a squirrel gets used to going every week to the same place under the same tree. squirrel knows a beautiful bird that comes to the same branch every week at the same time. beautiful bird does something to the leaf at the end of a very thin branch. with small fresh nut dangling from it. squirrel often tried to get the fresh nut himself, but, the branch is so thin it bends and drops squirrel before he can reach it. so, he waits patiently for beautiful bird to drop him the freshest of nuts. it was as though squirrel was in love with the partnership. squirrel was. and beautiful bird was too. she enjoyed the expression on squirrels face when he bit into the fresh nut.
well, after a couple of seasons of the same thing. beautiful bird decides to throw the nut, not onto the forest floor like before, but onto squirrels head. it hurt his head alot. but, he didnt seem to mind. as long as got his fresh nut. 10 years of getting hit on the head with a fresh nut. 10 years of pleading to beautiful bird to let the fresh nut drop onto the forest ground. 10 years a lump on the head. yet, the nut is so fresh.
squirrel comes again and again to the same tree. with the same bird. the same love. the same torture. each time in preparation for the drop. squirrel would look up on hind legs, head back, eyes closed. breathing in thru his little squirrel nose. out his mouth, passing thru the storage cheeks giving breath of not so fresh nuts. eyes rolling back in calm kneeling position. arms apart extended toward the sky. embracing the anticipation. sure squirrel has other things to do. but waiting, and patience, and tolerance become the love.
knock. another on the head. another plea. other things to do.
then, there is the washing machine...old style. a large bucket of castille soap water with a wash board for agitation. and the vertical stacked pinch rollers. that pinch the water out of cloth...then hang them out to dry. the clothes. to dry in the mid day sun and breezes. down wind blows the smell of castille smelling like a particularly delicious salad dressing for a good nut.
when the lady drains the dirty laundry water. then saves the freshest water and soap for the most delicate of night gowns. sir squirrel lick his lips, but inavertantly, his toungue gets caught in the pinch roller. which squeezes the sqirrel tongue thru creating an engorged yet flat and 2 dimensional beginning of a nutty digestive track.
squirrel would look up on hind legs, head back, eyes closed. breathing in thru his little squirrel nose. out his mouth, passing thru the storage cheeks giving breath of not so fresh nuts. eyes rolling back in calm kneeling position. arms apart extended toward the sky. embracing the anticipation. sure squirrel has other things to do. but waiting, and patience, and tolerance become the love.
knock. another on the head. another plea. other things to do.
during the annual migration over the gulf of mexico, beautiful bird lands on a ship. with cult like precision, the cast of the ship are making a reenactment of a ship of slave rowing huge oars, and being whipped by one huge hooded brute. its hard for beautiful bird to see who is enjoying their roles more. one big whipper or many wimpy whippees. beautiful bird landed on the big whippers shoulder and whispered sweet nothings in his ear. then the other ear. then the whiney wimpey whippees. in both ears. now, beautiful bird knows who is enjoying their roles more.
beautiful bird and the entire ship of wierdos, would look up with chest out, head back, eyes closed. breathing in thru his little bird nose. out his beak, passing thru the beak giving breath of not so fresh seeds. eyes rolling back in calm kneeling position. wings apart extended toward the sky. embracing the anticipation. sure the ship mates and bird have other things to do. but waiting, and patience, and tolerance become the love.
7/22/08
5/18/08
george w. bush signed my voluptuous man boob
george w. bush signed my voluptuous man boob!
he was hugging a woman's baby in front of me. he spiked the baby on the ground and whispered to himself, "hell yeah i'll sign that hairy melon!." he rushed over to see IF my exposure towards him was for what he was thinking. it was.
i offered a sharpie. he parryed and countered with his own. can you believe i had a mock sharpie sword fight with the president of the united states!? he then groped me for perfect stillness while he painted my chest with his john han....
wait a minute.
this is ridiculous.
why would you read something that seems detestable from the get go of the title.
this may turn into a rant about sensasionalism.
he was hugging a woman's baby in front of me. he spiked the baby on the ground and whispered to himself, "hell yeah i'll sign that hairy melon!." he rushed over to see IF my exposure towards him was for what he was thinking. it was.
i offered a sharpie. he parryed and countered with his own. can you believe i had a mock sharpie sword fight with the president of the united states!? he then groped me for perfect stillness while he painted my chest with his john han....
wait a minute.
this is ridiculous.
why would you read something that seems detestable from the get go of the title.
this may turn into a rant about sensasionalism.
4/25/08
part II of why jambands suck
so, in my previous post, i believe i illustrated the fact that i'm a pompous ass about the music that i like...when i like it.
it seems that at one time i did like jam bands. at one time, i may have thought that the music that i like 'now' sucks. and everybody that wasn't following the grateful dead is a dumbass.
it seems that i have a graduate degree in the school of "my music is better than yours".
remember when rock and rollers burned beegee albums and wore shirts that stated 'disco sucks'
apparently, now that i think of it, that was the beginning of my 'music bigotry'.
not that i thought that 'disco sucks', shoot i even had my parents mail order for me the album 'disco duck'...ahem...i know, shut up. at the time i was torn. i liked dressing up in polyester slacks and silk shirts. going down to the nearest 'Quinceañera' and showing off my long rehearsed john travolta moves. i also at the time discovered rock and roll like kiss, foghat, queen, styx.
i was really torn.
why did i have to choose a side.
well, i did. i chose to rock out. 1977. corpus christi texas.
