Suggadelic

“It is important to have questionable friends you can trust unconditionally.”

2012-02-06T17:55:00.000-08:00

Downtown Owl by Chuck Klosterman

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

It's odd that I never read anything by Chuck Klosterman before this one. The man's humor, style, and personality always seemed right up my alley, but for whatever reason I never found the motivation to pick up his most celebrated works, like "Fargo Rock City," "Killing Yourself to Live," or "Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs," (even though I'm sure I will enjoy them all). "Downtown Owl" I picked up on a whim, and I devoured it in two days. It is amazingly well written, very stylish, and as desolate as it is hilarious. Klosterman did a fine job in balancing the whole existential Raymond Carver/Harry Crews-ish "small town with a deep soul"-subtlety versus the Michael Malone/Richard Russo "small town lamebrain, laugh out loud"-deal. I definitely spent more time laughing than contemplating the existence of these characters, (or at least I did up until the end). The ending of this story was a crazy bummer. Overall, thumbs up all around.

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I'm Always Touched by Your Magick, Dear

2012-02-06T16:06:00.000-08:00

A Dark Muse: A History of the Occult by Gary Valentine Lachman

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Good, but not great. I have an interest in the subject and Lachman is an excellent source for this sort of information, but with this book, and also in the case of another of his that I read before, called "Turn Off Your Mind: The Mystic Sixties and the Dark Side of the Age of Aquarius," I feel that he tends to get a little too heavy with his fact-spewing, almost to the point of sucking the joy out the overall reading experience. I also found myself getting bored with this book's format. It was nothing but a long chronological list of people, all of whom had varying degrees of historical facts to represent them, (and some of these facts, admittedly by Lachman, are not 100% confirmed). Still, regardless of my criticism, I did enjoy learning about many of the Enlightenment-era occultists whom I knew nothing about, (St. Germain and Emanuel Swedenborg in particular.) Also, I would be hard pressed in suggesting a different introductory book on Occultism, but if this one ends up being the go-to for beginners, then I would suggest that you skip the parts that make your eyes glaze and to meditate on the sections that excite you and challenge you. If that's the scenario you adhere to, then Lachman is indeed the man for you.

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"It seems to me that this world has a serious shortage of both logic and kindness."

2011-12-28T10:36:00.000-08:00

1Q84 by Haruki Murakami

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

My main man does it again. I don't think I was as awestruck by this one as when I first read The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle or Kafka on the Shore, but it remains an incredible literary feat, and I sincerely hope that Murakami reaps the rewards of this amazing effort, (i.e. GIVE THE MAN THE PULITZER!) 1Q84 is indeed another metaphysical mindbender of a story, probably his whackiest one yet. The Little People? So subtle, yet so creepy... But this story is not all surreal, mind-melting mystery. There's also plenty for the romantics to indulge in this book. The distance and anticipation between Aomame and Tengo is sure to pull at even the coldest of hearts. All of the other characters were equally fascinating, (the beautiful, but hollow, Fuka-Eri. The inscrutable, but pitiful, Ushikawa. The almost comical hitman duo, Buzzcut and Ponytail), etc. This is quite a lengthy tome and I'm not sure it would be the Murakami book I'd recommend to a new comer, but it is one that's worthy of anyone's attention, fan or not.

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“No such word as can't. No such word as babagoozle neither!”

2011-11-16T16:32:00.000-08:00

The Enemy by Charlie Higson

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I chose this book as the October selection for the teen book club I moderate in hopes of having it correspond with Halloween and all that fun seasonal stuff. It ended up being such a cool story in its own right, that it didn't need to be a special creepfest selection. Yes, it is about zombies and the aftermath of a zombie apocalypse, but it's also about children making very adult decisions, (because there are no more adults), and also about what it means to be human in a very inhuman world. The kids in this book are very powerful and realistic characters. They face incredible challenges, desperately struggling to hold on to their humanity and their compassion. The Enemy is a fun story that doesn't pull any punches, doesn't give you any gag-inducing teen drama, and certainly doesn't give you a Hollywood ending.

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Loner's don't need no Manifesto...

2011-09-25T19:45:00.000-07:00

Party of One: The Loners' Manifesto by Anneli Rufus

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

I just reread this after a four year stretch, simply because I feel like I'm more of a loner now than I was at the time when I read it before. Four years ago I loved this book. Right now, I think it's good, but far from amazing. Now that I'm less social of a person, (aka. more of a loner), I've been finding more faults with this writer and her overall message. I still enjoy what I liked about it before, like the overall justifications for living an antisocial lifestyle without being an antisocial personality, (antisocial in the medical/psychological sense). But for some reason, this time around, I can't help feeling like the writer is a bit of a hipster jackass trying a little too hard to a create an "Us vs. Them" scenario. Her snark and silly defensiveness tends to put me off. Still, I do think it's worthwhile read, (hence my revisiting the book). I particularly enjoy her historical examples of loners and loner lifestyles, but I could definitely do without the "manifesto" aspect of this book.

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"For life is the best thing we have in this existence."

2011-08-28T07:43:00.001-07:00

Just Kids by Patti Smith

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

It is difficult for me to think of an artist who illuminates pure positive affect in the way that Patti Smith does. For someone who always had a special place in his heart for Patti's "Horses" record, I can safely say there are moments where her music and her words have taken my mind and my heart to places I would have never imagined. For me, the record has a similar effect to Allen Ginsberg's, "Howl," and Walt Whitman's, "Song of Myself." The passion, the energy, the blood-racing anticipation between her vocal crescendos... It is absolutely on fire. However, I have found that "Horses" is a rather polarizing record. People who are into rock and roll either like it or hate it. I love it. My brain chemistry gets perfectly locked into Patti's grooves, and I'm happy to know that I can revisit this amazing album throughout my life anytime I feel the need.

When "Just Kids" came out, I realized that it had been quite some time since I had last thought of Patti Smith. My reading habits have changed a lot throughout the years, and I'm generally not a fan of biographies. However, I knew I would enjoy this one. I was simply waiting for the right time to read it. One of the many things that fascinates me about Patti Smith is that she was simply a naive and innocent child full of so much wonderful curiosity, a perpetual outsider who had no misgivings over the fact that life would be an uphill battle. Unlike many artists whose early lives were subject to torment and desperation, Patti came from a humble and loving home. Patti was not abused by her family, (she actually spoke very tenderly of her parents and siblings), nor did she express any excessive disdain towards those she encountered during her early struggles, (not even towards her factory coworkers who dehumanized her; thus providing the impetus for her song, "Piss Factory," nor the prying and judgmental eyes during her teenage pregnancy.) And even though she arrived in New York homeless and hungry and would generally fare no better until the latter end of the '70s, Patti's enthusiasm and diligence completely outshined her hardships.

Patti was in love with life. She was intoxicated with the freedom that came with being a young artist in a city of the world; finding inspiration and friendship during the unlikeliest moments, and holding onto these moments until they became the core of her being. One of the things I adore most about Patti Smith is her ability to live simultaneously inside her own head, completely losing herself within a sanctimonious inner world of books, dead poets, and philosophers, while also living very much in the moment. All of her encounters with '60s rockers like Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, and Grace Slick, along with her introductions to future celebrity artists, like Jim Carroll, Sam Shepard, and Tom Verlaine among many others, excited her, energized her, and gave her a great sense of fortune. She never took any of these encounters for granted and she continues to keep these people close to her heart to this day. Patti also never denied nor shied away from the influence of those who came before her, (particularly Jim Morrison and Arthur Rimbaud). I particularly enjoyed the passage in the book where she visited both of these young men's graves in Paris.

The only thing I haven't mentioned yet is Patti's friendship to Robert Mapplethorpe. What a sweet, sweet thing. Their bond was beyond friendship, beyond physical love. These two were soulmates in the classic sense. Robert and Patti completed one another, challenged one another, and guided one another throughout every course in their lives. Even her descriptions of their simplest outings and everyday musings came across as life-changing journeys. She pulls this off without being overly dramatic or grandiose because the love these two had for one another was complete, endless, and beautiful, and it was perfectly captured in this book.

I was a little surprised that Patti didn't delve more into the lives of her bandmates, her children, or her husband, the late, great Fred "Sonic" Smith. But then again, as she firmly stated, this was she and Robert's story, and she promised him that one day she would write it and share it with the world. That's precisely what she has done, and I'm very thankful for her doing so. This book was a glorious experience for me.

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"The only true currency in this bankrupt world is what you share with someone else when you're uncool."

2011-08-27T20:27:00.001-07:00

Let it Blurt: The Life and Times of Lester Bangs, America's Greatest Rock Critic by Jim Derogatis

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

I am not a fan of Jim Derogatis at all. He's that typical music writer that I despise, a sideline observer who prides himself on how harshly he can pan musicians whose talent and artistic integrity exists on a level that he will never achieve. Still, as much as I can't stand old Jim, I must give him credit for his well-written and well-researched book that takes you into the life of the greatest music writer of the twentieth century. Lester Bangs was the H.L. Mencken of rock and roll, a true believer in the power of music who wrote with the fury and passion of a warrior on a battlefield.

Lester pulled no punches and wasted no time on politeness or professional courtesy. If he offended you, that was your problem. His attitude could have made him easily dismissed, but Lester's passion and energy, not to mention his ability to write on par with Shakespeare if he found something he adored, (like Van Morrison's "Astral Weeks"), made it impossible to ignore him or to pigeon-hole him as a bitter, overtly opinionated music critic.

When you read Lester Bangs, you simply know that you are reading something pure, a true and meaningful glimpse into a great work of art, one that would go undiscovered and unheard had Lester not heard it and shared it. Many music writers have tried to emulate his style, focusing way too hard on the sass and the sarcasm, but strongly lacking the passion and the enlightenment that came as easy to Lester as taking a drink of water, (or in his case, cough syrup).

In the case of Jim Derogatis, I commend him for this biography. I wish I could say the same for his music criticism, but for me, he definitely falls into the aforementioned category of post-Lester music writers.

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"I knew every raindrop by its name."

2011-08-27T18:40:00.000-07:00

Jesus' Son: Stories by Denis Johnson

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Written during one of my favorite eras of literature. Too late to be considered beat, too early to be considered post modern, not literary enough to be considered modernist, and not the slightest bit concerned with how it fit in with the grand scheme of fiction during its time. Johnson chronicled the drug-addled drifter side of the '60s very well with these stories. Definitely some echoes of Bukowski and Carver, (comical like 'Buke, dismal like Ray), but he added his own stylistic touches as well. My favorite thing about this book, other than it's oddball humor, is the fact that you tend to find yourself remembering the final line to each vignette almost word for word. He mastered the art of ending a story by keeping it sparse and memorable, something that was lost in the flash-fiction craze that came 25 years later. Also, (I would be remiss for not pointing this out), the film version of this book rocks too!

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"A thing may happen and be a total lie; another thing may not happen and be truer than the truth."

2011-08-27T13:43:00.000-07:00

The Things They Carried by Tim O'Brien

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

It’s been referred to as one of the quintessential Vietnam reads. The author, Tim O’Brien is a veteran of the war, and his mind-bending take on his experiences with the men of Alpha Company along the Mekong Delta are heartbreaking, endearing, horrifying, and at times, indescribably uplifting.

The book’s title literally refers to the “things they carried”, meaning the personal items that each soldier held onto as reminders of their lives before the war. These “things” range from old love letters, bibles, packets of Kool Aid, condoms, even marijuana. One of the book’s strongest characters, a Native American named Kiowa, even carries his grandfather’s hatchet and his grandmother’s “distrust of the white man.” For each of these young men, the things they carry become the very lifelines to their existence, an emotional longing, a promise that there is something stronger and greater in their lives outside of the pain they are forced to endure in the jungles.

In one poignant scene, the company’s lieutenant, Jimmy Cross, (a carrier of his sweetheart’s love letters), admits to the others that his lady had in fact broken off their relationship before he came to the war. This sends the rest of the soldiers into a momentary state of frenzy, almost as if Jimmy’s false reliance on his love letters could conceivably affect their bond with one another and expose their collective weaknesses, not only to the enemy, but to each other. Jimmy simply responds, “It doesn’t matter. I still love her.” This immediately puts them all at ease. All any man needs is one sacred thing, one beautiful thing that is his and his only, and together they have something worth fighting for. For Jimmy, his sacred thing was his unrequited love.

Each chapter is its own vingnette, each of which hosts the same characters, but the stories change dramatically in terms of focus and dynamic. The story that struck me the most, and spooked me more than any horror movie, was The Sweetheart of the Song Tra Bong. Here a soldier in a demilitarized outpost “smuggles” his “honey,” (aka, his girlfriend, a 17-year old named Mary Anne), over from the U.S. via helicopter. The soldier thinks everything will be fine since he is away from combat, and that he has secured himself a true R&R retreat in the company of his lady. What he does not expect is the slow disintegration of her mind. Mary Anne changes drastically from the innocent all-American sweetheart into a stone silent, mad individual. She is taken under the wing of a regiment of eerily mysterious Green Berets, who force her to accompany them on night ambush missions. Mary Anne spends more and more time with the “greenies,” and eventually is caught partaking in horrifying jungle rituals with them, involving severed human limbs. Mary Anne says to the men who find her:

You hide in this little fortress, behind wire and sandbags, and you don’t know what it’s all about. Sometimes I want to eat this place. Vietnam. I want to swallow the whole country-the dirt, the death-I just want to eat it and have it there inside me.

Needless to say, Mary Anne’s decline gave this guy the creeps…

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"Every man is on earth to symbolize something he is ignorant of."

2011-08-27T13:36:00.001-07:00

Tijuana Straits: A Novel by Kem Nunn

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Kem Nunn is the progenitor of a unique style of fiction loosely referred to as “surf noir.” He hit the literary scene in the early ’80s with his first surf-stunner, Tapping the Source, which has become a beloved work of cult fiction regardless of its limited availability.

If you ask ANY surfer why he or she surfs, chances are they will all give you a similar answer; that there is a zen-like peace that comes from the intensity of surfing; the perfect union of body, mind, spirit, and nature. Nunn certainly captures this glory in his novels, but he doesn’t shy away from the occasional dark side of surf culture, particularly in his native Southern California and all of the misbegotten beach ghettos between San Diego and the Mexican border. This stretch of land may boast some of the best surf on the planet, but it is also home to vicious gang members, junkies, rapists, and down-and-out surf pros who have lost their way and succombed to lives of quiet, drug-addled desperation. This is the California of Nunn’s novels, and these are the characters that bring his powerful stories to life, reminding us that the grass is not always greener, and that even in one’s darkest hour, there is always a chance for redemption and peace.

Tijuana Straits gives us the split perspective of two protagonists. We have Sam (the Dove) Fahey, a meth-addicted, alcoholic worm farmer, (not to mention, former surf champion), who lives alone near the Cerro Colorado valley, (a wasteland among the smog of borderland-Mexico). His only neighbors are random packs of feral dogs. We also have Magdalena Rivera, a political activist from Mexico who has devoted her life to fighting environmental pollution in Mexican cities, and also to helping women in need, women who are victims of Tijuana’s ultra violence. The novel’s antagonist comes in the form of Armando Santoya, a drug-crazed madman hellbent on revenge against Magdalena, whose activism he blames for the loss of his wife and child. Armando’s obsession with killing her takes him across the border into California where, with the help of his hedonistic cronies, he commits many ghastly violent crimes, stopping at nothing on his hunt for Magdalena.

One morning during one of his routine drug runs, Fahey finds Magdalena on the American side of the border, badly beaten and near dead. Although he has become accustomed to having zero human contact, Fahey still feels the need to help Magdalena and nurse her back to health. Magdalena, in return, helps him come to grips with the man he used to be versus the man he has become. They must fight for their lives as Armando and his gang close in on them, but during their struggle, they open themselves to one another and to the seemingly unforgiving environment in which they live.

Every character in this wonderfully gritty novel is very organic, where even a monster like Armando is essentially a victim of a world gone awry. Kem Nunn possesses a rare talent in using society’s castaways as a means of gaining our sympathy, while also paving their paths for redemption. Also, you will REALLY want to hit some waves after reading one of this books.

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"At least you had that day."

2011-08-27T13:30:00.000-07:00

The Feast of Love by Charles Baxter

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Even when the staunchest romantics are told how a particular book contains the perfect ruminations on love, life, and happiness it can surely produce that groan-inducing, finger-down-the-throat heaving effect. Well, The Feast of Love is a book that is strongly based on these themes, but I assure you, it will not make you sick by any means. Here you will find a book that encompasses all the elements that delight the romantics, engage the literary readers, or captivate those who simply want a good read. Charles Baxter’s, The Feast of Love, is perhaps the essential choice for bridging the ever-widening gaps between genres. It is uniquely lyrical, tender and sweet without being saccharine, sad without being overtly depressing, and it perfectly captures all the complexities of love and relationships in a way that’s relatable for all.

The story takes place in Ann Arbor, Michigan. Charles Baxter, in a bold move that seldom works in fiction, injects himself into the novel’s opening passage. He wakes in the middle of the night and decides that a late night stroll would be the best thing for his insomnia. He comes across his neighbor Bradley, who is out walking his dog, (the dog, though a minor presence in the story, serves as a humorous foil for Bradley, even sharing his name). Charles tells his neighbor that he is attempting to write a new novel, but is not having much luck. Bradley suggests that Charles call his novel, The Feast of Love. He then proposes that Charles meet several people so he can learn from their stories and use them for his book. These people become the living embodiment of The Feast of Love, all of them coming from drastically different walks of life with their own chapters devoted to their unique experiences.

Each character shares their confusion, pain, and wisdom. We meet Bradley’s former wives and learn of their new found loves. We are introduced to Oscar and Chloe, a young couple whose wild, and occasionally reckless, passion for one another is limitless and free. We also meet a retired professor, Harry Ginsberg, who is reeling from the sadness of not knowing the whereabouts of his clinically insane son. Everyone’s story contains equal parts sorrow and enchantment, leaving us with a sense of delight, dismay, and inevitable growth. As Bradley says, “Every relationship has at least one really good day. What I mean is, no matter how sour things go, there’s always that day. That day is always in your possession. That’s the day you remember. You get old and you think: well, at least I had that day.”

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Out of Space – Out of Time

2011-08-27T13:19:00.000-07:00

The Ice Museum: In Search of the Lost Land of Thule by Joanna Kavenna

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I have always been a dreamer. I have always been that guy, the guy who you would always catch staring off into space, dreaming of what it would be like be somewhere else, to be in a place completely foreign and new with endless discoveries and landscapes straight out of a fantasy. In my early to mid twenties, whenever I’d envision the perfect getaway, I always imagined a place cultured and refined, a place filled with interesting history far away from all those fangled beaches where tourists guzzle frilly umbrella drinks, children run amuck, and some irritating tour guide is always dictating your schedule for you… (However, now at 35, I wholeheartedly retract that statement after experiencing the tropical awesomeness of Mexico during my honeymoon).

Still, many travelers stick to their guns when they decide their destinations. For many, the ideal vacation is a solo-sojourn to a remote part of the globe, (and I do mean remote). Joanna Kavenna is such a traveler. Her nonfiction debut, The Ice Museum: In Search of the Lost Land of Thule, is a mythology-infused travelogue that extends to the farthest reaches of the known, and unknown, areas of the northern hemisphere, (Iceland, Greenland, Norway, Estonia, and the Shetland Islands). It may not be a stretch to proclaim that no writer has ever chronicled the otherworldly beauty and sheer isolation of the icy north has well as Kavenna. Her poetic passages leave you longing for her next destination, her next discovery, hoping that she will never stop searching for Thule, because with every crystal-blue fjord and every gleaming glade that Kavenna describes, you will want to be right there with her. I almost wanted to plan a trip to the Norwegian fjords immediately after reading.

Thule is a place of a legend, a sort of Atlantis of the north. The first accounts of its existence come from the Greek explorer, Pytheas, who claimed to have discovered it during the 4th century. Pytheas described Thule as a place of endless splendor beyond the borders of the known world, a place shrouded with, “mist, sea and land, a frozen ocean, a midnight sun in the summer, a twilight sky throughout the winter.” Since its alleged discovery, Thule has been referenced and romanticized in literature by writers as diverse as Virgil, Shelly, Poe, and even Charlotte Bronte. Whispers of a “superior” race existing in this beautiful land later led the Nazis to claim that Thule was the ancient origin of the Aryan race. During the early years of the Third Reich, a “Thule Society” was even created as a means of culminating Aryan propaganda. Kavenna doesn’t shy away from this darkened history to the subject, and even makes some detours in Berlin to investigate the Nazi affiliation with Thule. Her spirited curiosity leads her to many people with vastly different lifestyles: Viking warrior descendents, seal-skinning Enuits, Shetland Island pub-goers, Norwegian women forced into exile due to their Nazi blood ties, drunken Russian coal miners, and even the President of Estonia, (who firmly believes his country to be the one and only Thule). All of Kavenna’s encounters with these people are fascinating, but what will ultimately captivate you are the passages devoted to the landscapes themselves. You will feel like you have found the world’s most best kept secrets. The translucent fields of ice and the deep blue fjords of the distant north offer a sublime beauty far away from the things of man. By the time I got to the end of the book, I couldn’t have cared less whether Thule existed or not because I felt I had already experienced everything that all of the poets and writers have ever said about it.

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"Dismantling the architecture of my discontent"

2011-08-24T04:58:00.000-07:00

Invisible by Paul Auster

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

The saddest Auster book I've read to date. My heart really went out to the damaged characters in this book, particularly Adam. You just wanted to hug this poor kid and do your best to convince him that he and the misfortune that follows him throughout his life are not one and the same. Auster, naturally, communicates Adam's plight poetically and free of overwrought sentimentality. And only Paul Auster could bring an incestuous relationship to light and somehow make it not disgusting.

Rudolf Born is unlike any other character I've encountered in Auster's stories. He is wretched and self-serving, and I'm not yet convinced that he received his due justice for his actions throughout the story. Still, he was a great foil for the innocent and naive Adam, and I found his later development with the other characters interesting and believable. All in all, another surefire win from one of my favorite writers.

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The divine view and the things that really matter far below it.

2011-08-17T12:02:00.000-07:00

Peak by Roland Smith

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

The best young adult book I've read to date. Fun, honest, and adventurous with a likable protagonist, and a great way for young readers to learn about trust, sacrifice, and the importance of being true to yourself. It also emphasizes cultural relativism, (almost to the point of making you want to hop on the next flight to Nepal). "Peak" is not just for young adults though. Any reader would get something out of this story.

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All My Friends Have Come and Gone

2011-08-02T20:12:00.000-07:00

This is hands down THE best rock and roll song that has been written in the past 20 or 30 years. I haven't heard a single thing that touches this.

Pass the soma, please.

2011-07-31T09:53:00.001-07:00

Brave New World by Aldous Huxley

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Can't believe I waited this long to read this book. I loved how it was such an elaborate view on such a simple question; "What will it take to make humans satisfied? What do you want?" It is amazing that this book was written during the 1930s. Definitely a '60s forecaster!

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Another Day in Purgatory

2011-07-29T21:34:00.001-07:00

Travels in the Scriptorium by Paul Auster

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Not the usual fare for Auster, but it remained an intriguing page-turner for me. This one read more like a Murakami novel. I was completely locked into the suspense surrounding the protagonist's imprisonment/retirement/purgatory. Even though the writer purposefully left out many vital details, I still felt that he gave just enough to get the imagination rolling. It seems that a lot of Auster's fans find this book to be their least favorite, which I can understand, but I would recommend it to anyone who's a fan of metaphysical fiction and likes to occasionally veer from the standard novel format.

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"One should never underestimate the power of books."

2011-07-01T13:10:00.000-07:00

The Brooklyn Follies by Paul Auster

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Such a beautiful book. This was my fourth Auster read, the others being "Oracle Night," "Timbuktu," and "Sunset Park." I'm beginning to think he's the most talented contemporary fiction writer on the planet, (arguably against Haruki Murakami). Auster possesses the amazing ability to wax poetic while blending the right amounts of humor, sarcasm, and tragedy. He challenges his readers without throwing them any "English professor" curveballs. His characters are simple but deep, generally broken and spiritually bankrupt during the onsets of the stories, but they grow through their pain and loss, often finding happiness and peace in the unlikeliest of places. Chance meetings, fate, destiny, and unlearning all that has been learned. These are all very powerful Auster tropes. In all four books that I've read, there have been passages that will remain with me forever.

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50,000 Happy Birthdays

2011-06-27T19:14:00.000-07:00

"We're Still Young."

2011-06-05T18:17:00.001-07:00

Your Library, Your Voice...

2011-04-23T21:38:00.000-07:00

I love my library, and thankfully so do my patrons!

A Man ain't Nothing but a Man

2011-04-16T07:23:00.000-07:00

The Nine Pound Hammer by John Claude Bemis

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

A fun, nicely written book with a Carnivàle flair and lots of hoodoo and creepy southern folklore. Regardless of some occasional groan-worthy dialogue and dislikeable characters, this was a captivating action-driven story with a great sense of time and place. The underlying themes of industrialization, dehumanization, and individuality are cleverly injected, not overblown, and are sure to reach the intended age group. I recently moderated this book with a teen book at my library, and everyone seemed to have fun with it.

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A Life Sentence for me? Reading more Laura Lippman books.

2011-04-16T07:20:00.000-07:00

Life Sentences by Laura Lippman

My rating: 2 of 5 stars

Bah... Another Lippman book that started strong, got watered down, and ended on a "You gotta be kidding me"-note.

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"There are things that have to be forgotten if you want to go on living."

2011-02-24T07:32:00.000-08:00

The Grifters by Jim Thompson

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

More charming, conniving characters. More dangerous dames. More bestial bad guys. Plain and simply, more killer Thompson... Jim Thompson is a writer with fan boys in waiting. The people who enjoy his books love every one of his tropes and wouldn't see them changed for the world. Every fringe-dwelling, nihilistic protagonist manages to get himself into the same sort of mess. With the Grifters, there are some even creepier undertones, (sexual attractions between mother and son, and a pretty brutal torture scene between said mother and her bad guy boss). This was another fun, blazing read for me, and I look forward to seeing the film, (which stars John Cusak and Angela Huston).

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Fly On, Little Wing

2011-02-12T13:44:00.001-08:00

Jimi: Sounds Like a Rainbow: a Story of the Young Jimi Hendrix by Gary Golio

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

A great book for kids who love music and who are looking to get hip to Jimi. Beautiful artwork, a plainly spoken story, and lots of fun facts about Jimi's childhood that you probably wouldn't normally hear, (his two best friends were named Terry and Potato Chip!) The artwork definitely takes the cake though. The author places a strong emphasis on how Jimi "heard" colors and "saw" sounds, and each page is a beautiful kaleidoscopic wash of colors with images of young Jimi faded beneath.

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Do What Thou Wilt

2011-02-10T18:30:00.001-08:00

Satan Wants Me by Robert Irwin

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

It's London, 1967. Peter is a hip, young sociology major into music, drugs, and wild reckless sex with his girlfriend, Sally. He also develops a taste for the esoteric, namely a local occult group called The Black Book Lodge, a secret Thelemic organization with ties to Aleister Crowley himself. Peter and Sally, along with their drug-gobbling, pseudo intellectual mate, "Mr. Cosmic," all become adepts for the lodge. Whenever the three of them are not scoring drugs, dancing all night at the psych clubs like The Middle Earth, or looking for celebrity sightings, (like Brian Jones and Syd Barrett), they are submitting themselves to the priests and priestesses of the lodge, learning how to perform black masses, and keep diaries of their forays into the dark arts. The entire story is told through Peter's diary. There is plenty of British humor, particularly in the guise of Peter's sarcastic, slightly arrogant demeanor, but it is also Peter who ultimately creeps you out. The writer does a fine job of blending humor and sarcasm in with the characters' subtle descents into madness. There are also some clever twists towards the latter end of the story. This book may not be everyone's bag, but I loved it. The Swinging London backdrop, the consistent music references, and the factual references to occult figures and occult history had me from the moment I started.

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The Rocker/Librarian recognized for BOTH aspects of his life...

2011-01-30T09:27:00.000-08:00

This month I was honored to be featured in two different articles for my rock and roll music and my library work!

Magnet Magazine article on The Static Minds!

News and Observer article for Homeschooler Storytimes at my library!

From the Land of Ice and Snow

2011-01-04T06:18:00.000-08:00

Last Rituals by Yrsa Sigurðardóttir

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

It's official. The Scandinavians are ruling the mystery-writing world right now. This was yet another greatly layered crime story, every bit on par with Menkell, Larrson, Indridason, and all of the others. Yrsa Sigurdardottir's strong female protagonist, Thora Gudmundsdóttir, shines through all of her dismal Icelandic surroundings. She's cool, funny, tough, and tender without displaying too many stereotypical leading lady archetypes. This book's got lots of fun and creepy witchcraft, and lots of clever twists and turns. Check it out, particularly if you enjoy the dark mysteries of the icy north.

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And So Time Passes...

2010-12-23T10:01:00.001-08:00

A Wild Sheep Chase by Haruki Murakami

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Another stellar Murakami story. As far as his surreal "out there" reads go, I didn't find this one as effective as "Hard Boiled Wonderland at the End of the World," but I still enjoyed all of the strange characters and the even weirder mysteries that surrounded them. Only Murakami could give something as seemingly simple as a sheep such an ominous, spiritual presence, (I must admit I laughed while writing that sentence). The fringe characters like The Rat, The Boss, and The Sheep Man were the perfect weirdo foils for the nameless protagonist and his pseudo soul-searching journey. The narrator has dealt with a lot of genuine loss and has no desire to hold on to the fragmented pieces of his life. His "devil may care"-attitude lent itself nicely to this puzzling story. Not the Murakami book I'd recommend for beginners, but for all of his fans I would definitely suggest it. Try to read it back to back with "Dance, Dance, Dance" if you can. I wish I had done that.

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"Stupidity is a talent for misconception."

2010-12-22T12:31:00.001-08:00

In a Strange City by Laura Lippman

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

This is the only Laura Lippman book I've read to date. Basically, I feel like I'm off to a good start, but I remain a little hesitant to check out any of her other works. I just get a strange feeling that she's a one-trick pony. Regardless, she's definitely a talented writer who knows to add all of the right pop culture references in order to make her characters organic. In fact, what I liked most about this story were the youthful characters, one in particular; a beer-swilling, pizza-scarfing librarian (!) I also feel it was very tasteful to have a story centered around Edgar Allan Poe and the annual Poe "toaster." The writer obviously places a lot of emphasis and pride on her city/muse (Baltimore), so why not create a good murder mystery centered around one the Baltimore's most eccentric and beloved inhabitants? If anyone else can suggest a good Lippman story as a follow-up, I'm all ears.

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Gonna swim across the Atlantic 'cause that's the only place I can go!

2010-12-22T12:26:00.000-08:00

Hell to Pay by George P. Pelecanos

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Another Pelecanos story with plenty of gritty street crimes and the flawed but righteous individuals who stand against them. Derek Strange is certainly the latter; an opportunistic private investigator with a healthy appetite for anonymous sex, regardless of his righteous indignation for the daily injustices he witnesses on a regular basis. As is Pelecanos's talent, this story is cleverly layered between Strange's latest case, which submerges him into the D.C. drug underworld, and Terry Quinn, an ex-cop who is trying to locate young girls who have disappeared into teenage prostitution rings. Lots of scary thugs, damaged innocents, and wreckless but well-meaning good guys. Call it urban noir, street fiction, or whatever you like. I just call it good writing.

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"It's like Tolstoy said. Happiness is an allegory, unhappiness a story."

2010-12-17T13:40:00.001-08:00

Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

This was the first Murakami book I tackled. The results? Instantaneous fandom... A bewitching story about a teenage runaway named Kafka Tumura, and his alter ego, "The Boy named Crow." Kafka seeks a life of solitude faraway from the reaches of everything he has ever known, (particularly his father). Everything the boy stumbles upon reaches out to me: The comfort and peace of a small town library, the friendship of Oshima, (a transexual, fast-driving, classical music freak), sexy encounters with an older woman, Miss Saeki, whose own life is shrouded in mystery, to strange pop culture characters like Johnny Walker and Colonel Sanders, both of whom come to life and serve as mediums of a sort. Kafka finds himself taking a surreal journey through the realms of the metaphysical, one that borders on an existentialist void where the lines between good and evil, and dreams and reality, are significantly blurred. I found the novel's other protagonist, Nakata, an old simpleton who can communicate with cats and ease people of their spiritual suffering, equally intriguing. "Kafka on the Shore" is probably the most challenging Murakami offering I have read to date. I wouldn't say this is the ideal Murakami book to start with, but it is definitely a selection that all of his fans should not miss.

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Oṃ maṇipadme hūṃ.

2010-12-17T10:52:00.001-08:00

Sitting: A Guide to Buddhist Meditation by Diana St. Ruth

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

There are many books out there for people who are curious about meditation and don't know exactly where to start. This was the one that did it for me. It is straight forward, no-nonsense writing where every apprehension you may have felt towards meditating is addressed and is easy to follow; everything from how to sit, how to breathe, and how and when to employ meditation as a regular part of your life. I can highly suggest this book for anyone who would like to explore this subject, but feels overwhelmed with all of the possibilities. This book simplifies the mystery surrounding meditation, and even more importantly, places it easily within in your reach.

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Only the dead stay 17 forever.

2010-12-16T23:57:00.001-08:00

Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Stunningly beautiful. This is a book that I continue to recommend to my library patrons on a daily basis. Even though the underlying themes to this elegiac story deal with some seemingly usual suspects, (love, death, grieving, and perseverance), I still find that it crosses genres and is widely loved by many different readers. It's definitely Murakami's least "surreal," but that's what it makes it shine. His regular mind-bending trickery is not necessary here at all. It's a powerful enough story in its own right.

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Turn the radio on

2010-12-16T12:08:00.001-08:00

Dance, Dance, Dance by Haruki Murakami

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Classic Murakami with lots of genre-blending mystery and intrigue. This one didn't stick with me in that epic way that many of his other novels have, but there wasn't bad thing about this story at all. I particularly enjoyed the dynamic between the narrator and his old school chum. Whereas the protagonist is a quiet and reserved fellow, his actor pal is an extravagant, loud-mouthed ladies man. This a very similar formula to the two guys in Norwegian Wood. I like how it allows you to explore the thoughts and pondering of a silent observer; a very cool way to see the murder mystery unfold.

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Don't worry, baby. It's only murder.

2010-12-11T10:53:00.001-08:00

The Nothing Man by Jim Thompson

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Classic nihilistic Thompson. Clinton Brown is work-a-holic, alcoholic, sociopathic wiseass, void of all emotion, and capable of fooling all of his small-town, lame brained coworkers into doing just about anything he wants. He drinks whiskey around the clock, uses his good looks to manipulate women, yet has no problem in resorting to extreme acts of violence when he feels that his cherished loneliness is in danger. When Clinton gets personally involved in the death of his former wife, a mystery unravels as to whether or not he is guilty of a booze-fueled murder, or if he is a victim of an intense set up. Overall, a classic, boozy, hard boiled crime story...

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More loveable screw-ups

2010-12-09T11:27:00.001-08:00

Nobody Move by Denis Johnson

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Johnson has been lending us his tenaciously dark-humored fiction since the early ‘70s,(you may be familiar with his short story collection,Jesus’ Son, which was later made into a film). His latest darkly-comic, noir-ish crime romp features many of his trademark characters, (drunks, gambling addicts, debt-collecting thugs, and sexy and infectiously dangerous women). The novel begins with Jimmy Luntz, a down-and-out gambler, ferociously fretting his meeting with a thug named Gambol, who is out collecting on behalf of an underworld gangster simply known as “Juarez.” Luntz decides the best way to avoid his impending knee-breaking is to shoot Gambol in the leg and steal his carand his wallet, (whatever works, right?) Jimmy Luntz further complicates things for himself by hooking up with an alcoholic temptress who has masterminded a multimilliondollar blackmail scheme against her former husband and a federal prosecutor. The two then flee from the hot pursuit of Juarez and Gambol, (that latter of who is depicted hilariously as a result of his wounded leg). This leads them to a crash-course finale in destruction, betrayal, and brutality,with an added dose of black humor. Johnson’s penchant for society’s fringe dwellers is always prevalent, as is his ability to win our sympathies for these losers while also cracking us up.

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No margaritas on the beach here.