i cant remember exactly who i was trying to fit in with. but, they rocked. so i should too.
what is this phenomenon. this music bigotry. this 'us vs. them' thing.
in the early 80's it was country music sucks. rock still prevailed for me, but, it was that rush and yes ruled and all other rock was for pussys.
in the late 80's it was art rock like talking heads and brian eno were so cool that they eclipsed the entire rest of the history of music.
in the 90's pyschedelic music. or at least music on pyschedelics.
except for grunge. grunge sucks.
then the later 90's alt country.
then classic country.
then... i hated all music.
except the stuff that i had liked from the past.
no new music was tolerable. none.
i was always a closet jazzer. and classical was an academic hobby for me.
and i could never get enough of whatever music i happened to be playing/producing.
then i discovered the flaming lips were doing things i had tried to do at one point.
then i discovered the super furry animals were doing things i always dreamed of doing but was incapable of doing.
then the impossibilities of hella!
now. here i am not liking music that i dont love!
preposterous. how stupid to say that i hate anything.
how stupid for anyone to say that this sucks and that dont.
but it happens. what is this music bigotry.
its as though its a natural state of human beings to bigot against something.
maybe its not so much bigoting against something, as it is rallying for something.
its what i hate about sports enthusiest. which i'm not one at all, sports fans suck!
i digress.
but, why does hate happen. is it for the same reason that love happens. for every action theres a reaction. in order to have a world of love, is it that we have to have equal amounts of hate?~!
there is a point here. i'm just not clear on it yet.
next blog. maybe about music likings connected to positive associations.
the "hunny, their playing our song" theory.
vs.
the "this song is about me" theory.
it seems that at one time i did like jam bands. at one time, i may have thought that the music that i like 'now' sucks. and everybody that wasn't following the grateful dead is a dumbass.
it seems that i have a graduate degree in the school of "my music is better than yours".
remember when rock and rollers burned beegee albums and wore shirts that stated 'disco sucks'
apparently, now that i think of it, that was the beginning of my 'music bigotry'.
not that i thought that 'disco sucks', shoot i even had my parents mail order for me the album 'disco duck'...ahem...i know, shut up. at the time i was torn. i liked dressing up in polyester slacks and silk shirts. going down to the nearest 'Quinceañera' and showing off my long rehearsed john travolta moves. i also at the time discovered rock and roll like kiss, foghat, queen, styx.
i was really torn.
why did i have to choose a side.
well, i did. i chose to rock out. 1977. corpus christi texas.
i cant remember exactly who i was trying to fit in with. but, they rocked. so i should too.
what is this phenomenon. this music bigotry. this 'us vs. them' thing.
in the early 80's it was country music sucks. rock still prevailed for me, but, it was that rush and yes ruled and all other rock was for pussys.
in the late 80's it was art rock like talking heads and brian eno were so cool that they eclipsed the entire rest of the history of music.
in the 90's pyschedelic music. or at least music on pyschedelics.
except for grunge. grunge sucks.
then the later 90's alt country.
then classic country.
then... i hated all music.
except the stuff that i had liked from the past.
no new music was tolerable. none.
i was always a closet jazzer. and classical was an academic hobby for me.
and i could never get enough of whatever music i happened to be playing/producing.
then i discovered the flaming lips were doing things i had tried to do at one point.
then i discovered the super furry animals were doing things i always dreamed of doing but was incapable of doing.
then the impossibilities of hella!
now. here i am not liking music that i dont love!
preposterous. how stupid to say that i hate anything.
how stupid for anyone to say that this sucks and that dont.
but it happens. what is this music bigotry.
its as though its a natural state of human beings to bigot against something.
maybe its not so much bigoting against something, as it is rallying for something.
its what i hate about sports enthusiest. which i'm not one at all, sports fans suck!
i digress.
but, why does hate happen. is it for the same reason that love happens. for every action theres a reaction. in order to have a world of love, is it that we have to have equal amounts of hate?~!
there is a point here. i'm just not clear on it yet.
next blog. maybe about music likings connected to positive associations.
the "hunny, their playing our song" theory.
vs.
the "this song is about me" theory.
4/19/08
why i hate jambands. or why i think music sux!
gretchen asked me why i hate new monsoon so much.
the wheels started turning to what they reprehensibly represent in my minds association of facts and figures, line and form, word and intent, body and soul, status quo and the brilliance of human spirit.
whew! this one will be a doozy. make some room. step back now, i'm on a soap box.
note: these words are unnecessary. all musical efforts are beautiful. the efforts are. not necessarily the content.
that being my disclaimer, here now is my nutshell. or nuts hell.
jambands suck because they dont have a creative bone in their body. its all rehashed thisandthat. they cant write a song. because they dont know how to sculpt a sound or turn a lyrical phrase. its masturbation. its the difference between a musician (oh, i could do that) and an artist (oh, how do they do that?!).
these jamband "musicians" see a gravy train. i call them jam sheep. these are the audience of jambands. unable to think for themselves, like musical lemmings careening over a booty shaking precipice. its even a rehash of the cultural element of the disco fad. "it looks like they are having fun, so i'm having fun" theory.
what kenny g did to jazz. so goes the jamband to rock and roll. ouch! that was offensive!
i was a fan of the grateful dead. i saw over 10 show. dance'd, smile'd, hugged, and cry'd on the way, during, and reminiscing about shows. they were a jamband. they rehashed. they noodled aimlessly. they broke free of cultural atrocities. i ask myself, what was different about them? continue that thought forward. what was different about me.
i was a lemming.why was i a lemming? oh! its the good ole', "they're playing our song" theory. positive associations with even a brief encounter with not just the music, but also the culture. the scene was groovy. so much so, it didn't matter if jerry forgot the lyrics. or if he fell asleep (heroin induced) while playing a guitar solo. or if they cant sing for mud. or. or...
it was fun. thats why i liked them. and thats why people like what they do. i shouldn't have a problem with people enjoying themselves. and ultimately i dont.
but, i do remember being at grateful dead shows and thinking to myself that 'deadheads' are stupid for caring so much about every setlist, and every show, and every tape traded for maximum quality (its a cassette! jeez) and everything collected in jambase. i'm a fan of music, but, these people seemed ridiculous to me. they were just trying to one up each other to be the best deadhead.
there's other music people. come on. what i enjoyed about the dead was the music education that it took to become the dead. those musicians had to study MUSIC in order to do what they did. and lots of it. many different genres. many different bands. their music was an amalgam of what they had learned.
well, these new so called jambands. are only an amalgam of what they studied, it seems. the dead. or the other jamband with a huge audience. ie: dave mathews or phish. yuk! why cover that crap!!!!! oh, because there are millions of jamsheep with lots of money. thats why.
well, it looks like i fell off my soap box onto a high horse.
well, of course, i never really believe what i say. but!
maybe i'm jealous of these bands. playing music that seems very easy to me. they are getting paid beaucoup cash for playing music i would be embarrased to play.
i've always had a problem with what non-musicians like. eric clapton. sux. allman brothers. boring. steve vai. dumb. string cheese incident. psh.
my musical gods are people who do divinely guided and tasteful musical or composition techniques: jimi hendrix, brian wilson, chick corea, paco delucia, super furry animals, neil young, rush, yes, classical indian music, j.s. bach, conjunto accordian players, herbie hancock, gypsy violinist, kate bush, adrian belew, frank zappa, john coltrane, bernie worrell, hella, syd barrett, art tatum, stevie wonder, dj qbert, john cage, etc.... music that pushes the boundary. or music that pushes the listeners ear forward. well, my ear anyway. i dont know whats wrong with your ears!
i'm noticing that there isnt much dance music in that list. maybe i dont like dance music. thats not true. i loved the beegees saturday night fever era. and wait, conjunto and gypsy music is magically danceable. why exactly dont i like jambands?
jambands suck for me maybe because they rehashed once too many times. they are not the source of their musical inspiration. they are not breaking new ground in the history of music. they are keeping alive a 'tradition' of a particular era of music. maybe thats what i hate. tradition. tradition rehashed. like religion.
i know for a fact that i love hearing things for the first time. no matter what it is. and that is what i base my opinion on. "it's been done before. it sux." i do find myself saying that. "wow! what was that!? i've never heard that before!" i do find myself saying that too. but, the super furry animals, who happen to be my new fav's along with the flaming lips. they are rehashers. all be it, rehashing obscure musical stylings of the past. whats different about their rehashing?.... a creative way of reference. not a re-do. a refering to, to get a point across. thats why i dont think of them as rehashers.
sorry, folks.
have i made a point here? do i even understand what my problem is?!!!
it seems i'm a conceded musician. yes. it's a personal problem.
a couple of blurbs of what i hate about jambands.
its been done before.
jam sheep dont like music. they like what their friends like.
audience is too high on drugs to know any better.
jambands "hump the corpse of the grateful dead" (not my words, but, i loved the quote).
if your not a classical indian tabla player. dont perform tabla. that goes to say with any traditional instruments.
try doing something musically that your unfamiliar with. stop using your bag of licks.
let a poet write your lyrics.
masturbate musically by yourself. its called woodshedding.
play something good.
impress me.
ps. it bugs me that medeski martin and wood are lumped into the jamband catagories. those guys are very capable of stretching the limits. a real fusion of true jazz and groove.
the wheels started turning to what they reprehensibly represent in my minds association of facts and figures, line and form, word and intent, body and soul, status quo and the brilliance of human spirit.
whew! this one will be a doozy. make some room. step back now, i'm on a soap box.
note: these words are unnecessary. all musical efforts are beautiful. the efforts are. not necessarily the content.
that being my disclaimer, here now is my nutshell. or nuts hell.
jambands suck because they dont have a creative bone in their body. its all rehashed thisandthat. they cant write a song. because they dont know how to sculpt a sound or turn a lyrical phrase. its masturbation. its the difference between a musician (oh, i could do that) and an artist (oh, how do they do that?!).
these jamband "musicians" see a gravy train. i call them jam sheep. these are the audience of jambands. unable to think for themselves, like musical lemmings careening over a booty shaking precipice. its even a rehash of the cultural element of the disco fad. "it looks like they are having fun, so i'm having fun" theory.
what kenny g did to jazz. so goes the jamband to rock and roll. ouch! that was offensive!
i was a fan of the grateful dead. i saw over 10 show. dance'd, smile'd, hugged, and cry'd on the way, during, and reminiscing about shows. they were a jamband. they rehashed. they noodled aimlessly. they broke free of cultural atrocities. i ask myself, what was different about them? continue that thought forward. what was different about me.
i was a lemming.why was i a lemming? oh! its the good ole', "they're playing our song" theory. positive associations with even a brief encounter with not just the music, but also the culture. the scene was groovy. so much so, it didn't matter if jerry forgot the lyrics. or if he fell asleep (heroin induced) while playing a guitar solo. or if they cant sing for mud. or. or...