2010-12-06T07:23:00.001-08:00

Mexico City Noir by Paco Ignacio Taibo II

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

If the purpose of this book is to introduce the reader to new authors and to allow them to explore a place for which they may not be familiar, then yes. Mexico City Noir was a successful book. I loved experiencing the danger and mad beauty of Mexico City through the eyes of the city's resident writers, and I look forward to checking out more of their individual works, (particularly Paco Ignacio Taibo II, a Mexican-raised Spaniard). However, as was my complaint for the other Akashic Noir books I've read, some of the stories seemed rather rushed, disjointed, and ultimately left me feeling like I wasn't really getting a whole lot out of them. That said, it is really difficult to write a thrilling crime saga within a five or ten page limit, so it's kind of up to the reader to take what they can with such a limited offering. I would definitely suggest this book to anyone who likes gritty and violent noirish stories, but just keep in mind that it's more of a visual experience rather than a heady, visceral one.

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This moment, this passing moment, the now that is here and then not here.

2010-12-02T18:00:00.000-08:00

Sunset Park by Paul Auster

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I loved everything about it. Sunset Park is the fourth Auster book I've devoured this year. I can safely say that I find him to be one of the best fiction writers around today. The writing in Sunset Park is sweet, sublime, and very poetic, yet all of the literary devices are woven together in such a subtle manner that you are hardly aware of any overt transitions between the characters and their interwoven stories. I think my favorite thing about Auster's writing, within this book in particular, is his ability to leave you guessing the fates of each character, but just when you're at your utmost level of apprehension, wondering how each individual story will unfold, Auster will throw in a quick future-tense passage that explains the outcome almost like an irrelevant side comment. This effect really got me into the "flow" of the story.

Just about every character in this book broke my heart in some kind of way. There are a lot of broken pieces in all of their lives. Miles is a sure-shot protagonist. He's a silent soul searcher who's experienced a lot of spiritual pain, some of which is self-inflicted, but still you can't help pulling for Miles. He's humble, simple, and shows a lot of heart. His love for Pilar and his estrangement from his family were powerful elements that really hit home with me.

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Crossing posting my band life into my bookworm life.

2010-11-08T08:08:00.000-08:00

Well, at least it took place in Scotland.

2010-11-08T07:46:00.001-08:00

Pig Island by Mo Hayder

My rating: 2 of 5 stars

Perhaps I set my expectations a little too high for this one, because I was pretty let down with it. I was looking for a good seasonal read, particularly one with creepy occult overtones, but this story just didn't do it for me. After traveling to Scotland as a young man and loving it, I've often enjoyed movies and books with a Scottish backdrop, but for this one it didn't help very much. The characters were one dimensional and incredibly dislikable. The plot, though off to a seemingly strong start, ended up cheesy and laughable. Also, the creepy fun factor I was hoping for just wasn't there, (an overweight, evangelical minister living in the rough may scare some, but for me it was just plain silly). About 50 pages in, I was saying to myself, "A tail for god's sake?!!" Still, I finished the whole thing, which is saying something. Regardless of all my meager complaints, I did feel compelled enough to read the book in its entirety. It's kind of like when you discover a television series that bores you, makes you moan, and keeps you griping, yet you still watch every episode scene-per-scene. That's the very experience I had with this book. For that reason, I'll more than likely give Mo Hayder another shot, but I got to say that I'm off to a pretty lousy start with her after trudging through Pig Island.

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B-b-b-b-b-loody Fantastic!

2010-10-07T08:02:00.001-07:00

Black Swan Green by David Mitchell

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

At first I thought it was a stretch to consider this book the English "Catcher in the Rye," but after finishing it, I don't feel that's an overstatement at all. There were so many beautiful and painful things about the dynamics of childhood and adolescence. It was downright hilarious at times too. After recently reading Mitchell's debut, "Ghostwritten," I've got to say that a book like this was far from what I was expecting. During the first 50 pages I kept waiting for something metaphysical to occur. Not necessary. This book was so uniquely well-written, funny, and tender without throwing in any groan-inducing cliches, that I could recommend it to just about anyone, regardless of their usual choice reads.

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Watch what you say around your dog. They're on to you.

2010-09-15T07:55:00.000-07:00

Timbuktu by Paul Auster

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

A book about a mentally ill vagabond with a heart of gold and his life-long canine companion who pledges undying loyalty and understands English between humans? Yes, yes, yes... My kinda book! Would definitely recommend, even if you aren't one of those wacky dog people like me. It helps that the dog on the cover looks just like my little Maybelline, (aka, Maeby).

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Long Way Up Again

2010-08-13T02:30:00.000-07:00

Nick Hornby has received no shortage of attention from all of us here in Book-a-Day blog-land. Two of his books have already been featured as staff picks in the past year; Juliet Naked and High Fidelity. I’m sure most fans would agree that both of these novels provide those classic Hornby trademarks that keep us all coming back for more. Both stories are humor-laden tales of sorrow and loneliness where each of the music obsessed protagonists is looking for redemption in the form of love. Well, Long Way Down takes a slightly different approach. All of the dark humor is still there, but this time there is a slightly stronger emphasis on the “dark.”

It’s the witching hour on New Year’s Eve at the tip top of the Topper’s House in London. Four individuals, all of whom come from completely different walks of life, inadvertently join together. Each of them plans on ending their miserable lives in solitude at the stroke of midnight by jumping from the building. It’s at this very moment where Nick works his magic. He immediately introduces us to an unforgettable cast of characters, loosely referred to as the "Topper's House Four."

Martin is a middle aged television personality who has lost his career and his family due to a very indecent and very public affair with an under aged girl. Maureen is a quiet and submissive church-going woman whose entire life revolves around caring for her extremely disabled son. Jess is a high-energy, foul-mouthed 18 yr. old with endless contempt for her family and her ex-boyfriend. J.J. completes the group. He’s a young American rocker turned pizza man whose “on the verge of making it”-band, Big Yellow, comes crashing down in flames. J.J.'s reeling is sent even farther over the fact that his girlfriend has left him for his best friend and former band mate. As a musician myself, (also a former pizza man), I especially identified with the passion and the loss that J.J. felt for his band…

We had something that one else ever had. Maybe people used to have it before my time—the Stones, the Clash, the Who. But no one I’ve ever seen had it. When Big Yellow played live, it was like some kind of Pentecostal service; instead of applause and whistles and hoots, there’d be tears and teeth-grinding and speaking in tongues. We saved souls… Those shows were my reason for living, and I now know that this is not a figure of speech.

These four misfits, who ordinarily would never have so much as batted an eye towards one another, now form a sort of comical lifeline with each other. At the mercy of the British tabloids, the Topper’s House Four are trudged through a media frenzy of opportunistic half-truths, (and blatant lies), and then ultimately come to help one another mend the broken pieces in their lives. Long Way Down may not be chockfull of the bad relationship humor of Hornby’s other novels, but his prevalent themes on the strength of the human spirit shines through like a diamond in the darkness. I found this book uniquely, and nontraditionally, uplifting.

Not a Beach Read...

2010-07-16T10:07:00.001-07:00

The Woman in the Dunes by Kōbō Abe

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

This was one of those books that I couldn't way to be over, but I still didn't want to give up on it. It's about a loner who travels to small seaside village, then gets talked into lodging for the evening with a young woman who lives in a decrepit house down in a hole beneath the large coastal sand dunes. To his horror, the man realizes he is meant to stay down in the hole for the rest of his life with this woman, helping her shovel mounds of sand from the side of the dunes to keep the sand from overtaking the village. The book was written in 1964, which sort of places it in that post-Camus time frame of existentialist literature, but I think I would have enjoyed it much more if it remained a straight-up mystery rather than a heady, Sisyphus, "What is the true meaning of existence?"-type scenario. Not a bad book by any means, but not one I could easily recommend.

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Ipod Mix for a Hike @ Seaforth Park

2010-06-25T10:40:00.000-07:00

1. Look at the View - The Action
2. Walking in Heaven's Foothills - Adam Franklin
3. The Walking Song - The Turtles
4. Caught in a Dream - Alice Cooper
5. Mississippi Delta - Bobbie Gentry
6. Down by the Seaside - Led Zeppelin
7. Bummer in the Summer - Love
8. Walk on the Water - Creedence Clearwater Revival
9. Elk River - Six Organs of Admittance
10. Waterworld - The Makes Nice
11. Sitting on the Dock of the Bay - Mongo Santamaria
12. Drown Yourself in the River - Gun
13. Sand - Lee Hazlewood
14. Ha Ha - The Rationals
15. Sitting on a Rainbow - Mountain
16. Point Me at the Sky - Pink Floyd
17. Following the River - The Rolling Stones
18. Dream within a Dream - Spirit
19. Lost on the River - Hank Williams
20. Green Circles - The Small Faces
21. Summer Days - Phoenix
22. Life's a Gas - T.Rex
23. O'er the Waves - Willie Nelson
24. Pictures (Leave Your Body Behind) - The 13th Floor Elevators

Highly suggested ;)

Class, turn to page... Bah, nevermind.

2010-06-15T17:26:00.001-07:00

Everything Ravaged, Everything Burned by Wells Tower

My rating: 2 of 5 stars
I was expecting to love this, but overall I thought it was just okay. It's one of those classic English class-type books; a collection of short stories where nothing really happens, yet all of the damaged characters are placed into situations that are supposed to be allegories for all the broken pieces in their lives. I used to eat up books like this. These days, not so much. I mean no insult to the writer at all, as it was very beautifully and stylishly written, but I'm just not into this sort of thing anymore. I would recommend this book for anyone who loves Raymond Carver and the fifty million writers who rip him off.

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Blood Red Sun

2010-06-11T13:47:00.000-07:00

All the Pretty Horses by Cormac McCarthy

My rating: 4 of 5 stars
Definitely my kind of book. Literary and sparse, but not overblown and pretentious. It also offers just the right amount of romance and tragedy. In recent years I've discovered that I have a profound love for the solitude and vastness of the deserts in the west. McCarthy's west definitely is its own entity. A place that offers freedom and escape, but can also be treacherous and horrifying. Apparently there's a movie based on the book, directed by Billy Bob Thornton, where Matt Damon plays John Grady and Penelope Cruz plays Alejandra. Haven't seen it. Should I?

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Mingo, quit eating your feet.

2010-06-11T13:44:00.000-07:00

Handling Sin by Michael Malone

My rating: 5 of 5 stars
Hilariousness upon hilarity, an epic "Confederacy of Dunces"-style road story with some of the goofiest characters I've ever encountered. Mingo Sheffield? I was cracking up within the first few pages and simply did not stop. I recently read this for the book club that I moderate, and I could not have been happier with it. The story, the humor, the flow, the jabs taken towards Southern culture and blind faith Christianity, etc... I was blown away. There is no need whatsoever to view this book as a history lesson or as a societal breakdown of the south. All you need to do is kick back and enjoy its classic "comedy of errors"-formula. Highly recommended, whether you dig literary reads or not, (and it is plenty literary for the high brown readers).

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Sad to see you go...

2010-06-05T20:18:00.000-07:00

The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest by Stieg Larsson

My rating: 5 of 5 stars
Yes, yes, and yes... An amazingly justifiable end to one of the most unique and captivating crime trilogies of all time. I don't want to throw any spoilers out there for my friends who are still reading it, but just know that you will not be disappointed. The general complaint with the first book is the lull in the passages that explain the Swedish financial system, (although most readers I know got over that and ended up loving the story). The second book seems to be everyone's favorite, due to the fact that it explains Lisabeth's past and gives you nonstop action. This third book has a similar lull to the first in the series, (except it's dedicated to the Swedish secret police rather than the financial system.) DO NOT LET IT DETER YOU. The story starts rockin' almost immediately after that history lesson. The last 100 pages had my heart pounding like a train and jumping out of my seat, (literally). I am very sad the trilogy is now over for me. Thank you, Stieg, for the best back-to-back series I've read in a long, long time...

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Whiskey, Insanity, & Kidnapping...

2010-05-17T04:21:00.000-07:00

After Dark, My Sweet by Jim Thompson

My rating: 4 of 5 stars
A Facebook friend was recently talking about Jim Thompson, which reminded me that I always meant to read more of his stories. "After Dark, My Sweet" is a great crime story on the pulp/noir side of things that you could probably knock out in just one day. All of the classic pulp trademarks are there, (drifters, dangerous girls, manipulative schemers, etc.) Thompson definitely has a sort of naturalist take on his characters; meaning they are just things, nothing more than simple creatures subject to the environments they inhabit. It's classic cult fiction. Straight up, existentialist grit. I dig it...

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Commiting a Capital Crime

2010-04-23T12:55:00.001-07:00

D.C. Noir by George P. Pelecanos

My rating: 2 of 5 stars
This was kind of a letdown. I've read books by both Pelecanos and Lippman that I've really enjoyed, but their pieces in this collection were rather sub-par compared to their excellent full-length novels. The same goes for the other writers as well. Although I enjoyed the DC backdrop in all of the stories, (as would anyone who has ever spent time in DC), I must say that all of the geographic familiarity in the world can't make up for amateurish writing. There were a lot of O. Henry-type endings as well, something I could never get into. Overall, the book wasn't a total loss, but definitely not what I was hoping for.

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Bleedin' Seabird Flavor!

2010-04-23T12:54:00.001-07:00

Sea Monsters: Prehistoric Creatures of the Deep by Michael Everhart

My rating: 4 of 5 stars
A fun, well written National Geographic publication with lots of realistically horrifying artwork sure to make you never step foot in the ocean ever again. Definitely brings out your inner 10 year old.

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Tentacles and Darkness

2010-04-23T12:45:00.000-07:00

The Arrival by Shaun Tan

My rating: 5 of 5 stars
I like graphic novels, but don't read them very often. However, I am very happy this one was introduced to me. If I recall, there is no text, only some incredible artwork that tells the story in a perfect, even flow. This is an excellent book. It's hard to imagine anyone disliking it.

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If You're Going to San Lorenzo...

2010-04-23T12:44:00.001-07:00

Cat's Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut

My rating: 5 of 5 stars
Whenever someone asks me to describe Kurt Vonnegut to them, I generally say something like, “He takes apocalyptic scenarios and manages to make them hilarious.” Perhaps no novel of his matches this description more than 1963’s Cat’s Cradle, a sickeningly sardonic satire on the nuclear arms race and American imperialism. Within this light-hearted take on an extremely heavy subject, a young protagonist attempts to piece together a bit of history behind the creation of the atomic bomb by interviewing the children of Dr. Felix Hoenikker, the fictional “Father of the A-Bomb.” In doing so, he discovers that Hoenikker’s offspring live on the Caribbean island of San Lorenzo—(not a real place)—under the communist-hating “dictatorship” of President “Papa” Monzano—(not a real person). They practice an outlawed tribal religion based on living in accordance to the happiness of untruths—(not an actual faith), and what’s more is that the older of the Hoenikker children holds the key to his father’s latter-day weapon of mass destruction, a devestative freezing agent capable of freezing an entire ocean called “Ice Nine,”(— DEFINITELY not a real weapon). Our fearless young narrator finds himself trapped between the silly vanity of San Lorenzo’s political and religious leaders, as well as the conflict between the Hoenikker’s whacky kids and their grasp on one of the most devastatingly dangerous, “Ice Nine.” It’s pure socio-political sci-fi gone awry…

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The Devil Made Me Do It

2010-03-20T16:51:00.000-07:00

Horns by Joe Hill

My rating: 4 of 5 stars
A really cool idea for a story. The town wretch, a young guy named Ignatius, (aka. "Ig,") lives a blacklisted life, having been wrongfully accused of violently murdering his girlfriend and escaping justice due to his wealthy father's connections. Ig awakes one morning from a devastating hangover and discovers that he has horns growing from his head. No one seems to notice the horns when they look at him, but everyone that Ig encounters feels the need to confess every horrible thought they've ever had, and every horrible thing they've ever done. The book begins with some very comical moments, (receptionists who say they want to kill screaming children in their waiting room, cops who confess their homosexuality, priests who confess their lustful affairs, etc.), but the story evolves significantly past the point of cheap laughs and illustrates a lot of depth and sadness into Ig's past. You begin to feel a genuine tenderness towards Ig and sympathize greatly with the loss of his beloved, Merrin. The book also delves into some symbolic "God vs. Satan" territory and blurs the lines of right and wrong. As you learn the truth behind Merrin's death, you find yourself no longer thinking too much about the ethical symbolism nor of the funny horn-affected confessions. You will simply find yourself clutching one of the greatest revenge stories written in contemporary times, and you won't be able to let go until all of the travesties that Ig has suffered are healed. My only complaint is that the times passages detailing the characters' pasts could have been tighter. Those seemed to ramble a bit. Other than that, "Horns" is an excellent, highly recommended read.

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Roll over, Woodstock!

2010-03-16T07:21:00.001-07:00

I have to give it up to my man, Dan, for writing this excellent piece on the Stooges' performance for their Rock & Roll Hall of Fame induction.

The world finally got it, boys. Sure, it's about 30 years too late, but they finally got it.

I only wish Ron could have been there to celebrate with the rest of you.

It's All Right, The Way That You Live

2010-03-01T11:44:00.001-08:00

Party of One: The Loners' Manifesto by Anneli Rufus

My rating: 4 of 5 stars
Amazing book. If you ever feel the need to disconnect yourself from everything and everyone you know, this book will provide you with impetus to do so, (and make you feel good about it). Anneli brings justification to loners everywhere, making us realize that a life among one's self can be every bit as rich and rewarding as that of any party-going socialite. This is a beautiful, eye-opening read. The only thing keeping me from giving it a full-five star rating is the simple fact that nonfiction writing tends to lose me after awhile. Still, the message in this book is powerful and transcendent. I loved it.

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The Not-So-Great Gatsby

2010-02-27T22:19:00.001-08:00

Mixed Blood: A Thriller by Roger Smith

My rating: 4 of 5 stars
A friend of mine recommended this one to me based solely on my penchant for grit lit and George Pelecanos's urban noir. But I've got to say, the Cape Town thugs and corrupt cops in this one make the characters in a Pelecanos story look like the lollipop guild. I read this book in two days, definitely getting that can't-put-it-down sensation you get from a good, fast-paced crime story. I did take issue with the fact that pretty much all of the characters were detestable in one way or another, just completely incapable of gaining your sympathy. Apart from the victimized children, there are no innocents in this novel. Everyone was greedy and violent, leaving a prevalent bloodlust throughout the entire story, (which is probably what the writer was going for; simply illustrating the effects that one of the world's most dangerous cities has on its inhabitants). The police officer, Rudi Barnard, aka. "Gatsby," has to be the most ghastly villain ever interjected into a crime novel. Regardless of my minor complaints, overall I thought this was a well-written and fascinating story, and I loved the South African ghetto backdrop. Definitely not recommended for the faint of heart.

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The Limits of Control

2010-02-25T11:21:00.001-08:00

I just watched this last night; Jarmusch's latest to date. It's definitely not a film for all, but I loved it. It had all of the classic "Erik" trademarks that make me dig a movie. It was quiet, had brilliantly subtle acting, and some of the most beautiful cinematography I've seen in a long, long while. 'Ole Jim did a dynamite job with his lush, sweeping shots of both urban and rustic Spain. For someone who was lucky enough to have traveled throughout Spain for two weeks during one point in his life, I ate up every bit of that imagery like it was the sweetest nectar from the most sacchariferous perennial ever planted. Everything took me straight back to that amazing time, whether it was the star, Isaach De Bankolé, sitting patiently at a Madrid cafe like this:

Or if it was a landscape view of the Spanish countryside from the window of a train:

The very title, The Limits of Control, is surely meant to take on a double meaning in terms of one's self control, (as is exhibited with Isaach's character, who is freakishly calm throughout the entire movie), but also "control" in terms of the powers that be. Every strange character that Isaach encounters is some sort of artsy weirdo who lives outside the confines of politics, economy, and other enslaving aspects that society bestows upon the bohemian-type. In the end, when Issach encounters the object of his mission, you learn that his character is sort of a lone gunman serving on behalf of all the musicians, painters, actors, pseudo-scientists, and other the unconventional spirits in the world.

All in all, it was a fantastic movie, but definitely on the arty side. If that sort of thing ain't your bag, stay away! But it just might surprise you...

Unchain This Heart

2010-02-25T09:06:00.001-08:00

The Pugilist at Rest: Stories by Thom Jones

My rating: 5 of 5 stars
Hands down, the best short story collection I have ever read. Thom stands firmly on the shoulders of Hemingway and Raymond Carver and delivers a most delicious dose of gritty literary fiction. His characters range from damaged, Schopenhauer-reading war vets, to suffering epileptics, lustful ladies, and down-and-out former boxers who struggle to keep it together. These characters are the ones who live on the fringe, but ultimately survive no matter what life throws at them. Every story is a darkly comic life lesson that will remain in your mind for all times, (or at least, that was the case for me). I cannot recommend this one highly enough.

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Books! Check 'em out...

2010-02-22T09:52:00.000-08:00

Some of you may already know about this, but I've been one of the semi-regular book bloggers for my library system's new Book-a-Day blog. It's been a lot fun writing about my favorite books, and my colleagues always keep in the know with their selections too. Here's the link that will take you to all of my blogged-books thus far: http://wakebookaday.wordpress.com/tag/erik-s-s-picks/

Also, for those of you who are into Good Reads, I just started an account with them as well, (although, as of now, I haven't done a whole with it). Here's my user URL: http://www.goodreads.com/suggadelic

Happy reading, all!

Honoring the Fallen Musicians of 2009

2009-12-31T07:23:00.000-08:00

Big thanks to the New York Times for creating this amazing tribute. None of you will ever be forgotten.

Ending 2009 with a bang, a big bang...

2009-12-28T07:01:00.000-08:00

Yesterday the wife and I were involved in a horrible car crash. Basically what happened was a guy sped right through a stop sign from a side street onto a major thoroughfare right as we were driving by. We collided straight into him, T-boned his SUV, which caused him to flip over our hood, (if he had flipped over the top of our car, I may not be sitting here writing right now). After his vehicle flipped over us, he tumbled a few more times and landed in a nearby yard.

After the initial impact, I immediately asked my wife if she was all right, which she was. In her typical care-giving nature, she immediately rushed over to see if the other guy was all right. He climbed out of his car and seemed fine, (although he did have the EMS take him to the hospital). I just limped out of the car, tried to shake off the minor pain I felt in my knee, (which, thankfully, was temporary), and tried not to think of how bad this crash could have been. My hands shake even at this moment over the mere thought of losing Robin. We are extremely fortunate. Plain and simple. That is something we will never forget.

I said before that 2009 has been a really hard year for me. I don't really want to get into all the reasons why, particularly because there are so many people out there who have it way worse than I ever have. It's been a long year with lots of loss and many, many disappointments. Sometimes life is hard and extremely unfair. I try really hard not to wallow in the things that I have lost, or all of the rough stuff that's gone down, (which is easier said than done). Still, I can't be anything but thankful for what I have. We still have a roof over our heads and can afford to feed ourselves and our loving pups. Regardless of the economy taking its toll on my place of employment, I still have a job with relative security. Also, I would be remiss for not saying that we have the best friends and family that anyone could ask for.

Here's to a better year for everyone... May 2010 bring all of you much health, happiness, and better days... Love you guys.

My Top 20 Records of the Decade

2009-12-12T07:47:00.000-08:00

Here goes... In no particular order.

1) "Dap Dippin' with" - Sharon Jones & the Dap-Kings, (Daptone Records - 2002)
I saw them at Kings in Raleigh in 2004 and my jaw dropped right out of my skull. However, I quickly picked it back up because I could not fight the urge to dance my ass off. It was like seeing James Brown in 1969... "Dap Dippin' with" probably remains my favorite release from this mind-blowing band...

2) "Ta Det Lugnt" - Dungen (Subliminal Records - 2004)
They're Swedish, an amazing blend of pastoral psychedelic folk and fuzzed-out Hendrixian chaos. I got to see them once at the Cat's Cradle and I've kept up with everything they've released, side projects and all. One of the few bands that can pull off "retro" and "contemporary" with striking authenticity.

3) "Pink" - Boris (Southern Lord Records - 2005)
Boris is one of my favorite Japanese imports I've heard in recent years. The opening track "Farewell" is SO heavy, but so melodically spacey; the perfect segue before the noise metal madness kicks in. I got to see Boris perform twice this decade, both times w/ Japanese guitar god, Michio Kurihara. Loved it...

4) "Powder Burns" - The Twilight Singers, (One Little Indian Records - 2006)
Back in the '90s I liked the Afghan Whigs just fine, but I was never one of their obsessive cult followers, and I had no idea that I would love Greg Dulli's later project, the Twilight Singers this much. The music is dark, moody, and very soulful. When you listen to this record, you're listening to the man's gut-wrenching pain, and the beautiful sounds it produced. Seeing Greg and Mark Lanegan perform together was an amazing moment for anyone from the late '80s/early '90s generation.

5) "Free and Easy" - Bad Wizard, (Tee Pee Records - 2001)
Whenever I was on tour in the early 2000s, all you heard about Bad Wizard was what dicks they were, and how so-and-so beat up his girlfriend at one show, and then pulled a switchblade on someone at another, etc. Whatever... We played with them one ecstatic night in Chicago and they were fine people, not to mention one of the best rock and roll bands I've ever seen. The MC5/Deep Purple-isms of this record made it an instant party classic for me, and it still is to this day.

6) "Dead Meadow" - Dead Meadow, (Tolotta Records - 2001)
The stoner rock of the 2000's differs greatly from the stoner rock of the '80s and '90s. It's still heavy and groovy, but it's a lot more psychedelic and a lot less metal. The bands started adding a healthy dose of Pink Floyd into their steady diet of Sabbath. Dead Meadow's first record blew me away when I first heard it. The tones, the grooves, the cool, relaxed vibe... I still love it, and I loved having the chance to perform along side them in two separate bands.

7) "My World" - Lee Fields & the Expressions, (Truth & Soul Records - 2009)
All right, so Lee Fields technically celebrated his hey-day in the '70s. Still, I've got to give it up to the man. In this age of Beyonce and Eminem, Lee's latest album smears it all ten times over. It is definitely one of the best soul records of the decade that I've heard. I also have to give kudos to my friend, Ron T., for introducing me to this one. I don't even mind the contemporary production. "Honey Dove" sends a shiver every time.

8) "Lost Souls" - The Doves, (Heavenly Recordings - 2000)
Everyone who knew me in the '90s, knows that I basically only listened to two distinct styles of music; the shoegaze thing, and rock and roll. For the '2000s, it's been way more of the latter than the former, but I still tried to keep an ear out for any British bands that could still deliver the dreamy goods. The Doves' "Lost Souls" records did just that. I own this on vinyl, which sounds incredible. Regardless of the gag-inducing Radiohead comparisons, (a band that I've always found overrated and useless), this remains a special-occasion spin for me. One of my favorite memories from this past year was walking Maeby and Alice on the beach at 6:00AM, listening to "Catch the Sun" on my !Pod.

9) "Veni Vidi Vicious" - The Hives, (Burning Heart Records - 2000)
Say what you will. Call them pretentious douche bags. Call them passe. I do not care. This band slays. This album is a song-per-song 39 minute blast of pure high energy rock and roll and I have never gotten sick of it. It was a constant party spinner for my friends and I around the time of it's release, and I can always count on it rockin' me right to this day, no matter what mood I'm in.

10) "Blue Cathedral" - Comets on Fire, (Subpop Records - 2004)
A bunch of California kids who sound like the Stooges, Blue Cheer, Hawkwind, and the Acid Mother's Temple thrown into a veg-o-matic. Of course Erik is going to love them! No brainer... Every time I slide my tongue across my chipped front teeth, I smile and think fondly of the night they rocked me into a stupor at my local club here in Raleigh. Thank you, fellas, for that blast of psychotropic, outta-control, raw power...

11) "Nude with Boots" - The Melvins, (Ipecac Records - 2008)
So everyone pretty much knows that the Melvins are the undisputed kings of contemporary heavy, (an arguable statement I know, but one that I'll stand by simply for the band's sheer originality throughout the years, along with their ability to win over an extremely diverse fan base). For me, the Melvins were another one of those bands that was more of a '90s soundtrack. I kind of stopped paying attention to them sometime after 1994's "Stoner Witch." On a whim, I gave a listen to "Nude With Boots," and I thought they sounded like a completely revived band. The same old Melvins I had always loved for sure, but less noise-rockin' and more hard rockin'. Still nice and heavy, but with lots of great intricately crafted classic rock riffing, (and of course, Dale Crover's skull-crushing drums, which will always the kicker for anyone who loves these guys).

12) "Greenhornes" - The Greenhornes, (Telstar Records - 2001)
I love garage rock. I mean I really, really love garage rock. I can't go a single day without listening to at least one song that has some raunchy, jangly guitars with a danceable drum beat and some snotty, misogynistic howling. The only thing is, as everyone knows, the only stellar garage rock that exists is the stuff that came out in the '60s. Not that I don't love a lot of contemporary garage bands, but when it comes to my own individual listening, I'd probably throw on a Chocolate Watchband record over anything released by Estrus or Get Hip! any old day. However, the Greenhornes may be an exception. Their 2001 self-titled release, back when they were a five piece, two-guitar group with some lovely Farfisa accompaniment, is a hands-down masterpiece. Every song on the records has all the quirks that make garage geeks like me flip our wigs, but the Greenhornes somehow manage to not sound like dime-a-dozen '60s revivalists. The band exuded a lot a of taste and skill on this album by writing tunes that are a mix of Them, the Zombies, and the Pretty Things, without sounding like rip-off hacks. These days I think some of the Greenhornes dudes are playing with Jack White in one of his post-White Stipe deals, (The Raconteurs, Dead Weather?) I don't know, but I do know that I don't dig that stuff so much.

13) "Origin Vol. I" - The Soundtrack of Our Lives, (Republic Records - 2005)
The third Swedish band to make my list. Maybe I have a one track mind, or maybe Swedish bands just flat out rule... TSOOL has dudes who used to be in Union Carbide Productions, but this project is nowhere near as raucous. The band places a lot of emphasis on their song writing and their sonically-flourished production. In choosing this record over the more widely celebrated "Behind the Music," I'm aware that I am very much in the minority, but this record is the one that truly does it for me. Everything about it; the fine balance of rockers vs. ballads, the themes that allude to loss, uncertainty, and redemption... It's a phenomenal record that always does me right. I have fond memories of it when I was touring with Juliette Lewis's band; just walking around in the heart of Boston while it was very cold and there were people everywhere as I admired the amazing architecture. I remember there was on lyric from "Transcendental Suicide" that set my soul ablaze... "We're gonna live forever... We're on our way to PARADISE!!"

14) "Black Mountain" - Black Mountain, (Jagjaguwar Records - 2005)
Another excellent 2005 release from some Vancouver, BC cats. Stephen McBean, this band's songwriter, could have only written two songs from this record and I would have still declared it one of my faves of the decade. Those being "Modern Music," and "No Satisfaction." Both of songs, lyrically, say so much by keeping things very simple: "Another pop explosion... We CAN'T STAND your modern music!!" and "Let's light up your down, and get things happening. We can't get no satisfaction." Musically, the record is a tasteful blend of the Stones, the Velvet Underground, Can, and Sabbath, (yes, they make all of that work). I think I have yet another unpopular opinion in preferring this one over their 2008 follow-up, "In the Future." Whatever. This is the one that reached out to me, and the one that I happily embraced.

15) "What Is?!" - King Khan & his Shrines, (Vice Records - 2007)
I can't pretend to know everything about this Berlin-residing, French-Canadian-Indian's very prolific output, (the Shrines, the BBQ Show, etc.), but I do know that "What Is?!" absolutely slays. It's gotta a little MC5 mixed with some of Otis Redding's more rockin' moments, and plenty of minor key, psychedelic Arthur Lee-type vibes. Like I was saying in the aforementioned Greenhornes praise, this record has all the elements that make classic garage/soul records great, but Mr. Khan does a fine job in making everything sound fresh and new. I think, (at least during my last listening), there is a nine piece band performing on this record, (guitars, bass, drums, horns, percussion, organ, backing vocalists, etc.). The songs make you wanna move, the production is great, and the flow is spot on... Not a single bad thing about it.

16) "Anthem of the Moon" - Oneida, (Jagjaguwar Records - 2001)
I almost feel like I'm breaking my "no local band allowed"-rule because Oneida has played many, many shows in the towns where I've spent the past 10 years of my life, (even though they're Brooklyn cats). Not to mention the fact that they're such sweet, righteous guys, that I considered them all friends from day one. I have to give Oneida props for the mind-opening experiences I was lucky enough to witness before I knew them all personally. I remember the first time I saw them in Richmond, I was snottily thinking, "These dudes are trying to be a punk rock Silver Apples or Can, a mere extension of the experimental-era of the '60s," but that is totally not the case with them, and also, so what if they are? I mean a punk rock Silver Apples? WTF is wrong with that?! Nothing!! Had I stayed with that opinion, (which I didn't), and had I expressed that opinion to them, (which I didn't), they would have probably just laughed at me. Because honestly, they picked up where those bands left off. If you have any doubts to what I'm saying, just listen to "All Arounder" off this record; an amazing rocker, and Kid's drumming is some of the best of the decade. I haven't talked to Oneida in awhile, but I'm sure they're still killing it somewhere... (White Hills? Anyone?)

17) "Howl on the Haunted Beat You Ride" - The Go, (Cass Records - 2007)
Honestly, not my favorite by these guys. That title goes to their ultra-rocking 1999 Subpop release, "Whatcha Doin?", (which immediately disqualifies them for this list due to it's previous-decade status). Still, I think The Go are a fine band who deserve much respect. "Howl" has a great Beatles/Beach Boys psych-pop vibe. I met The Go years back when they were touring on their aforementioned Sub Pop release. They, along with Bad Wizard, put on one of the best rock shows I have ever seen. Jack White was in their band. They ditched him. Eventually, Sub Pop ditched them and all bands like them in favor of garbage like Bright Eyes. Everything has been downhill for The Go ever since. Still, they persevere. They have continued to release great records, and they have continued to tour. The Go is the living embodiment of rock and roll, because they keep doing it. It's something they can't not do, and they always have my respect for being the band they are.

18)"Greendale" - Neil Young, (Reprise Records - 2003)
Yeah, yeah. I know. He's an icon whose best records will always be whatever is not his current release. Still, I thought Greendale was damn good. Critics hated it. I loved it. It had nice stripped down production, a good story-telling vibe, and lots of sweet, innocent and song writing, which is exactly what I love about Neil Young, (or why anyone loves him I suppose). Robin and I have listened to that record in the house a lot over the past few years, and we splurged on a joint Christmas gift for one another a few years back to go see him at an old theater in DC, complete with a nice stay in a swanky Dupont Circle hotel. "A little love and affection in everything you do, will make the world a better place, with or without you."

19) "Sun Awakens" - The Six Organs of Admittance, (Drag City Records - 2006)
I had to have at least one record during the past near-decade that was mopey acoustic music. Actually, this record isn't mopey to me at all. I think during the year it was released I described it to a friend as sounding sort of like a conjuring, like the kind of music you'd hear around a campfire in Northern Britain during a pagan ritual, or something from an ancient Persian desert for that matter. It would be all too easy to dismiss the Six Organs of Admittance as "hipster folk," but I think that would be an extremely harsh assessment because, to me, this sounds very genuine and nonpretentious. There is a lot of heart and volition in Ben Chasney's songwriting. I have enjoyed this record a lot since the day I bought it, particularly during my travels, (especially when heading out west to the desert).

20) "Living is the Best Revenge" - the Cynics, (Get Hip! Records - 2002)
I'd thought the Cynics were long gone. I knew Get Hip! was still active as a label, but I hadn't paid any attention to the Cynics in very long while. Lo and Behold, I'm driving around in Chapel Hill one day, (back when I was still a driver for UNC), and the opening track to this record, "Turn Me Loose," is rocking HARD on WXYC. I heard that delicious fuzz guitar, that crazy Kastelich snarl, and thought, "This can't be the Cynics?!!" I was wrong and happy all at once. I was even happier when they came through town shortly after so I could see them live and buy a red vinyl copy of the record. Needless to say I was even more thrilled when they signed my band to Get Hip! Records. Of course, we broke up before actually recorded or released anything for them. It was one of the many, many strange things that I experienced this past decade...