it was fun. thats why i liked them. and thats why people like what they do. i shouldn't have a problem with people enjoying themselves. and ultimately i dont.
but, i do remember being at grateful dead shows and thinking to myself that 'deadheads' are stupid for caring so much about every setlist, and every show, and every tape traded for maximum quality (its a cassette! jeez) and everything collected in jambase. i'm a fan of music, but, these people seemed ridiculous to me. they were just trying to one up each other to be the best deadhead.
there's other music people. come on. what i enjoyed about the dead was the music education that it took to become the dead. those musicians had to study MUSIC in order to do what they did. and lots of it. many different genres. many different bands. their music was an amalgam of what they had learned.
well, these new so called jambands. are only an amalgam of what they studied, it seems. the dead. or the other jamband with a huge audience. ie: dave mathews or phish. yuk! why cover that crap!!!!! oh, because there are millions of jamsheep with lots of money. thats why.
well, it looks like i fell off my soap box onto a high horse.
well, of course, i never really believe what i say. but!
maybe i'm jealous of these bands. playing music that seems very easy to me. they are getting paid beaucoup cash for playing music i would be embarrased to play.
i've always had a problem with what non-musicians like. eric clapton. sux. allman brothers. boring. steve vai. dumb. string cheese incident. psh.
my musical gods are people who do divinely guided and tasteful musical or composition techniques: jimi hendrix, brian wilson, chick corea, paco delucia, super furry animals, neil young, rush, yes, classical indian music, j.s. bach, conjunto accordian players, herbie hancock, gypsy violinist, kate bush, adrian belew, frank zappa, john coltrane, bernie worrell, hella, syd barrett, art tatum, stevie wonder, dj qbert, john cage, etc.... music that pushes the boundary. or music that pushes the listeners ear forward. well, my ear anyway. i dont know whats wrong with your ears!
i'm noticing that there isnt much dance music in that list. maybe i dont like dance music. thats not true. i loved the beegees saturday night fever era. and wait, conjunto and gypsy music is magically danceable. why exactly dont i like jambands?
jambands suck for me maybe because they rehashed once too many times. they are not the source of their musical inspiration. they are not breaking new ground in the history of music. they are keeping alive a 'tradition' of a particular era of music. maybe thats what i hate. tradition. tradition rehashed. like religion.
i know for a fact that i love hearing things for the first time. no matter what it is. and that is what i base my opinion on. "it's been done before. it sux." i do find myself saying that. "wow! what was that!? i've never heard that before!" i do find myself saying that too. but, the super furry animals, who happen to be my new fav's along with the flaming lips. they are rehashers. all be it, rehashing obscure musical stylings of the past. whats different about their rehashing?.... a creative way of reference. not a re-do. a refering to, to get a point across. thats why i dont think of them as rehashers.
sorry, folks.
have i made a point here? do i even understand what my problem is?!!!
it seems i'm a conceded musician. yes. it's a personal problem.
a couple of blurbs of what i hate about jambands.
its been done before.
jam sheep dont like music. they like what their friends like.
audience is too high on drugs to know any better.
jambands "hump the corpse of the grateful dead" (not my words, but, i loved the quote).
if your not a classical indian tabla player. dont perform tabla. that goes to say with any traditional instruments.
try doing something musically that your unfamiliar with. stop using your bag of licks.
let a poet write your lyrics.
masturbate musically by yourself. its called woodshedding.
play something good.
impress me.
ps. it bugs me that medeski martin and wood are lumped into the jamband catagories. those guys are very capable of stretching the limits. a real fusion of true jazz and groove.
3/14/08
eightit
octophonic duowop group.
8 microphones setup for 8 singers. 4 on the left. 4 on the right.
each mic has its own pa system in the audience. 4 on the left. 4 on the right.
there is enough room for the singers to move around the mic stands.
creating live motion effects in the audience area.
at times singers will move about the mics on mic stands.
other times singers will hold the mics and deliver the motion to the voice.
be it, 8 mics on one singer. 8 mics on some singers. 8 mics on all singers.
along with some mics on one singer. some mics on some singers. some mics on all singers.
along with 1 mic on one singer. 1 mic on some singers. 1 mic on all singers.
the singers holding and moving/dancing the mics from voice place to voice place.
might sound really neat.
i got a set list.
i got the gear.
i got the arrangements in my head.
i dont have the voices.
i dont have time.
8 microphones setup for 8 singers. 4 on the left. 4 on the right.
each mic has its own pa system in the audience. 4 on the left. 4 on the right.
there is enough room for the singers to move around the mic stands.
creating live motion effects in the audience area.
at times singers will move about the mics on mic stands.
other times singers will hold the mics and deliver the motion to the voice.
be it, 8 mics on one singer. 8 mics on some singers. 8 mics on all singers.
along with some mics on one singer. some mics on some singers. some mics on all singers.
along with 1 mic on one singer. 1 mic on some singers. 1 mic on all singers.
the singers holding and moving/dancing the mics from voice place to voice place.
might sound really neat.
i got a set list.
i got the gear.
i got the arrangements in my head.
i dont have the voices.
i dont have time.