In a Silent Way

2008-09-09T20:32:00.000-07:00

Sometime last summer I wrote a post titled, Top Five Jazz Records for a Jazz Poseur. I no longer consider myself a jazz poseur, but it's not because I've since acquired an extensive collection of jazz records, nor have I come to possess some worldly-knowledge of jazz; where I'm able to cross reference who played what instrument during so-and-so's session during this-or-that year, etc. I am no longer a jazz poseur simply because I no longer care about what makes one a jazz poseur or a jazz expert. Hell, truth be told, even when I wrote that previous post, I couldn't have cared less about such a thing. I was just trying to highlight the jazz records that made me feel good. The ones I chose were:

1) Sun Song - Sun Ra

2) Ah Um - Charles Mingus

3) Live Evil - Miles Davis

4) Jazz Impressions of Japan - Dave Brubeck

5) Free Jazz - Ornette Coleman

In all honesty, the appeal of that Ornette Coleman record wore off very quickly. I don't even think I've listened to it since the time I wrote that post. I still agree with everything that Erik from the June of '07 said, but Erik from September of '08 has decided that he doesn't want to listen to the sound of a nervous breakdown, unless it's Syd Barrett

or Black Flag.

One thing that older Erik and the young Erik definitely have in common, is that regardless of the fact that I still love to rock like crazy while I'm playing music, when I am in my home, I am completely codependent on something mellow, something sweet, and something that's good for the soul, (if you don't believe me, just scroll down and read my Krautrock posting from a few weeks back).

I don't want to talk about how hard I've been working these days between school, the library, my band and other things, because that's not the purpose of my blog. Sure, I can bitch about whatever my heart desires. I mean, afterall, it's my blog. But more than anything, I dig reflecting on the fine things life has chosen to give me, like coming home after a hard day and getting that amazing frantic greeting at the door courtesy of my three spazzed-out pups, and seeing Robin, talking with one another about how the past eight hours we've spent away from one another have treated us, and then just sharing a good meal together. Tonight we ate some pasta, lit up the living room with candle light and listened to "In a Silent Way." Truly one of the most beautiful records I have ever heard. Afterwards, I was happy.

Sweet Sixteen

2008-08-23T07:38:00.000-07:00

Just wanted to add this quick posting of Iggy in 1978 doing a live television performance of "Sixteen," which is from the Lust for Life record. As you all know, I'm a total Stooge-a-holic, and I seldom give recognition to solo Iggy. However, this tune was always my favorite track from Lust for Life. I love that riff. To me, it always sounded like a dissonant Keef riff, which just plain rules... At any rate, enjoy this incredible footage of the man, (and watch the drum set get killed at the end)...

The Healing Powers of Krautrock and a Good Breakfast

2008-08-12T19:13:00.000-07:00

Breakfast at Erik's...

I had a few hours to kill this morning before I went to work, so I decided to start the day with one of those "Feed the Soul"-meals by having breakfast at the backyard table while I cranked La Düsseldorf in the background. As you can see in the photo, my breakfast consisted of some juice, some good 'ole black coffee, a veggie sausage and cheddar omelet w/wheat toast, and George Pelecanos' The Night Gardener, (which is definitely his most popular. I decided to give it a chance after being a little let down with The Sweet Forever).

The weather was amazing; a low '80s cool that could all too easily give me some autumn-fever, (it's been crazy-hot this summer). Kubrick, Alice, and Maeby were having a good time too, particularly my little boy, Kubrick, who is like my shadow.

As I enjoyed the company of my pups and the delicious-ness of my food, I decided to just kick back and let those beautiful Krautrock drones take my mind somewhere else altogether. It was good to just sit there in peace and not think about the library projects I've been busting my ass working on, or the Suburban Sweethearts songs I'm obsessing over, or my pending final semester of grad school. Because when it gets down to it, that's what Krautrock does... It simply takes your mind and your heart away from anything that brings you down, even if for a little while. The melodies, the grooves, everything about it. Even the polar opposite-sounding bands within the genre, like Amon Duul or Cluster, are capable of producing the same results for me.

There are, literally, over 2,000,000 internet resources on Krautrock, so there's definitely no need for me to be redundant and give you Krautrock History-101. The overall gist of the Krautrock movement is that it began in Germany during the late '60s and continued to evolve throughout the '70s. Even though it is essentially a German art form, generally the Brits are credited with bringing Krautrock to an international level, (two Brits in particular, John Peel and Julian Cope).

No two bands in the genre sound alike, but generally the idea is more or less the same among them: Hypnotic psychedelic grooves, guitar and/or synthesizer-based drones, interesting but minimal rhythms, and an overall brilliantly mind-altering effect on the listener, (which, for me, simply means that my state of mind improves significantly as a result of listening). Not to mention the fact that Krautrock may have been the last "undiscovered" rock music for me.

When you're young you start with your favorite rock and rollers. In my case, that would be Kiss. From Kiss, a whole slew of classic rockers began hitting it for me before I became engaged with the schlock-rock of the '80s. Then sometime in my teenage years I discovered punk rock. After that I went back a bit further, (with proto-punk a-la the Stooges, the Dolls and the MC5). Then came garage rock, (The Shadows of Knight, the Chocolate Watchband). Then I think it was an extended discovery of more psychedelia, (like Syd Barrett and the 13th Floor Elevators), with some jazz and funk thrown in on the side, until eventually I stumbled upon this incredible German music, and it electrified me every bit as much as the other music did when I first heard it...

Here are my Top Five Krautrock moments:

1) Initial introduction in the Early '90s. "Move over Faith Healers, hello Can"...

Around 1991 to about 1993, I was REALLY into the British noise-pop, Shoegazer movement. It was perfect music for a little daydreaming dumbass like me. The music was loud, psychedelic and incredibly escapist. One band who, to this day, I still consider myself very lucky to have seen perform, is Th' Faith Healers.

One of my favorite songs this band did was called "Mother Sky." Little did I know this song was a cover. One day I was in Plan 9 Records in Richmond, Va. and I heard a different version cranked through the store's sound system. Marc Nelson, from the old Richmond trio, Labradford, was working there at the time. I instantly rushed to him and asked him who the hell that was doing the amazing version of the Faith Healers song. He just smiled and said, "This is Can," (looking back on things, I'm thankful for the fact that Marc was way too nice of a guy to call me on what a poseur-ish moment I had just stumbled into).

I LOVE CAN! Since the day I first heard them at Plan 9, Can has been a regular part of the soundtrack to Erik's life. Some may even consider them the quintessential Krautrock band. They were groovy, psychedelic, not afraid to take risks, and very powerful. Sometimes I think some of their beats predated hip hop every bit as much as James Brown, (although I'm sure many would say that's a stretch, ;) My personal favorites are Ege Bamyasi and Tago Mago, but just about any record from the first few years, with either Malcolm Mooney or the great Damo Suzuki singing, will blow your mind...

2) Popol Vuh cures Erik of insomnia

As I had mentioned in one my previous posts, I'm a huge fan of the German director, Werner Herzog. One Herzog film in particular that I absolutely adore is Nosferatu, partly because of the stunning actress, Isabelle Adjani, but also because of the incredible Popol Vuh soundtrack.

Popol Vuh was the brainchild of a man named Florian Fricke. He was a genius, plain and simple. Florian was every bit as talented as any classical composer, and his imagination for creating the most intricate soundscape music was absolutely limitless. You can hear some of Popol Vuh's sound samples here.

Years back I was having a rough time. I was going through a period where I was pretty unhappy with things in my life and I simply felt stuck. It was pretty much due to job situations, band dramas, fall-outs with friends, etc. The usual nonsense. Although I had the love and support of my wife, there were still those creeping thoughts in my mind, like spiders in the dark corners of your house, that kept me awake almost all night, every night. However, once I discovered the soothing effect of Popol Vuh's music, and discovered that their music could all-too easily transcend the "movie soundtrack" status, I found something that could put me at ease instantly, cleanse those bad thoughts, and help me drift away into the direction where I needed to go.

3) Walking to the library, listening to Neu!

Did you ever think that one note could be so beautiful? It can...

The spring before last, when I was still working at the Cameron Village Library in downtown Raleigh, I began to take advantage of the cool spring weather by walking to work. There are a lot of bike-riding enthusiasts in Raleigh, but I'm way too lazy to battle this hilly-ass city on a bike. For me, walking from my neighborhood through downtown Raleigh to the Cameron Village is a very peaceful experience. There is a subtle transition from the leafy Oakwood area to the neon-dazzle of the Person Street Krispy Kreme, (a definite Raleigh landmark). You pass Peace College, pass the more urban and industrious sections of Peace Street, (until you hit Glenwood South), and then you just stroll past Broughton High and head straight into the Cameron Village. For me, Neu! was the perfect soundtrack for these walks. Their hypnotic, pounding rhythms and bright guitar sounds put me into the state of being that I liked to find before beginning a work shift. Actually, the thing I miss the most about not working at the Cameron Village is taking those walks and listening to Neu!, Can, Amon Duul or whoever...

4) Having a "Krautrock Celebration Night" with Joel

Joel and I had both been digging a lot of these bands, and we thought it'd be a swell time to get together and make an entire evening out of drinking deliciously expensive German beer and listening to deliciously rockin' Krautrock. That's right. The above passages tend to focus on my individual Krautrock-listening experiences. However, when you're hanging with one of your pals, it ain't all that easy to just chillout and meditate to Popol Vuh or Neu! Therefore, Joel and I got wasted and focused most of our attention on the more rockin' bands of the genre, like Amon Duul II:

And Guru Guru:

And Faust:

5) Spending three consecutive days drunk with James , and having a Krautrock soundtrack for the entire occasion.

It was Easter weekend. I had been turned down for a library position that I worked very, very hard to get, (which in retrospect was a blessing in disguise). But at the time, I definitely wasn't really in all that good of a frame of mind. I also generally don't make any plans for Easter or want to do anything "special." Thankfully, neither does James. So, what better way to improve the state of things by hanging out with your best friend and getting annihilated, and remaining annihilated.

James and I considered it our "lost weekend." We took full advantage of the fact that it was just he and I, no wives, no family, no jobs, no one or anything else... As soon as I arrived at his place in Sunset Park, we immediately walked down a few blocks to Winnie's Tavern, (a neighborhood watering hole for lifers), and started guzzling. After that we took his dog Coby down to the beach, drank there, then went downtown to grab some dinner before we preceded to hit almost every bar worth going to. The next day, we woke up and did it all again. Even though it was April, the air was chilly and the skies were gray and rolling; which provided a perfect atmosphere for a weekend-long Krautrock soundtrack. We kicked Can, Faust, Neu!, Harmonia, and Cluster, (the latter two definitely being the most fitting). As James said, Harmonia and Cluster provided the perfect "eerie and surreal" touches to a such a continuous high-octane event...

Even though the plans were laid at the time, it's hard to believe that just one year later I would be performing the wedding rites for James and his lady...

So anyway, folks. All I can say is that if you ever find yourself in a state of disarray, or if you're having trouble keeping it together, try the Erik remedy. Fix yourself a good breakfast, and more importantly, allow yourself the maximum amount of time to enjoy it. And of course, try a little German sunshine in your life... That may seem oxy-moronic, but it definitely works for me. You may be surprised where the music takes your mind.

R.I.P. Ray Underhill

2008-08-08T10:43:00.000-07:00

I just found out that one of my favorite Powell Skaters from the late '80s passed away due to a brain tumor on Friday morning, August 1, 2008. This hit me kind of hard, because a friend of mine is going through a similar ordeal. My friend has A LOT of heart, and just about the entire NC Triangle is backing him up. And through our love and support we're going to see him through this, no matter what happens...

As for Ray Underhill, he was tearing up the skateboarding world during what, I could safely say, was my favorite era of skateboarding. It was the late '80s. All of us were in high school, dying for the moment when the school bell rang so we could get home to our boards. I loved street skating more than anything, but I also dug the guys who could do it right on the ramps. Powell Peralta had no shortage of these guys...

Ray was an east coaster in a west coast dominated sport, but he always carried that laid-back, non-competitive east coast attitude with him everywhere he went. Even if you had never met him, you couldn't help but love the guy. Ray was cool, funny, he skated smooth, and had some mighty long-ass hair which I really dug, (for those of you who remember me back then, I sported some pretty long locks myself). It wasn't easy growing up as a little long-haired skate rat in a hellhole like Williamsburg, so it was good to look to pros like Ray as winners; the ones who made it and lived a life worth living...

I've been thinking a lot about heavy stuff like this lately; partly due to my friend who I mentioned, but also because it's just one of those times. We're all kind of at the age when parents start dying, friends get sick, and life just throws you a lot of difficult mixed bags that you didn't think you were going to have to deal with so soon. All I know to do, is to drink up the goodness I get out of knowing these people, and be thankful every day for what I've gotten from them...

And with that, here's one of my favorite clips of Ray. It's from the old Powell movie, Ban This. He was doing what he loved most with his best friends, (Joe Johnson, Kevin Staab, Chris Miller, and of course, Tony Hawk).

Newest Discovery, and it's mighty Soggy...

2008-08-05T08:09:00.000-07:00

It's been a long time since I sat and passed my time by searching through old YouTube clips for bands. Recently, a guy on my MySpace posted this semi-embarrassing footage of the MC5 butchering "Louie Louie" during their soon-to-be-canceled tour of Scandinavia. I had seen some equally embarrassing footage from this same performance, (aka. Wayne drunkenly trying to lead the band through a rendition of the Five's staple Troggs' cover of "I Want You"). So I looked to the "Related Videos" sidebar to see if I could dredge up the performance I had seen before. After a few clicks and a little navigating, I happily stumbled upon this "Soggy" discovery:

So far, I know very little about Soggy except that they were French, circa 1980, donned the NWOBHM sound of time, and had a singer who was obviously obsessed with Iggy Pop and the MC5. As you might have imagined, I'm loving them...

If you'd like more information about Soggy, go here to Expressway to My Skull.

Oh, and speaking of the Stooges, check out these amazing clips, (and forget all about much I dissed Iggy in my previous posting, ;)

Gimmee Some Skin

1970, Live @ the Goose Creek Hippy Festival in Goose Creek, Michigan

I Hope I Die Before I...

2008-07-28T11:33:00.001-07:00

Someone passed the above photo on to me recently. It was taken sometime in the early 2000s when I was touring with my old band, the Dragstrip Syndicate. It couldn't have been any longer than six years ago, but it feels like an entire universe of change has happened in my life since then. I look different. I feel different. I am different.

Not meaning to make light of the immortal words of Mr. Townsend, but unlike the young angry Pete in 1965, I really don't hope I die before I get old. For as long as I can remember, I've always looked forward to the aging process. Not so much in terms of the physical, but more so in regards to the wisdom and spiritual growth that comes with aging. For me, growing old always meant moving on and looking back on all the cool things you've done in life and throwing away all of the elements that no longer need to be a part of it. Or as an old college friend of mine once told me, "When you hit your '30s, all the stuff that drove you crazy in your '20s doesn't matter in the slightest." He doesn't know how right he was...

However, as a musician and a performer, I can't help but hearken back to Pete Townsend's line in "My Generation." Should musicians just pack it in when they get old? In his case, no. I recently saw a VH1 special where they honored the Who, and Pete and Roger tore it up. But unfortunately, that's not always the case with a lot of their contemporaries. Take Crosby, Stills, Nash, & Young for example.

It's very hard to believe that these four men, all of whom helped deliver some of the best and most memorable rock and roll of the '60s, would one day create this suckfest:

As an EW critic, Owen Gleiberman, astutely put it: To anyone who grew up on the plaintive hippie harmonies of Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, and who wonders what they sound like now, here's the answer: They sound like tuneless warblers at a karaoke party.

Even dudes like my long-time idol, Iggy Pop, are falling into this category.

To his credit, Iggy has aged very well physically, which is amazing considering most people didn't think he would live past the age of 30.

Sadly, Iggy has done it too. But... For awhile there all signs were pointing otherwise. Joel L. and I drove up to NYC four years back to see the Stooges headline an all-day dream line-up at Little Steven's International Garage Rock Festival, which included the Stooges, the New York Dolls, the Pretty Things, Bo Diddley, Big Star, the Creation, the Chocolate Watchband, and many other overwhelmingly cool bands that I can't recall at the moment. Regardless of the festival's many criticisms, pretty much everyone agreed on one thing. The Stooges KILLED it...

The Stooges played an awe-inspiring set to about 16,000+ people, a total once-in-a-lifetime gem of a moment for old school Stooges fans like me who thought they would never experience the band live. Someone shot some decent footage of the band playing "I Wanna Be Your Dog" and part of "TV Eye," (just be sure to keep your eyes on the stage screen, ;)

So rather than unearthing themselves after a 30 year hiatus and tear it up with an occasional live performance to prove they're still the kings that time has proven them to be, those knuckleheads screwed it all up by releasing a new album.

This Albini-produced garbage is an utter embarrassment. Since my first and only time that I listened to this record, I've done a pretty good job of denying it's existence and concentrating on the only Stooges records that matter; the real ones.

So yeah... It happens to the best of us rocker-types. The Stones keep at it and still keep us loving them regardless of Keith looking like he's about to keel over at any moment. The surviving members of the Who can still deliver. Kiss still hides their ugly mugs under layers of face paint. Iggy proves time and time again that he remains one of the best rock performers of all time. However, this does NOT mean that we can handle their "new" music. I can't think of time I heard something "new" by any of these guys that I thought was worth a deuce. But does this mean that I feel like they should pack it in and just disappear? No. I say no, because I love them all and I love what they do, and I love doing it too. The world may tell these guys they need to stop, but the most "rock and roll" thing they could probably all do at this point is keep their attitudes in tact, and just keep doing what has driven them their whole lives...

As for me, I have no delusions over the fact that I'm not getting any younger. Each year it gets harder and harder to stay skinny. My knees hurt more and more each time I play, (and so do the hangovers, ;) But even though my body may be giving me the early-warning signs, I ain't about to stop anytime soon, because I can't.

Food: Good for the Soul

2008-07-22T21:02:00.000-07:00

"Nothing would be more tiresome than eating and drinking if God had not made them a pleasure as well as a necessity." ~Voltaire

Awhile back I read one of Greg Barbera's blog posts that he dedicated to food. He was going through a pretty rough time and spoke of the healing powers of food, which is totally true. It was also Greg who recently hooked me up with this amazing mojo-marinated chicken recipe where you simmer black beans, red onion, and jalapeno in stout beer. If you want the recipe, hit him up at his Chest Pains blog, (but just don't ask him about drinking Vitamin Water).