2/13/08
the super furry animals have saved the world again
super heros are only in comic books my ass!
look up in the sky, its some welsh guys.
with really good taste in delivering high quality hope wrapped in the most pleasant sonic explosion this side of the 60's.
meeting up with ken, laura, james, and marva. gretchen and i spent our 12th (or third leap year) anniversay in san francisco. a trip wrapped around seeing the super furrys play at the Great American Music Hall.
thank you sfa for giving me the best show i've ever seen.
it wasnt about the light show (or lack of one), or the video screens (or lack of them), or massive american fanbase (or lack of one of those too).
i'll tell you exactly what made this my all time favorite music concert.
it was the music.
it was also the killer PA system in which to deliver the bands ultimo-sonics.
a perfect evening of excellent song writing (the best i've experienced this side of lennon/mccartney and brian wilson smeared together.)
perfect sonic execution.
everybody in the band lending their part flawlessly. kian on keys doing all the psychedelic tinking that makes me smile. guto on bass with the most round bottom and precision patience. dafyd on drums, oh so solidly, playing real kit in and around the programming. bunf with his great gibson gods bringing sonic gifts to us mortals. and gruffs sweet upside down rythmn guitar finesse. of course gruffs voice of all voices, and the tasty bax of bunf and kian.
the room itself sounding like the inside of a finely tuned stradivarius. ornate at every glance. and the line array pa system, with its absolute sonic perfection. l'acoustics V DOSC line array was and still is the best of the industry. everyone has their version of line array now. but, the v dosc is the best. loud and pure. no ear fatigue. able to carry on a conversation without the pain. yet, able to rock your nuts, band permitting. and oh were they ever rocked!
i saw the band a week before at emos in austin. the pa there was challenged, but, it was a great show never the less. but, it was no great american music hall!
its the bands whimsey that really gets me. even their serious songs are tongue in cheek. you gotta look beyond surface to find the meaning in the song. and just beyond that, the joke. sometimes a humorous joke, sometimes a satirical joke, sometimes downright a sad joke.
i'm gonna find a setlist online somewhere so i can comment on everysong...
notes:
kliph from flaming lips played scissors and scissors solo on 'torra fy ngwallt yn hir' (which gruff said the closest american pronunciation is 'terrible mountaineer').
some women sang duet with gruff on 'hello sunshine'. edit: the woman was wendy flowers of...
wendy and bonnies' song 'by the sea' is borrowed for the mello intro of 'hello sunshine'. they were sisters (13 yrs. and 17 yrs. old) from san francisco who put out one album in 1969. cool! i didnt know that!
gruff chewed giant carrot on 'recepticle for the respectable'. paul mccartney chew'd the carrot on the album. he also chew'd carrot on the beach boys smily smile.
what does the german sign mean at the ende? bleich euch ...??
kian back to audience when he plays guitar? huh?
red power ranger represents the leader of the fighters of corporate evils and monsters.
grateful deads 'one from the vault' is from gamh.
go here for this guys great photos from the LA show.
sfa on flickr here
and this guy keeps up with the furrys and all of their sideshows, more than the furrys website does here
added feb. 16
Emos : Austin, TX : Feb. 03, 2008
Slow Life
Rings Around the World
Gateway SongRun Away
Golden Retriever
Do or Die
Neo Consumer
She Got Spies
The Gift that Keeps Giving
Earth
Zoom
Receptacle for the Respectable
Juxtapose
Into the Night
Baby Ate My 8ball
Calimero
Earth II
If You Don't Want Me To Destroy You
Hello Sunshine
Man Don't Give a Fuck
Cosmic Trigger
Great American Music Hall : San Francisco, CA : Feb. 09, 2008
Slow Life - gruff sings through eyehole of red power rangers helmet.
Rings
Gateway/Runaway
Golden Retriever
Do or Die
Neo Con
Terrible mountaineer (Torra Fy Ngwallt Yn Hir) - starring kliph scurlock (drummer flaming lips) on scissors. something about "will you cut my hair long?"
Gift That Keeps Giving
Earth
Zoom
Receptacle - it was a big carrot!
Juxtapose - gruff did the 2 mike boom. one side vocoder (oh so nice) and clean voice.
Into The Night
8-Ball
Calimero
Hello Sunshine - duet with wendy flowers. a repeat of the fillmore 2002, 2004, 2005 sfa shows.
Man Don't Give
Cosmic Trigger
look up in the sky, its some welsh guys.
with really good taste in delivering high quality hope wrapped in the most pleasant sonic explosion this side of the 60's.
meeting up with ken, laura, james, and marva. gretchen and i spent our 12th (or third leap year) anniversay in san francisco. a trip wrapped around seeing the super furrys play at the Great American Music Hall.
thank you sfa for giving me the best show i've ever seen.
it wasnt about the light show (or lack of one), or the video screens (or lack of them), or massive american fanbase (or lack of one of those too).
i'll tell you exactly what made this my all time favorite music concert.
it was the music.
it was also the killer PA system in which to deliver the bands ultimo-sonics.
a perfect evening of excellent song writing (the best i've experienced this side of lennon/mccartney and brian wilson smeared together.)
perfect sonic execution.
everybody in the band lending their part flawlessly. kian on keys doing all the psychedelic tinking that makes me smile. guto on bass with the most round bottom and precision patience. dafyd on drums, oh so solidly, playing real kit in and around the programming. bunf with his great gibson gods bringing sonic gifts to us mortals. and gruffs sweet upside down rythmn guitar finesse. of course gruffs voice of all voices, and the tasty bax of bunf and kian.
the room itself sounding like the inside of a finely tuned stradivarius. ornate at every glance. and the line array pa system, with its absolute sonic perfection. l'acoustics V DOSC line array was and still is the best of the industry. everyone has their version of line array now. but, the v dosc is the best. loud and pure. no ear fatigue. able to carry on a conversation without the pain. yet, able to rock your nuts, band permitting. and oh were they ever rocked!
i saw the band a week before at emos in austin. the pa there was challenged, but, it was a great show never the less. but, it was no great american music hall!
its the bands whimsey that really gets me. even their serious songs are tongue in cheek. you gotta look beyond surface to find the meaning in the song. and just beyond that, the joke. sometimes a humorous joke, sometimes a satirical joke, sometimes downright a sad joke.
i'm gonna find a setlist online somewhere so i can comment on everysong...
notes:
kliph from flaming lips played scissors and scissors solo on 'torra fy ngwallt yn hir' (which gruff said the closest american pronunciation is 'terrible mountaineer').
some women sang duet with gruff on 'hello sunshine'. edit: the woman was wendy flowers of...
wendy and bonnies' song 'by the sea' is borrowed for the mello intro of 'hello sunshine'. they were sisters (13 yrs. and 17 yrs. old) from san francisco who put out one album in 1969. cool! i didnt know that!
gruff chewed giant carrot on 'recepticle for the respectable'. paul mccartney chew'd the carrot on the album. he also chew'd carrot on the beach boys smily smile.
what does the german sign mean at the ende? bleich euch ...??
kian back to audience when he plays guitar? huh?
red power ranger represents the leader of the fighters of corporate evils and monsters.
grateful deads 'one from the vault' is from gamh.
go here for this guys great photos from the LA show.
sfa on flickr here
and this guy keeps up with the furrys and all of their sideshows, more than the furrys website does here
added feb. 16
Emos : Austin, TX : Feb. 03, 2008
Slow Life
Rings Around the World
Gateway SongRun Away
Golden Retriever
Do or Die
Neo Consumer
She Got Spies
The Gift that Keeps Giving
Earth
Zoom
Receptacle for the Respectable
Juxtapose
Into the Night
Baby Ate My 8ball
Calimero
Earth II
If You Don't Want Me To Destroy You
Hello Sunshine
Man Don't Give a Fuck
Cosmic Trigger
Great American Music Hall : San Francisco, CA : Feb. 09, 2008
Slow Life - gruff sings through eyehole of red power rangers helmet.
Rings
Gateway/Runaway
Golden Retriever
Do or Die
Neo Con
Terrible mountaineer (Torra Fy Ngwallt Yn Hir) - starring kliph scurlock (drummer flaming lips) on scissors. something about "will you cut my hair long?"
Gift That Keeps Giving
Earth
Zoom
Receptacle - it was a big carrot!
Juxtapose - gruff did the 2 mike boom. one side vocoder (oh so nice) and clean voice.
Into The Night
8-Ball
Calimero
Hello Sunshine - duet with wendy flowers. a repeat of the fillmore 2002, 2004, 2005 sfa shows.
Man Don't Give
Cosmic Trigger
1/20/08
Frank, isnt it?!
From the book 'The Real Frank Zappa Book'
The following section is excerpted from the keynote address I delivered at the 1984 convention of the American Society of University Composers (ASUC).
I do not belong to your organization. I know nothing about it. I'm not even interested in it - and yet, a request has been made for me to give what purports to be a keynote speech. Before I go on, let me warn you that I talk dirty, and that I will say things you will neither enjoy nor agree with. You shouldn't feel threatened, though, because I am a mere buffoon, and you are all Serious American Composers. For those of you who don't know, I am also a composer. I taught myself how to do it by going to the library and listening to records. I started when I was fourteen and I've been doing it for thirty years. I don't like schools. I don't like teachers. I don't like most of the things that you believe in-and if that weren't bad enough, I earn a living by playing the electric guitar. For convenience, without wishing to offend your membership, I will use the word "WE" when discussing matters pertaining to composers. Some of the "WE" references
will apply generally, some will not. And now: The Speech....
The most baffling aspect of the industrial-American-relevance question is: "Why
do people continue to compose music, and even pretend to teach others how
to do it, when they already know the answer? Nobody gives a fuck." Is it really worth the trouble to write a new piece of music for an audience that doesn't care? The general consensus seems to be that music by living composers is not only irrelevant but also genuinely obnoxious to a society which concerns itself primarily with the consumption of disposable merchandise. Surely "WE" must be punished for wasting everyone's precious time with an art form so unrequired and trivial in the general scheme of things. Ask your banker-ask your loan officer at the bank, he'll tell you: "WE" are scum. "WE" are the scum of the earth. "WE" are bad people. "WE" are useless bums. No matter how much tenure "WE" manage to weasel out of the universities where "WE" manufacture our baffling, insipid packages of inconsequential poot, "WE" know deep down that "WE" are worthless. Some of us smoke a pipe. Others have tweed sports coats with leather patches on the elbows. Some of us have mad scientists' eyebrows. Some of us engage in the shameless display of incredibly dramatic mufflers, dangling in the vicinity of a turtleneck sweater. These are only a few of the reasons why "WE" must be punished.
Today, just as in the glorious past, the composer has to accommodate the specific taste (
matter how bad) of THE KING-reincarnated as a movie or TV producer, the head of the opera company, the lady with the feightening hair on the 'special committee' or her niece, Debbie.
Some of you don't know about Debbie, since you don't have to deal with radio stations and record companies the way the people from The Real World do, but you ought to find out about her, just in case you decide to visit later. Debbie is thirteen years old. Her parents like to think of themselves as average, God-Fearing American White Folk. Her Dad belongs to a corrupt union of some sort and is, as we might suspect, a lazy, incompetent, overpaid, ignorant son-of-a-bitch.