But anyway, back to food. Whenever I'm having a bad day at work, which these days, thankfully, doesn't happen nearly as often as it used to, (if you read my previous entry on jobs, you'll know why), some tasty eats always does the trick. Maybe it's a pizza or a burrito, or maybe it's a plate of huevos rancheros. Regardless, a good meal can temporarily heal some of your psychological ills. Sometimes you eat something so savory that it demands every bit of your attention and consciousness; a meal so good that it would be nearly impossible to read a book while eating, or to carry on a conversation with someone where you were actually listening to everything they were saying. For me, that meal is at Tower Restaurant in Morrisville, which specializes in amazingly delicious southern India food, (it's also vegetarian). If you like Indian food, this place is by far the best I've ever had.

Other places in the Raleigh/Durham/Chapel Hill area that give me that "turn off your mind and let your meal heal"-kinda feeling are:

Baja Burrito, (in Mission Valley near NC State)

Be sure to try the brown rice/grilled veggie burrito and get a side of salsa.

Carburrito, (in Carborro kinda near the Cat's Cradle)

Another burrito joint I know, but their fish and rice burrito is amazing. Not to mention their salsa menu.

The Oakwood Cafe, (on Person Street in downtown Raleigh).

Their food is all Argentinian and Cuban and is crazy delicious. I would suggest either the Mahi Mahi or the grilled chicken in chimichurri sauce.

The Five Star, (in downtown Raleigh on Hargett Street).

Some of the best Chinese food I've ever had. The seared duck breast w/ orange sauce, the crispy green bean appetizers, the scallion pancakes, and the crab rangoons are all quite incredible..

If anyone can suggest any other good eats in the area, let me know! I'm all about trying a new spot.

Sunshine & Sunburned, but Recharged and Ready

2008-07-19T13:37:00.000-07:00

So Robin and I made it back from Oak Island earlier this afternoon. It was paradise... We stayed one block away from the beach and had a double masters suite condo all to ourselves. I spent the entire week either in my swimming trunks or my bath robe. Nothing else. The ocean was warm and soothing, the beach was relaxing, the pool at the condo was refreshing, and the time we had with one another was heavenly. However, we did miss our dogs, (who apparently were an absolute nightmare for our house sitter. Sorry Holly!)...

Between periodic dips into the sea, sipping vodka cranberries, and just dozing off, my beach read this year was Robert Greenfield's Exile on Mainstreet: a Season in Hell with the Rolling Stones, (pictured above).

Just when you think that you've outgrown being seduced by all the "rock and roll" stories, a book like this comes your way. My friend and bandmate, Joe Yerry, said I should check to see if my library carries this book. I had forgotten all about his suggestion until I stumbled upon the book in the returns bin one day. I picked it up, flipped through it, and then realized that there is still a trace of that idolatry-stricken child in me, because this book captivated me, hook, line, and sinker. I can't even begin to describe it and do it justice, but Greenfield does a mindblowing job chronicling that hazy, debauched, cutthroat and violent summer in the South of France at Villa Nellcote when the Stones were working on their Exile on Mainstreet record.

The only thing I can think to compare it to is the days of the Roman Empire when the rulers lived in orgiastic excess. It is indeed the rock and roll party supreme... You begin to feel like you would give almost anything to be at Nellcote when all of this is going on, but at the same time, most of the hangers-on who partied with the Stones that summer died very shortly after. Heroin...

Anyway... So far this has been a fantastic summer. And oh yeah, as per Mr. Lindelof's comments on my not being able to sit through an entire baseball game. There is some truth to what he speaks, but the game he's referring was the recent Bulls game against Rochester that went on for 13 innings! I simply couldn't take it and had to split for the nearest pub. Here were Joel and James and Erin's reactions to my decision:

Stoned, England, and the Durham Bulls

2008-07-12T06:43:00.000-07:00

So the other night I finally got around to seeing the movie, Stoned, which is a biopic based on the late, great, but generally unfriendly and debauched, Brian Jones...

I really expected this film to be horrible, but it was surprisingly well-acted and pretty interesting, and I'm a HUGE Rolling Stones fan; particularly of the Brian Jones-era. The kid who played Brian did a convincing enough job, and the actress who portrayed Anita Pallenberg was gorgeous indeed...

What I didn't like:

-Excessively over-illustrating the '60s LSD parties. Very cheesy, and it's been done countless times in other films. And as far as I'm concerned, NO filmmaker should ever use Jefferson Airplane's "White Rabbit" for an acid-taking scene ever again...

- The kid who played Keith Richards looked NOTHING like the man, (that's him on the far left).

What I liked:

- There were some amazingly authentic music scenes, particularly at the beginning of the film, (in 1963), when the Stones were playing a blues number to a small crowd. Also, the '65-era riot seemed painfully recreated from all the photographs. Very nice...

- The montage of Brian and his various stages as he sings Buddy Holly's "Not Fade Away." Nicely done.

- The kid who played Mick Jagger looked EXACTLY like him.

- The tension between Brian and his builder, Frank. Apparently the script is based on Ana Wohlin and Tom Keylock's recollections, all of which point to the fact that Brian was very harsh and manipulative to the poor schmuck he hired to work on his house.

- The movie didn't shy away from the fact at all that Brian was murdered, which I totally believe to be true.

This is England...

So I must be grading movies on a curve these days, because This is England was another movie like Stoned where, truth be told, it was just simply average. It takes place in 1983 and tells the story of an 11-year old boy whose dad was killed in the Falkland War. He's an angry child, perpetually bullied in school, until he befriends a group of skinheads. You can pretty much guess what happens from there...

However, much to my surprise, the skins this child befriends are not racist, Aryan Front skins, (well that is until later)... The gang originally sets out to be the original ska-type skins. This is evident in the one gang member, Milky, who, as you can see in the photo, is indeed mighty black. Unfortunately, later in the film, Milky doesn't fare so well...

Overall, I'd say this movie is a solid C+/B-, but it does have some great scenes, and the director did a fantastic job in portraying just how dismal working-class England was in the early '80s, (the fabulous era of "Ronnie & Maggie," a time well reflected in both the U.S. and the U.K)... Also, the Toots and the Maytals soundtrack kicks all kindsa ass...

Today I'm getting together with some friends to see the Durham Bulls play against Rochester. Cannot wait...

Since I've been taking summer classes for the past year or so, I don't really get to indulge in too many "summer fun" activities. But these days, I do enjoy a good baseball game, (as well as copious amounts of beer-guzzling whilst watching them)...

Next week, Robin and I are headed for Oak Island. That's the summer activity that I truly love... (And these days, I am in dire need of it)...

Four Random Things I'm Diggin'

2008-06-12T21:10:00.000-07:00

- The re-re-rediscovery of '70s-era glitter/glam. The songs I'm diggin' in particular are "Turn It Down" by the Sweet, "Love Now" by Mott the Hoople, "Fire" by the Walkers, "Shine My Machine" by Suzi Quatro, "Snatch & Grab It" by Frut, "Black Country Rock" by David Bowie, and "Do You Wanna Touch Me (Oh Yeah)" by the Glitter Band. Sometimes you just want a simple rock and roll song that just makes you wanna move...

- The book, "The Professor and the Madman" by Simon Winchester. It's the real life story of the mid-18th century scholar who compiled the Oxford English Dictionary, and the sex crazed, Civil War-damaged murderer who, unbeknown to the scholar, ended up as his main contributor. The next time you use the OED to look up a word like "quittal" or "narrowness", just imagine a deranged lunatic stating his case on how the entire English-speaking world needs to know that particular word along with all its Latin roots. And then think about how much this freak has potentially influenced the way we all speak and read.

- Werner Herzog's films. I just spent three days sick as a dog, laying on the couch, re-watching my whole DVD collection. My friend James let me borrow the Herzog/Kinski set, which includes Fitzcarraldo, Aguirre: Wrath of God, Nosferatu, Woyszek, Cobra Verde, and My Best Friend, Klaus Kinski. All of those films are amazing, but it was a completely seperate DVD, Stroszek, that really hit home with me. Most hipsters recognize Stroszek as the film that Ian Curtis watched before he hung himself. It's all too easy to say something dumb like, "No wonder he hung himself after watching that," but that movie truly is an amazing work of art, and it is indeed dark. You witness an innocent, albeit very foolish man, crumble before your very eyes, and what's worse is that main character is portraying the real-life version of himself! Stroszek is an incredibly powerful movie. It illustrates the potentially ugly truth of America and mankind in general; seductive and seemingly beautiful, but ultimately cruel and unforgiving.

- Seeing Swervedriver live for the first time since 1998. They played the other night at the Cat's Cradle. Swervedriver hit the British music scene back in '91 or so. My first time seeing them was in late '92, and they lit my world on fire... Although they were lumped into the whole "Shoegazer" category, they were nothing like their contemporaries. No one can deny that Swervedriver's music was plenty psychedelic, but they were a far cry from the mopey dullards they were often associated with. Here it is almost 10 years to the date since I last witnessed the band perform; my 7th time seeing them in total. Jez, the band's drummer, said it best... "Don't listen to them when they say we're shoegazer throwbacks. All we are is a rock and roll band; a really good one." I got together with two of my best friends, James and Andy. We started drinking at 3:00 in the afternoon. And by 1:30 AM, all of us had been blissfully rocked into Swervie-heaven...

Jobs

2008-01-23T02:35:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night, groggy and disoriented. It takes a few minutes for my mind to grasp the reality that I'm lying in my own bed next to my wife with my oldest dog, Kubrick, curled up at my feet. In these moments, it's 1990 and I'm a busboy at a restaurant in Williamsburg, slipping on a wet floor and dropping a stack of dishes. Or maybe it's 1999 and I'm in Richmond, working in a West End cafe, getting reamed by some rich bitch because she doesn't like the cappuccino I just made for her. Or better yet, it's 2005 and I'm sitting at my desk at the transcription office in Raleigh where I used to work. I'm fighting a miserable hangover, dealing with my office manager's mood swings, and stewing over my current band dramas while grinding my teeth as I try to ignore all the inner-office politics that surround me.

I'm not saying that I'm above the people I used to work with, the customers I used to serve, or the work I used to do. It's just simply of matter of, when it gets down to it and you really think about it, jobs are just flat-out strange. Never in your life will you experience such a bizarre mix of laughter, anger, resentment, joy, appreciation, and bitterness all at once. It's true. Sometimes I look back on the strange work I've done in my life and it blows my mind. Sometimes I laugh. Sometimes I scoff, wondering how I wasted so many years doing something that made me so uncomfortable and so unhappy. Sometimes I realize that I'm being a hypersensitive douche and come to the realization that I always, (more or less), took something positive from every miserable job I've ever worked.

I started working when I was 15, and I've been employed somewhere, doing something, every day of my life since, (minus a two month period when I was collecting unemployment because both of the jobs I was working at the time went out of business, which I have to admit was absolutely wonderful). My father has always been a hard working man, and I like to think that I've inherited just a small portion of his work ethic. I'm old school like that. What can I say? It means a lot to me. I always kinda turned my nose up to people who just coasted by on the job thing. It's not something I always did consciously, but looking back on things, I was always secretly a little harsh on the couch-surfing mooches who refused to work, but were perfectly fine eating their roommates' food or drinking their buddies' beer. Who knows... Maybe I was just bitter because I always had to shove off to some place I'd rather not be, while they enjoyed their time as their own. Because that's what it comes down to, isn't it? When you begin to think about all the weird jobs you have, it's a matter of, "I did that for how long?!", or, "Why the hell did I put up with that and not work somewhere else?!"

Regardless, it's always a trip to look back on it all... (I'm not going to list all of my jobs... Just the ones that stand out in my mind for whatever reason)...

That Seafood Place, Williamsburg, Va.

I was a busboy for the summer. It was a busy-ass place.

Why it sucked: I was forced to wear my hair in a ponytail AND had to shove it down the back of my shirt. The boss guy would always catch me taking it out and say something like, "Don't take your ponytail out while you're standing next to my salad bar, you homo!" (I still laugh at that asinine quote to this day).
What didn't suck: I got to work with a lot of my high school friends, and collectively, we all drooled over the ultra-hot William and Mary chicks who worked their as waitresses. They were so far out of our league that it wasn't funny, but there was definitely no shortage of eye candy for a bunch of horny 15 and 16 year old dudes.

Cheatham Annex Naval Base, Yorktown, Va.

I was a landscaper for the base golf course. It was a blue collar golf course overlooking the York river. The golfers were a weird mix of beer drinking good 'ole boys, Navy retirees, and serious country-clubbing golfers who were "slumming it."

Why it sucked: The boss, Mike, was an older Navy retiree who hated my guts. I sometimes wonder why the hell he even hired me. He hated my hair. He hated my clothes. He hated the way I did things. I could do no right in his eyes. I heard he died a few years ago. I was not unhappy to hear that.

What didn't suck: I was working outside on a relatively beautiful stretch of land along the York. It was perfect for the little daydreaming dumbass that I was. To this day, I still have fond memories of blissing out, listening to the Velvet Underground on my walkman as I trimmed the fairways bright and early. Also, the golfers, particularly the ones who were pals with my dad, all hated my boss every bit as much as I did and always had my back. "Don't worry, kid! Tell Mike to kiss your ass!"

The Williamsburg Pottery, Williamsburg, Va.

I had started attending community college that fall, (before dropping out a few months later), and needed some kind of income. My sister was dating a kid who had some kind of clout at the Pottery. The Williamsburg Pottery is an institution in good 'ole Billyburg, and a definite tourist trap. My sister's boyfriend said he could hook me up with a job. I was hired as a wrapper, meaning that I stood at a cash register wrapping the junk that people bought in newspaper for eight hours day.

Why it sucked: It was a dirty, old school, assembly line-type job. The pay sucked, the tourists sucked, and there was always a touch of racism in the air. Not to mention the above description. I stood there wrapping useless merchandise in newspaper for eight hours a day!!

What didn't suck: I seem to remember some late 20-something/early 30-something chick having the hots for me, (I was 18 at the time). She was rednecky, but still pretty hot in a dirty girl-kinda way. I always enjoyed her flirtations. That's about the only redeeming thing I took from that job.

Tastykake Inc., a warehouse in the middle of nowhere in Newport News, Va.

Nothing about this job sucked, which is why I held onto it for six years. I worked by myself in the middle of the night. The pay was awesome. It was an easy night job to an ever-changing slew of day jobs. I could crank music as loud as I wanted, Space out and daydream all I wanted, (see a recurring pattern in my life yet?) And last, but certainly not least, all my friends who lived nearby could come over, drink beer, and skate. This was the birthing of the "TastySkate Nation," (we were legends in our own minds, and all we needed was one another). That place was fantastic...

Little Caesars Pizza, Williamsburg, Va.

I was a delivery driver. They paid us the federal wage for mileage reimbursement, which means I made great money.

Why it sucked: I have never worked with so many freaks of nature before in my life. My boss was a short, spiky-haired lesbian who was madly in love with our supervisor, whom apparently had gotten drunk and made out with her one night and then proceeded to treat the incident as if it never happened, thus leaving my boss, (the short spiky-haired lesbian), heartbroken and angry at the world and absolutely intolerable. Here was an actual conversation between Erik and the short spiky-haired lesbian, (SSL):

(Erik arrives at Little Caesars, clocks in, looks at delivery tickets)

SSL: "YOU'RE LATE!!!"

E: "Uh, I'm five minutes early (???)"

SSL: "DON'T GIVE ME ANY EXCUSES! I'LL REPLACE YOU IN A HEARTBEAT!!"

(Erik stews the rest of the evening)

There were more crazies there too. I think I've blocked out a lot of specific incidents, but I do remember this jackass named Roger who had a big gut and a kickin' mullet who was always bragging about how much coke he used to do in high school and how hard he "gave it" to his girlfriend every night, (his girlfriend was a shy homely girl named Tammy, who also worked with all of us).

There was also a woman named Martha, who had gastrointestinal bypass surgery, but had regained all of her weight from eating pizza. What's even worse is that as a result of her surgery, combined with her excessive eating, she could not control her flagellance and was prone to crapping her pants on the job, (in front of her work mates, mind you). Not to mention she wasn't nice at all.

And then there was Wayne, a monster-sized teenager from some backwoods part of Tennessee with an accent so strong I could never understand what the hell he was saying. But I always heard him loud and clear when he'd say, "Fuuuck you!! You long-haired FAGGOT!!!! I'M GONNA KICK YOR AAAASS!!!!" I think Wayne ended up joining the army. I sometimes wonder if he ever got nerve gassed in Iraq.

What didn't suck: With the money I made during the time I spent in that hellhole, I was able to buy a car, pay my way through community college, (for a second time), bring up my GPA and transfer to a four year university, and also travel to Canada, Europe, the West Coast, and take a cool road trip down through the southeast. I also bought all the guitar equipment that I ever needed. I still have the '57 Fender Stratocaster reissue that I bought back then.

Virginia Commonwealth University, James Branch Cabell Undergraduate Library, Richmond, Virginia

This job did not suck at all. Actually, it was just the opposite. This was the first job in my life where I discovered a tangible occupation that could bring me joy. It was the first time I felt like I could work some place and feel like I was doing something to help others while also helping myself. I liked working for the library so much that 10 years later, (after I got all of the rock and roll touring musician stuff out of my system), I decided to make a career out of it, (as most of you know, I'm currently employed with Wake County Library system here in Raleigh). Everyone finds something that's right for them. This is right for me.

First Show - The Suburban Sweethearts

2007-12-26T08:54:00.000-08:00

This is my new band, the Suburban Sweethearts:

Back in like March or so my good friend Joel and I, who I've mentioned several times in other passages here, got together to start playing again. We originally were wanting to play some power pop stuff, kinda in the late '70s/early '80s Cheap Trick, Plimsouls-type manner. The band at that time was called the Museum. However, as much we originally tried not to, we eventually started rocking, and all that power pop stuff was out the door. Feeling that the name, the Museum, no longer worked for us, we changed it to the Silver Arrows, (before realizing that name has already been used several times by other bands), and then the Instant Pleasures, (after the Simply Saucer song).

Around this time we started playing with Lucius Cyruss, who I had met when he was playing in the Greatest Hits. Lucius is currently playing guitar w/ Sir Arthur and the Knights, who totally rock... He's a great guy and fit with Joel and I like a glove. We rocked as a three piece for a little while before deciding that we should add another guitarist to the mix. This was when Joe Yerry came into the picture. He's the guitarist for the Bleeding Hearts, and is the guy responsible for all the great music that comes in and out of Slim's Downtown Distillery these days. Joe's guitar playing fit nicely with the rest of us, and we all got along great from the get-go. Before we knew it, we had a nice little rock group on our hands. Joe suggested the name, the Suburban Sweethearts, which we all dug, then set us up with a perfect first show down at Slims.