Her mother is a sexually maladjusted mercenary shrew who lives to spend her husband's paycheck on ridiculous clothes-to make her look 'younger.' Debbie is incredibly stupid.
She has been raised to respect the values and traditions which her parents hold sacred. Sometimes she dreams about being kissed by a lifeguard. When the people in the Secret
Office Where They Run Everything From found out about Debbie, they were thrilled. She was perfect. She was hopeless. She was their kind of girl.
She was immediately chosen to become the Archetypical Imaginary Pop Music Consumer & Ultimate Arbiter of Musical Taste for the Entire Nation - from that moment on, everything musical in this country would have to be modified to conform to what they computed to be her needs and desires.
Debbie's 'taste' determined the size, shape and color of all music broadcast and sold in the United States during the latter part of the twentieth century. Eventually she grew up to be just like her mother, and married a guy just like her Dad. She has somehow managed to reproduce herself. The people in The Secret Office have their eye on the daughter at this very moment.
Now, as a serious American composer, should Debbie really concern you? I think so.
Since Debbie prefers only short songs with lyrics about boy-girl relationships, sung by persons of indeterminate sex, wearing S&M clothing, and because there is Large Money involved, the major record companies (which a few years ago occasionally risked investment in recording of new works) have all but shut down their classical divisions, seldom recording new music.
The small labels that do, have wretched distribution. (Some have wretched accounting procedures - they might release your recording, but you won't get paid.)
This underscores a major problem with living composers: they like to eat. (Mostly what they eat is brown and lumpy_and there is no question that this diet has had an effect on their collective output.) A composer's job involves the decoration of fragments of time. Without music to decorate it, time is just a bunch of boring production deadlines or dates by which bills must be paid. Living composers are entitled to proper compensation for the use of their works. (Dead guys don't collect - one reason their music is chosen for performance.)
There is another reason for the popularity of Dead Person Music. Conductors prefer it
because they need more than anything else to look good. By performing pieces that
the orchestra members have hacked their way through since conservatory days, the rehearsal costs are minimized - players go into jukebox mode, and spew off 'the classics' with ease-and the expensive guest conductor, unencumbered by a score with 'problems' in it, gets to thrash around in mock ecstasy for the benefit of the committee ladies (who wish he didn't have any pants on).
"Hey, buddy, when was the last time you thwarted a norm? Can't risk it, eh? Too much at stake over at the old Alma Mater? Nowhere else to go? Unqualified for 'janitorial employment'? Look out! Here they come again! It's that bunch of guys who live in the old joke: it's YOU and two billion of you closest friends standing in shit up to your chins, chanting, 'DON'T MAKE A WAVE!'"
It's the terror of a bad review from one of those tone-deaf elitists who use the premiere performance of every new work as an excuse to sharpen their word skill.
It's settling for rotten performances by musicians and conductors who prefer the sound of Death Warmed Over to anything scribbled in recent memory (making them 'assistant music critcs,' but somehow more glamorous).
It's clutching the ol' Serial Pedigree, secure in the knowledge that no one checks anymore.
Beat them to the punch, ladies and gentlemen!
Punish yourselves before they do it for you. ( If you do it as a group, the TV rights might be worth something.) Start planning now, so that everything will be ready in time for the next convention. Change the name of your organization from ASUC to "WE"-SUCK, get some cyanide and swizzle it into the punch bowl with some of that white wine 'artistic' people really go for, and Bite The Big One!
If the current level of ignorance and illiteracy persists, in about two or three hundred years a merchandising nostalgia for this era will occur-and guess what music they'll play! (They'll still play it wrong, of course, and you won't get any money for having written it, but what the hey? At least you didn't die of syphilis in a whorehouse opium stupor with a white curly wig on.)
It's all over, folks. Get smart-take out a real estate license. The least you can do is tell your students: "DON'T DO IT! STOP THIS MADNESS! DON'T WRITE ANY MORE MODERN MUSIC!" ( If you don't , the little stinker might grow up to kiss more ass than you, have a longer, more dramatic neck-scarf, write music more baffling and insipid than you own, and Bingo! there goes your tenure.)
*NOTE From the Editors of Muscience:
It pretty much sums up my thoughts on the issue.
Muscience agrees with everything FZ says and we'd like to acknowledge
basic plagurism. No one can say it any better....
Go check out FZ website.
postscript:
Unfortunately, Mr. Zappa failed to see into the future correctly. The insipid little 'debbies' out there, somehow managed to brood something called myspace and blogspot. From the afterbirth of these spawn comes a feeding ground for the composers of oddness to nurture their monsters. Monsters with the capacity to destroy the music moguls of our recent history. Gives a new spin on 'using little debbies for the wrong/right reasons'
1/16/08
we nit, we knit, a rug made out of 'air.
whats on my what? no, your what. whats on my what? no, your what. whats on my hat? no, your what. whats on my what? no, your what. whats on my where? no, your where. whats on my where? no, your where. whats on my what? no, your what. whats on my where? no your what. whats on my hand? your what? whats on my hand? your what? whats on my hand? your whats on your what? what what? what where? what?
(look behind you to the left. look behind you to the right.)
repeat:
4 small nits stand near a precipice. (too near if you ask me) their whatwhat dialogue going on for 2 days straight. neither of them giving in. people thought the competion would last only 5 minutes. these four were at each others throats. all equally determined with winning the trophy. (or atrophy if you ask me). i left the circus tent for air. for what? for air. whatwhat?....stop it. i can breathe steadier, it seems, if i sing it to myself. just look at the ground for awhile. the what? stop it. the sound of 3 things hitting the ground broke my attention with a gasp. could it really be?! sounds of cheering!? oh, no!? theres a winner? a what? oh, no. 3 fell. oh, no. three fell. oh, no. could it be? a what? a winner a what?
(look behind you to the left. look behind you to the right.)
repeat:
4 small nits stand near a precipice. (too near if you ask me) their whatwhat dialogue going on for 2 days straight. neither of them giving in. people thought the competion would last only 5 minutes. these four were at each others throats. all equally determined with winning the trophy. (or atrophy if you ask me). i left the circus tent for air. for what? for air. whatwhat?....stop it. i can breathe steadier, it seems, if i sing it to myself. just look at the ground for awhile. the what? stop it. the sound of 3 things hitting the ground broke my attention with a gasp. could it really be?! sounds of cheering!? oh, no!? theres a winner? a what? oh, no. 3 fell. oh, no. three fell. oh, no. could it be? a what? a winner a what?
1/12/08
Relief from Belief
Belief is the psychological state in which an individual holds a proposition or premise (argument) to be true without necessarily being able to adequately prove its main contention to other people who may or may not agree.
faith, reason, and imagination. three classically means to knowledge, meaning or truth.
truth, belief, and justification are notions that are similiar to knowledge.
notion can be described as a reflection in the mind of real objects and phenomena in their essential features and relations.
Loosely speaking, justification is the reason why someone holds the belief, the explanation as to why the belief is a true one, or an account of how one knows what one knows.
one is not what they believe in.
by proving this to you, i would negate this contention.
imagine, if you will, a charity collecting money for its needs. its needs are meaning. its money is intention. will it ever make its mark. do charities intend to complete their course. do they really. or are their true unspoken intentions, to collect forever. for a resolutionless cause. the later, i suppose.
faith, reason, and imagination. three classically means to knowledge, meaning or truth.
truth, belief, and justification are notions that are similiar to knowledge.
notion can be described as a reflection in the mind of real objects and phenomena in their essential features and relations.
Loosely speaking, justification is the reason why someone holds the belief, the explanation as to why the belief is a true one, or an account of how one knows what one knows.
one is not what they believe in.
by proving this to you, i would negate this contention.
imagine, if you will, a charity collecting money for its needs. its needs are meaning. its money is intention. will it ever make its mark. do charities intend to complete their course. do they really. or are their true unspoken intentions, to collect forever. for a resolutionless cause. the later, i suppose.
11/10/07
son of a solecism; muscience. a brief history in thyme
2 words. seperate islands in a vast sea of culture, philosophy, and intention. brought together with an elusive grasping/releasing of meaning.
mu - a zen reply which unasks the question.
science - a whole lot of questions and a whole lot of answers.
my 2 sisters and i were raised with all the classic pseudo catholic fears and beliefs. halfway explained. mostly enforced. mom, dad, sunday school teachers, teachers, and other adults always gave really lame answers to serious questions from an 8 year old boy. me. haunted thru adolescence by the confusion, i set out to answer my own questions. just like a real grownup scientist. at the time i didnt know that a scientist of questions was called a philosopher. i'm still not sure that i know that or not.
mom brought home a book on yoga when my little sister was in her tummy. she probably heard on the news that yoga was a good thing for pregancy. if you didnt know this, well, now you do. i read the book. i followed the poses. it made me breathe into a place that i never knew. so, here is the linear word association reflective of my realizing a place where breath is. yoga, breathing, gods and goddesses, vibration, light, dark, zen, absence, reflection, me, i, om, mu.
here lies the path to my science of questioning.
are you learning? why do you want to know that? what do you think? where did you get that idea?
how do you feel? where are you, hello? staring at nothing again?
all of these questions were asked to or around me.
my answers, as a kid, couldnt come out. i didnt have the vocabulary to explain my self. i still dont.
but muscience seems to be my rorshack of letters and words.
i was 19 years old. muscience (sounds like conscience), felt like a name for a magazine i wanted to start that dealt with the music of conscience and the science of sound/light as it applies to spirit and form. there was alot of cosmic ideas. there was a ton of science. there was alot of questions asked and unasked, answered and unanswered.
i've been a musician since i was 5 years old. never a great musician, but, always a natural one. i would get bored or in a block so i would learn another instrument. heres the order: piano, reel to reel, painting, guitar, bass, synthesizers, drum machines, 4 track cassette, orchestra, sounds/foley/fx, performance, samplers, fiddle, multitrack studio, traps, mandolin, tabla, song, production, voice, life.
of course, i'm still studying all of the aforementioned. master of none. natural at all.
ideas summed by muscience were always there.
"in order to truly know something, one must learn. then unlearn."
switching instruments allowed me to do this. it may not seem important to most. but, it was the basis of all my intentions. before, and after, i considered it as muscience.
muscience being a verb. being a definition.
"the presence AND absence of a thing makes us whole"
who, where, what,why is god. does it really matter. the f-hole of a violin being my physical being of our understanding of god. its a hole. absent of form. without it (without nothing,) its not a violin.
"to think or not think, that is the essence"
being comfortable in all situations. bad and good have to be embraced. a magic protective device that removes us from the pain of being. called unconditional love. not necessarily for someone. but, for all things, as they are.
muscience. since 1984.
ehaw
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