Here's some footage of the Suburban Sweethearts' first gig, from when we opened for the Loners the other night. It includes our first three songs from the set, "Time Bomb," "Stay Where You Are," and "Found Another Reason."

Big thanks to Karen Mann, who despite having to work at 4:30 AM the following morning, hung out for the entire performance and filmed this segment... I had a blast that night...

Sad News I Heard a Little Too Late

2007-12-07T12:14:00.000-08:00

Lance passed away on Sunday, October 21, 2007, due to complications from kidney disease. He was much-loved, and his friends and family planned memorials in San Francisco, California, and Austin, Texas, the details of which are posted below.

Please share your rememberances of Lance at lancehahn.blogspot.com, and share your photos at the Lance Hahn flickr group, or submit them to memorial@lancehahn.org.
San Francisco Memorial: November 11, 2007

Friends of Lance in San Francisco gathered at the Hemlock Tavern from 6 PM - midnight in the music room.
Austin Memorial: November 18, 2007

The Austin Memorial tooko place from 4–8 PM on Sunday, November 18, at The Mohawk, 912 Red River.

Both memorials were loving events packed with people missing and remembering Lance. Many great Lance stories were told, laughs shared, tears cried. Old friends, new friends, family, co-workers, and fans all came together to celebrate Lance. The events were beautiful, sad, wonderful gatherings ... testaments to the amazing human being that was Lance Hahn. We hope he would've had a blast at them.

Summer's Gone, That's All For Everyone...

2007-09-26T19:50:00.000-07:00

During the earlier part of the summer this blog was such a labor of love. For the latter, it was just labor. I guess I'm truly getting old. When I was younger, the summertime was everything to me. It was three glorious months of freedom. I generally worked during my summers, but as far as I was concerned, any job was better than school.

I can remember when I was about 17. It was the summer of 1992. I had just graduated from high school and was spending the week at the Outer Banks of North Carolina with about 10 of my friends. It was our "senior week." Man, talk about an amazing time... It was seven days of heaven. I knew I was finished with my wretched high school, I was surrounded by people I loved, and I enjoyed every moment of the sea, the sun, and the sky, (not to mention all the girls and the copious amounts of alcohol)...

However, one night around 3:00 AM I did have a pretty weird experience. I took a stroll down to the beach to shake off my nightly drinking, and being the little dreamer I was, (am), I walked down to the beach with my walkman. I just wanted to chill out, listen to Jane's Addiction, and think about the days to come, (Incidentally, Jane's Addiction was quite the soundtrack to my life then. Not just for me, they really hit the spot for a lot of my friends. I guess they just happened to hit us at the right place and time in our lives)...

Anyway, as I staggered to the beach, undoubtedly blissin' out to "Up the Beach" or "Ocean Size," these two monster football player-looking dudes walked past me. They did a quick about-face and started following me, saying all the usual things that guys like that said to guys like me back then. Well, I was definitely not in the mood to deal with anything like that, so I picked up the pace. So did they. Before I knew it I was running, and they were chasing me! Man, I couldn't believe it. I quickly darted to the first beach house that looked like people were still hanging out. It happened to belong to a set of couples in their mid to late '30s, a group of friends who got a cottage so they could surf, drink, and just enjoy the beach and get away from their jobs. I apologized for banging on their door, but I told them that I had some pretty sketchy guys chasing me. They were cool about it and invited me in for a beer. They said I could lay low for awhile.

They asked me if I was in town for senior week and if I had been partying. I said yes to both. One of the dudes asked me how old I was. I told him I was 17. I remember him smiling and shaking his head and saying, "My friend, enjoy this summer, because after this you'll only get to enjoy it one week out of the year." Haha... I heeded his advice and savored every moment of that summer... Before I left their cottage, they found out I was a guitar player and handed me an acoustic and asked me to play them a song. All I could think of playing was "Sympathy for the Devil," (which of course came to me because Jane's Addiction had done a cover of it, haha). I played it for them as they held up their beer cans and sang along. There hasn't been a summer since that I haven't thought of that incident.

So here it is, the end of the summer of 2007. I'm practically the same age as those cats who helped me out that night. So how did I spend this summer? Did I only enjoy it for one mere week just like they told me? Man, I don't know. It all goes by in such a flash these days. Most of the time I still consider myself to be that exact same kid that I was back then, but truthfully, I am just as caught up in my day-to-day as everyone else. That's not to say that I only enjoyed seven days out of the past three months. In fact, you can read my previous entries to see how much I dug the earlier half of the summer. For the rest, we'll just say it was busy... REAL busy... but I'm always one who, eventually, (after a lot of hair-yanking), ends up reflecting on the good... So here are my reflections on all of the good things I experienced this summer....

Oak Island. Robin, Kubrick, Alice, Maeby and I went down there a few times this summer. It's a peaceful little strech smack-dab between the Wilmington-area beaches and Myrtle beach. The ocean horizon faces southward. It's pretty trippy to look out at the skyline and think that somewhere off in the distance is South America, and even farther down is the South Pole and Antarctica.

We had an amazing weekend hanging out with the Lindelofs, James and Erin, and we were also reunited with my old dear friends, Blake and Lowe, who had just returned from living abroad in Mexico. I finally got to meet their little boy, Caleb.

Joel and I spent a lot of time rocking and rolling this summer, but I also got to spend a lot of time with his family. One particularly golden moment was when we introduced our pup, Maeby, to his little girl, Victoria.

Robin and I also got to spend some time in New York City. Lauren and Della let us stay with them in Brooklyn. It was definitely a high point of the summer for me. It was the first time that Robin and I got to hang in New York together and enjoy it for ourselves. I wasn't there with a band, scrambling to play a show or anything like that. Just she and I in one of the best cities of the world...

It was my first time seeing Central Park.

Or visiting the Museum of Modern Art.

Plus, we got to see Sonic Youth play their entire "Daydream Nation" record song-per-song at the McCarren Park Pool in Brooklyn. After the show we got to hang out with the band, and we spotted Chloe Svigney hanging out with Kim Gordon. Chloe was fine as hell in real life. This picture doesn't really do her justice.

The day after the Sonic Youth show, Robin and I went to Williamsburg, Brooklyn to visit my old friends, Sumitra and Duncan, and also "Mini" Matt Terrell and his lady friend, (who's name I've regretfully forgotten). We had a delicious brunch, drank Mimosas and Bloody Marys, got mega-drenched in the rain, and had an excellent time catching up with one another. Later on Robin and I went to the MOMA, grabbed some dinner at this amazing Italian restaurant in the Greenwich Village where we had a belated anniversary celebration, and then went to the Lower East Side to see Steve Shelly and listen to one of his side project bands. Steve is a wonderful man and we're lucky to know him. New York was great...

I also really enjoyed a lot of baseball this summer. I can't pretend to know all that much about it, but I had some mighty fine times seeing the Carolina Mudcats and the Durham Bulls play this year. It's definitely something I wish to indulge in a little more next season for sure...

For the end of the summer, Robin and I stayed at Oak Island oncemore, then I took a drive up the coast to visit my family at the Outer Banks. I hadn't been there in years. I had forgetten how much that place means to me. The first thing I did was drive out to Pea Island, one of my favorite spots out there. It's at the northern tip of Hatteras Island. A minor storm was coming in, and as a result, the waves crashed wildly and the clouds rolled quickly across the sky. I stood out on the beach, which I had all to myself, and listened to a lot of the Krautrock stuff I've been digging and just took it all in. The music lent itself perfectly and made me feel like I was on another planet. Regardless of the storm, it was one of the most peaceful feelings I experienced this entire summer.

I also got to spend a lot of time with my little nephew, Wyatt.

And my cousin, Carl.

As everything came to a close, I drove home listening to the "Autumn Stone" by the Small Faces, and went to straight back to work and school. It's been great, but I'm ready for some cool weather and some autumn sweaters...

Like I said, I've been extremely busy these days. Grad school has it's merits, but I'll be happy once it's over. I'll be a full-fledged librarian. Robin will be a nurse. For now, all we can really do is stay on top of it all and drink up the goodness that comes to us each day.... (Jesus, the older I get the more and more I sound like a hippy... but that's all right with me)...

On top of school and work, I'll still be moderating my book club at the library, and Joel and I's band, the Instant Pleasures, will more than likely play out sometime in the months to come. Also, you can always count on seeing me walking my three little beasts throughout Oakdale.

Hope all of you are well...

-E

Sunrise Surf/Crazy Eight Tag...

2007-07-06T04:00:00.001-07:00

I woke up early this morning, around 6:00 AM. I usually work well into the evening, so six o'clock is pretty damn early for me. I'm getting together with some friends down at the coast this weekend for some surfing. As I had stated in one of my previous blogs, I'm not much of a surfer, but I still love everything about it. James and Andy and I will be hitting some sunrise sessions down at either Kure or Wrightsville Beach for the next few days. Being that I'm usually such a workaholic between the library, the transcription writing and school, a weekend of surfing with two of my best friends will be truly golden for me...

Dan Epstein is a free lance journalist in Los Angeles. In addition to being a baseball aficionado, published author, and rock-o-logist, Dan works as the west coast editor for Revolver magazine. He and I met online through some mutual friends, but we recently have gotten to know one another a little more. We share the same love of rock and roll as well as the equal hatred of our current administration. Given those two commonalities, we often have plenty to talk about. You can learn more about Mr. Epstein by visiting his excellent blog site, La Vie En Robe. Dan tagged my blog page with the Eight Random Facts Game. These are the rules:

1.We have to post these rules before we give you the facts.
2. Players start with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
3. People who are tagged need to write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.
4. At the end of your blog post, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.
5. Don’t forget to leave them each a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.

So here you go... Eight random facts/habits about Erik Suggadelic:

FACT: As a five year old Catholic school-attendee, I once arrived at a Sunday school Halloween party dressed as Ace Frehley. I remember the other kids said, "Ewwwww!!! He's Kiss!!"

HABIT: Much to the chagrin of my wife, I often suffer from bad-song Tourettes Syndrome, (meaning that whenever I have a lousy song stuck in my head, I'll sing just one line from it over and over again).

FACT: A friend of mine and I many years ago stashed a copy of James Joyce's A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man underneath a rock near the James River with an attached note. We believed we were randomly passing the book on to someone who would be discovering it for the first time. When we checked back, it was gone, (more than likely washed away into the river).

FACT: When I was in my early '20s, I convinced an extremely confused Lou Barlow to autograph one of my T-Rex discs. I still have it.

FACT: I have played in several rock bands, each of which, at one time or another, placed some kind of emphasis on cars, racing, or driving fast, when in reality I don't know the first thing about cars.

HABIT: I'm obsessive about compiling the perfect CD mix/I-Pod mix for any road trip that I may be taking.

FACT: I once spent a month on the road with the Hollywood actress, Juliette Lewis, and her band, the Licks. That was a surreal journey that I'll more than likely chronicle in further detail at a later date.

FACT: Little kids usually love me, simply because, when it gets down to it, I myself am an overgrown child.

All right... here's the eight people I'm going to tag.

Joel L. over at Fuel Injected Rock.

Adrian Likins

Trenches Full of Poets

DD

Sean

Move Aside Rob

Lil' Lisa Marie

Mandy

Burn My Eye on the 4th of July!!

2007-07-04T09:15:00.001-07:00

Shot by Verner Reed, 1955

It's the 4th of July, the day that Americans celebrate the adoption of the Declaration of Independence, grill out, drink beer and watch fireworks. Or if you're like me and most of my friends, you're recovering from the previous night's drinking because you have the day off and you're all set to do it again...

Have I mentioned my friend Joel yet?

Taken at the Naught's first gig, Oct. '06

He and I have known one another since I was 14 and he was about 15 or 16. We met sometime in the late '80s at the Williamsburg bowling alley, a hot spot for skateboarders all across the Tidewater Peninsula. They had two amazing concrete drainage ditches, one of which was very long with a gradual transition. Carving that sucker was a dream... The other ditch was a tight, steep deal, kind of like a concrete half pipe. It looked sort of like this:

(Not the actual Williamsburg bowling alley ditch)

Joel is one of my oldest friends who I still hang with on a regular basis. Your old skate bros always end up being life-long friends. He and his wife and kids moved to Raleigh about two and a half years ago and it's been great having them here. We used to have a garage band called the Shutdowns, in which he played drums, and we're currently playing together in a group called the Silver Arrows. On top of being an ace rock drummer, Joel also moderates a website called Fuel Injected Rock, a site dedicated to his photography, his love of racing, and of course, rock and roll. I'm going to be vain and show a picture that he took of me a few years ago when I was playing with the Cherry Valence:

Sleazefest, 2005

So anyway, in a little while Robin and I are going to Joel's house for some festive grilling out, but I wanted to mention that the other night Joel and I went to see Radio Birdman play at the Cat's Cradle, and they put on an unbelievable performance. I use the word "unbelievable" because I was very skeptical of just how hard they were still capable of rocking. In the past 10 years or so I've had the extreme satisfaction of seeing lot of my favorite bands perform, bands that I never thought I'd have the chance to see, everyone from Kiss, to the Stooges, the MC5, Blue Cheer, Big Star, the Chocolate Watchband, and the Pretty Things. For the most part, I loved every one of them, but I always kind of graded them on the "old dudes reuniting" grading scale. In the case of Radio Birdman, that grading curve was highly unnecessary. They were absolutely phenomenal.

Joel took some great photos of the band here. I was amazed at how gracefully Deniz Tek has aged. I suppose those non-rock and roll years he spent working as a doctor taught him a thing or two about healthy living. Rob Younger, however, looked like the crypt keeper. Not that that really mattered in the slightest, because that dude is still an incredible performer. He shook his slinky frame all around the stage, undulating his wiry Iggy-esque moves in perfect rhythmic-convulsions to the music. He didn't look like an old guy trying to recapture his rock and roll glory of the '70s, because he obviously never lost it. You can see Rob's moves in this footage of Burn My Eye that Joel shot. The sound quality isn't all that hot, but it's a great visual of a great performer.

My only complaints of the evening were the absence of keyboardist, Pip Hoyle, (who apparently had to split the tour due to a family emergency), and the band's botching of "Do the Pop," one of my favorite songs of theirs. Rob did the "No! No! No!" vocal intro, but the drummer missed the cue. They just moved on to the next tune in the set. But overall, they were extremely powerful and played an incredibly rockin' set, and basically, plain and simply, blew the roof away. Thank you, Radio Birdman...

Stones of the Sky

2007-06-22T23:17:00.000-07:00

Sorry for being pretentious and cheesy with the Pablo Neruda title for this post. I'm currently working on the follow up to a poetry newsletter I started writing for the Wake County libraries. Katie Knight, a very talented and eloquent librarian who works for WCPL's Cary branch, came up with the brilliant idea of writing our next poetry issue in honor of great poets whose work has been translated into multiple languages. If you live in the Raleigh area you can expect to see it soon, (that is, when I finally finish my segment of the newsletter)... At any rate, Stones of the Sky is a beautiful collection. The version I have is translated by James Nolan. If you dig poetry, I would suggest checking it out.

Anyway... First off, I want to thank Dan and Jerry for their jazz suggestions. I've been diggin' the hell out of some Grant Green and Mingus' A Modern Jazz Symposium of Music and Poetry.

Other enjoyable/rant-able things as of late, include:

Kontroll

Shot at 1969-12-31
This Hungarian-made film was pretty damn silly, but I loved it. The entire movie took place in a Budapest subway where a bunch of blue collar tough-guy schmucks work for the underground rail system as ticket-takers. Basically, their job is to intimidate passengers into paying for their subway rides, (which, of course, no one takes seriously--they often get teased and taunted, and are basically given the Monty Python "chair inspector" treatment). But what's cool is that the Kontroll workers form their own secret society. They fight rival subway ticket-takers and even help stop a serial killer who compulsively pushes people to their deaths in front of oncoming trains. Does it sound ridiculous? Well, it kind of is.... Did you ever see that silly-ass '80s move, Streets of Fire?

If so, it goes without saying that these films are pretty similar, (imaginary "underground" societies, Warriors-type gangs, etc).... BUT I find myself grading Kontroll on a curve, simply because it's a foreign film, (you can blame me later for falling into that classic cinephile trap). Also, Kontroll has a lot of deep, entertaining characters, whereas Streets of Fire gives you Willem Defoe in leather overalls, an ultra-annoying Rick Moranis, and that "I Can Dream About You" song, (which actually isn't all that bad of a tune until the honky-sax kicks in).

Sopranos Finale

It was a cop out, plain and simple. As far as I'm concerned, you can keep all of your "ambiguous ending" theories, and I couldn't care less how Joycian the critics think the ending was. It's entertainment, not an English class. The Sopranos was an important show in the grand scheme of television history. It raised the bar, hands down. The dynamics of television and television writing changed as a result of this show. Not to mention the show's overall effect on pop culture. I never thought I would ever hear my whitebread mom saying things like, "I can't believe he got whacked!!" Fans of the Sopranos have been loyal since day one of its airing. They deserved something more than what they got.

I can remember when the Sopranos first aired. I was living in this field mouse-infested loft apartment out in the country in Williamsburg, Va. I was a 22 year old, hypersensitive musician holding down two jobs, playing in a band and attending community college. I lived what I perceived to be a pretty ascetic lifestyle, (basically meaning that I didn't watch TV, was ignorant to pop culture, and spent all of my time reading, doing school work, and writing music--but I was nowhere near as productive as I would like to think I was). I visited my parents one night and started flipping through their channels. It was then when I caught a glimpse of the first Sopranos episode. I was so blown away that I had my parents give me one of their old televisions, and I got a cheap VCR from a local thrift store. From then on out I had my folks tape every episode for me so I could watch them at home. They continued to do that for me even when I moved to Richmond. Soon enough, I was passing that tape around to all my friends, getting them hooked as well...

As I watched that final Sopranos episode, I hearkened back to the person I was 10 years ago. An entire universe of change has occurred since that period of my life. Back then I never saw myself as a married world-traveled musician with two college degrees, (well, one and counting). I was such a little sadsack that I never would have imagined that things would have turned out so well for me. It was a peaceful, tender feeling to witness the final moments of this show that's been a part of my life for years and to think of the evolution of Erik from 22 to 32. And then everything went black...

Today, after I cut the grass and go into the library for a few hours, Robin and I are driving to Williamsburg to visit my parents and celebrate my little nephew's first birthday. Wyatt is such a beautiful boy.

Hope everyone else has a good weekend.

Oh, by the way. I went surfing again recently and caught some nice rides on James' longboard. It was a rough, windy day, and I got pretty pummeled, but it was a blast nevertheless. James suggested a good book about surfing where I could learn more about waves, exercises, and techniques. I just recently got a copy through Interlibrary Loan.

I am not the slightest bit ashamed.

Top Five Jazz Records for a Jazz Poseur

2007-06-07T20:12:00.000-07:00

Eric Dolphy's Out To Lunch record has been blowing my mind lately. It's the sound of a brilliant five-piece band playing some frantic, groovy avant-jazz while still maintaining a sense of melodic, chordal improvisation. It has those mindbending off-the-hook moments of ecstasy, (the kind of thing that speed freak poets like Ginsberg and Kerouac swore by back in the pre-rock and roll days), but it also has moments of simple sweetness where you can just turn off your mind, relax and let the melody take you where it will. However, like most jazz during the 1950s and '60s, you simply cannot rest on your laurels when you listen to it. Just when you feel yourself getting locked into those relaxing moments, you'll be hit with a quick blast of free-improvisation where all of the musicians tighten their pace and kick it into an exuberant overdrive. Out to Lunch was recorded on February 25th, 1964, the same year the Beatles were on a quest for world domination, (in which they more or less succeeded). Sadly, Eric Dolphy died in Berlin a mere four months after this recording. Even sadder, I'm just now discovering the guy. Why? Because, I'm a Johnny-come-lately, not only to Eric Dolphy, but to a lot of other great jazz artists...

If you look through Robin and I's vinyl collection you'll see the "right" jazz records in there, things like "Bitches Brew" or "Monk's Dream," but I am no way whatsoever a jazz aficionado. In fact, I'm sure any jazz purist would look through my record collection and be quick to write me off as a poseur, as one who's trying to keep up the appearance of being down with the right records, but in reality, doesn't know a damn thing about jazz. This assumption, as much as I hate to admit it, wouldn't be too far off base, but it's not entirely true. I may only be acquainted with the "greatest hits" of jazz, but that's simply because I did not grow up on this music and have yet to dig very deeply. Every jazz record that I own found it's way into my collection haphazardly. I can't remember when it started, or what my first jazz acquisition may have been, but throughout the years each recording would slowly open itself to another, until eventually I had a relatively decent number of jazz records, and even more importantly, I would find myself genuinely digging the music, not just owning the records for the sake of owning them. Still, I have a lot to learn, but that's all right. When you're a music geek like me, there's nothing in the world like discovering a whole new genre of music....

So on that note, here's the Top Five Jazz Records for a Jazz Poseur, (aka, me):

1) Sun Song - Sun Ra

This record is pre-noise freakout Sun Ra, but I think it's phenomenal. Everyone from the Velvet Underground to The MC5 to Sonic Youth has heralded Sun Ra as one of the greatest. Sun Song is chock full of great riffin' and is generally considered his most accessible album ever.

2) Ah Um - Charles Mingus

Most jazz enthusiasts would probably scoff at this choice, simply because The Black Saint and The Sinner Lady is generally considered, not only Mingus' finest effort, but one of the greatest jazz albums of all time. However, out of all of the four Mingus records that I own, Ah Um is the one that find I myself spinning the most. It has soulful gospel-stomp moments, but never loses a moment of those sweet fretless bass grooves that made Mingus a legend.

3) Live Evil - Miles Davis

I first heard this record sometime during my late teenager years. I was hanging out with some friends one night and one of them put this on. The music sounded so freakishly new and different to me, that it was almost scary sounding. Even to this day I think it's a pretty freaky sounding record, very aptly named. Also, it features a young John McLaughlin playing some of the most incredible guitar playing this side of Hendrix... (actually, some would go as far as to say that McLaughlin smokes Hendrix on this record. Bold statement, but not necessarily one I would agree with)...

4) Jazz Impressions of Japan - Dave Brubeck

Dave Brubeck released this album many years after his initial rocket to stardom. The album features his masterful piano playing, which in this case borders closely on Martin Denny's exotica-type sound, but it still manages to be a fantastic jazz record. All of the musical sketches are strongly influenced by Japanese folk melodies. Given the classic Brubeck touch, along with the exotica/eastern cultural twist, this is an amazingly unique record and vastly enjoyable.

5) Free Jazz - Ornette Coleman

To me, this record is the sound of a nervous breakdown. The edition that I own is two tracks, one clocking in at 37 minutes, the other close to 20. "Frantic" is the only word I can use to describe the madness that takes place during this session. The entire rhythm section plays the same pulsing beat at once, and the horns shoot in and out of one another with all of the musicians pushing and blasting each other's individual phrasings to emphasize the "freedom" of the overall sound itself. I can't listen to this all the time, but whenever I do, it's nothing short of a mind-blowing experience...

Friends, Surfing, and the Perfect Pop Song

2007-06-05T21:15:00.000-07:00

Thanks to all of you for being so responsive to my brand-spanking new blog, (granted I was the attention-starved sap who brought it to everyone's attention), but nonetheless, it's very cool for all of you stop by...

Tonight Robin and I drove into Cary to see our old friends Jessica and Andy and their little girl, Maxine. Maxine is growing like a weed and stealing my heart more and more with each visit. I read her Elmo book to her about three times before she got bored and chose to wrestle rather than read. After Andy put Maxine to bed, we all sat around, ate pizza, ranted about politics, and just had a good 'ole time. Parenthood, jobby-jobs, and the school thing has kept us all from hanging together on a regular basis, so it was great to spend just a small chunk of time with such good friends.

Andy grew up in Wilmington, NC. He's been in Raleigh since the early '90s, but lately he's been missing the beach. Who could blame him? I've never officially lived on the ocean, but have been in a rather close proximity with it my whole life. I've always considered myself a beach kid. In Virginia, you were either a NoVa kid, (Northern Virginia), a Richmonder, a mountain kid, or a beach kid. I've always loved everything about it, everything from the sun, the sand, the waves, the girls... even all the kitschy beach-town fluff that comes with any coastal area.

Andy recently bought a new surfboard. He hasn't surfed much since leaving Wilmington, but is wanting to get back in the swing of it. This is something I want as well. My best friend, James, currently lives down on the coast and surfs every chance he gets. As for myself, I'd like to be a semi-capable surfer before I die. I've done it before, but my surfing history is very sporadic. Basically, throughout the years I've attempted it, but never honed any particular skills, (Hell, who am I kidding? I plain and simply suck, but I really dig paddling out and entertaining the notion of being a surfer).

My father was a '60s soul surfer and a former shaper for WRV in Virginia Beach. Once he learned how to shape the boards himself, he started a fledgling company called Fluid Dawn. I actually own the last Fluid Dawn board that he created. I must admit that it's not the most useful surfboard in this day and age, but it still floats, and there's a little piece of priceless family history with that board. My dad made it in the mid '70s; a design that he copped from the latest Gerry Lopez model. At the time my mother was pregnant with my younger sister, Erin, but she had no idea that she was pregnant with a girl. To commemorate the board, dad inscribed all of our names onto the tail of the board: Terry, Charlotte, Erik, Baby...

Tonight Andy introduced me to the surf film, Sprout. It was a very beautiful movie, very calm and meditative, which is exactly what I love so much about surfing. Sprout was filmed all around the world, everywhere from Ceylon, to Morocco, Mexico, Costa Rica, the East Indies, Hawaii, South Africa, Australia, New Zealand and California. It also had a great indie-rock soundtrack, but the music was definitely on the more mellow end of the spectrum, (a welcome change from the usual aggro-surf film tuneage). It featured Sam Prekop, Tortoise, Mojave 3, Calexico, Hope Sandoval and the Warm Inventions, and many other great bands. This movie made me, more than ever, want to hop on a longboard, paddle out, find the perfect ride, and catch a nice wave slide into the shore. I don't have any concern with shredding or anything of that nature, just a nice smooth ride...

The Only Ones - "Another Girl, Another Planet"

Ever think you've ever heard the perfect pop song? Do you ever change your mind once you think you have? Do you sometimes listen to a song like "I Want to Hold Your Hand" and it's like you're hearing it for the first time? For me, I think I have a new favorite pop song every few days. It's all a matter of what happens to strike you at the time, how you're feeling, and how infectious the song truly is. Maybe it's the melody, maybe it's the lyrics. Regardless, you just know. When you hear what, in your current state of mind, happens to be the perfect pop song, you get this easy feeling of elation. Just a simple, satisfying state of being. Tonight, for me, it's "Another Girl, Another Planet" by the Only Ones. Give it a listen here.

Right now I'm finishing a tasty glass of Zin. Kubrick is sleeping near my feet. Robin is asleep in the other room. Maeby is undoubtedly snuggling with Robin. Alice is undoubtedly hiding under the bed. I see lightning flashing outside. Maybe I'll fall asleep to the rain tonight.

Erik

Frugal Traveling, Sweet Mangos, and Dungen

2007-06-04T22:00:00.001-07:00

Spring is here, the sun is out, I'm currently digging a sweet juicy mango, (courtesy of Durham's Latin American farmers market), along with an apple, toast & coffee for breakfast. Robin and I just celebrated our three year wedding anniversary. At this time three years ago we were on a plane headed for Mexico about to have the time of our lives. We'll be spending this weekend at Oak Island. It ain't Mexico, but it still rules... All of our dogs will be coming with us. It will be Maeby's first time at the beach. We can't wait to see how she reacts to it, (Kubrick and Alice could care less. They're more concerned with pissing on the sea oats)...

This past weekend was an incredible time as well. An old high school friend of mine, Matt, came into town. If you've ever read the Frugal Traveler column for the New York Times, that's him. Matt's currently embarking on a cross-country road trip for the Times' travel blog. In keeping with his theme, he must truly remain frugal, meaning he can't spend more than $40.00 a day on food and drinks and stuff, and he also cannot travel by interstate, only small highways and back roads.

I took Matt to the Rebus Works to see the Loners, (which is where my current photo was taken). Afterwards he and I, Robin, Annie, and Holly all had a delicious Argentinian dinner at the Oakwood Cafe then headed to Chapel Hill to see the Rosebuds, (actually, after we got lost taking some windy-ass back roads to Chapel Hill, Matt just dropped me off and headed to Durham to go document Chino Latino, which is a Mexican drag bar... He wanted culture, he got it)....

I spent most of Sunday and Monday helping Matt take pictures of various Durham landmarks like Bulls Stadium, the tobacco district, and the Duke University chapel. Shortly afterwards we crashed Duke's employee appreciation day and scored some free food, drinks, and ice cream whilst listening to this sub-par jazz band performing "Girl From Ipanema," (Hey, it was frugal)... Monday night after Matt and I went out for some drinks, he said he wanted to spend the night somewhere in his car. I asked him why the hell he'd do that when he could just stay with us. His reply was, "For the experience." So, he parked his car in the church parking lot behind our house and had a good night's sleep. The next morning he came over to our house, showered, had breakfast with Robin and I, and then headed out for his next destination...

My soundtrack for the past week or so has been "Tio Bitar", the new record by Dungen, one of the best Swedish bands since The Soundtrack of Our Lives, (I'm probably pissing off a lot of Hellacopters fans with that sentiment). I love Dungen. They have become one of those bands who can do no wrong in my eyes... Hendrix-y riffage, beautiful Beatles-esque harmonies, layered organ and piano parts, Ian Anderson-ish flute melodies, and some of the best psychedelic echo-washed guitar playing since Swervedriver's earlier releases back in the day... My friend Joel thinks that "Ta Det Lugnt" is a far superior record. I feel that, if anything, "Ta Det Lugnt" is more of an epic, whereas "Tio Bitar" is just a quick blast of what Dungen is all about...

Speaking of "Ta Det Lugnt", I recently made a copy of that disc for my Swedish pal, Emil, who had never heard Dungen before, (Emil works with me at the library. He plain and simply rules). Emil really enjoyed the album, and much to my extreme satisfaction, translated all the song titles for me!! For all you other non-Swedish speaking Dungen fans, here they are:

1. Panda - Literally means, "Panda", which is a girl, about 18-25, with short hair and heavy mascara
2. Gjort Bort Sig - "Made a Fool of Me"
3. Festival - "Festival", (big surprise there)...
4. Du Är För Fin För Mig - "You're Too Pretty for Me"
5. Ta Det Lugnt - "Take it Easy"
6. Det Du Tänker Idag Är Du I Morgon - "What You Think Today, You Are Tomorrow"
7. Lejonet & Kulan - "The Lion & The Bullet"
8. Bortglömd - "Forgotten"
9. Glömd Konst Kommer Stundom Änyo Till Heders - "Art Forgotten Eventually Comes"
10. Lipsill - "Crybaby"
11. Om Du Vore en Vakthund - "If You Were a Watchdog"
12. Tack Ska Ni Ha - "Thank You" or, "Thanks Shall You Have"
13. Sluta Följa Efter - "Quit Following"
14. Tyst Minut - "Silent Minute"
15. Jämna Plågor - "Even Pains", (it's like saying, "Hangin' in There" or "Not Too Bad", etc.)
16. Sjutton - "Damn" ("Seventeen" - I don't quite get this one)
17. Christopher - "Christopher", (another big surprise)...
18. Badsäng - "Bath-Bed", ("Bad" = Bath, "Sang" = Bed. According to Emil, "Badsang" sounds like "Bassang", which means swimming pool, and "Ang" = Meadow).

That's all for now folks. Everybody dig the spring time and bust out your favorite records...

Love,

Erik

Latest Coolness, Stormy Friday

2007-06-04T21:39:00.000-07:00

YES!! Like Dan Epstein said, if only for the fact that this song begins with, "THIS SONG IS DEDICATED TO THE MC5!! AND IT'S CALLED, IT'S A RIOT!!!," it would plain and simply rule, but the coolness factor doesn't stop there. This tune is an incredible dose of snotty mid '70s catchy punk rock and roll. Imagine a tougher sounding Cheap Trick. This rocker would fit nicely along side groups like the Real Kids, the Nerves, or the Flaming Groovies, but if any of those groups had written this song, it would easily have been the best thing that any of them have ever done. Apparently Ian was only 16 when this song came out! I only wish he wasn't so obscure, because I want more!

Grinderman, (Nick Cave's latest thing)

I have been a Nick Cave fan for awhile now, but I must admit that in recent years he's gotten a little dull to me. However, he recently unveiled Grinderman, a project that taps into the wildman rock and roll savagery that made Cave a legend back in his Birthday Party days. My god... I love it. Songs like "No Pussy Blues," and "Depth Charge Ethyl" are the best songs the Stooges never wrote. Like I recently told some friends, it's pretty sad that Nick Cave, who was always strongly influenced by Iggy Pop, is now writing better Stooges songs than the Stooges themselves. Grinderman still has plenty of the Bad Seeds' death-toll drudgery that I dig, but the rockers on this really rock...

This movie is godlike. I can't even believe how good it is. Children of Men absolutely smears all those other ridiculous post apocalyptic sci-fi films. This movie is a realistically dark portrayal of contemporary society and the xenophobia every country around the globe seems to be experiencing. The results? Mankind has lost the ability to reproduce, every city has become a crumbling wasteland, every citizen fears and hates immigrants and immigration, and all hope is gone, everywhere. The government even provides suicide pills for all who wish to take them. The English Major geek in me couldn't help hearkening back to T.S. Eliot's anti-Ecclesiastic vision:

"Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man,
You cannot say, or guess, for you know only
A Heap of broken images, where the sun beats,
And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,
And the dry stone no sound of water...
... I will show you fear in a handful of dust."

Haruki Murakami - "South of the Border, West of the Sun"

Ten years ago, when I was still living in Tidewater, Virginia attending community college, an English teacher of mine had me read a short story of Murakami's called, "TV People." That was a long time ago and I don't remember a whole lot about the story, but I remember thinking it was amazing. I asked her more about Murakami and she told me that he was basically as big in Japan as the Beatles once were all the world over. He gained a lot of influence from Western writers and fused that influence with his Japanese upbringing. After fine-tuning his writing craft and gaining some recognition, he then challenged the success-o-phobic pressure that modern day capitalist Japan forces on it's young. Murakami apparently has a vigorous disdain for Japanese society, to the point of denouncing his success within his home country and choosing to live stateside, (he spent a few years as an instructor at Princeton University).

Sometime late last year, I read "Kafka on the Shore," which blew me away. It was a sexy, surreal, metaphysical mystery that had me captivated with every sentence. Murakami's writing style focuses on very introspective narration, and for whatever reason, I really identify with this. He has become one of those writers where I feel like his words and thoughts match my own. Music is a huge part of his writing, (Murakami himself owned several jazz bars in Tokyo). He has the ability to illustrate the tangible, emotional impact of every note of music, as well as the complexity of human emotions concerning love, sex, desire, and loss.

The book that I'm currently reading, "South of the Border, West of the Sun," is easily one of the best books I think I've ever read. The main character, Hajime, is a successful, albeit regretful man, who examines his past, his present, and his future, and he lives in a constant state of confusion, often wondering if he's made the right choices concerning his marriage, his career, and his life in general. When Hajime is revisited by Shimamoto, an old pre-teenage girlfriend, he is overjoyed, but confused to the point of sickness.

In one amazing scene from the book, Shimamoto visits Hajime at the jazz bar he owns. They sit and share a drink as the musicians play Ellington's "Star-Crossed Lovers." Hajime is really struck by the overall experience, and lets the music take him over and transport him to another place in time:

"It wasn't one of Ellington's best-known tunes, and I had no particular memories associated
with it; just happened to hear it once, and it struck some chord within me. From college to
those bleak textbook-company years, come evening I'd listen to the "Such Sweet Thunder"
album, the "Star-Crossed Lovers" track over and over. Johnny Hodges had this sensitive
and elegant solo on it. Whenever I heard that languid, beautiful melody, those days came
back to me. It wasn't what I'd characterize as a happy part of my life, living as I was, a
balled-up mass of unfulfilled desires. I was much younger, much hungrier, much more alone.
But I was myself, pared down to the essentials. I could feel each single note of music, each
line I read, seep down deep inside me. My nerves were sharp as a blade, my eyes shining
with a piercing light. And every time I heard that music, I recalled my eyes then, glaring
back at me from a mirror."

I think that's one of my favorite passages I've read of his thus far...

Anyway, I think the lightning storm as stopped. I need to clean my house and walk my dogs. Hope all is well with the rest of you.