I'm Not One to Blog, But...

Not Enough People Love Him and I Don't Know Why

2009-07-13T17:08:00.000-07:00

Perhaps Alejandro Escovedo almost always tours with strings because his voice is in their register, if sometimes unstrung. Of course that one sentence is already too far into the story for many of you, as Escovedo has never got much beyond cult status--sadly mentioning that his niece is Sheila E. might be the best way to put him on most folks' cutural radar. But over his four decade career (wrong word, as that implies a plan), Escovedo has made more good music of more kinds than most, and by being so insufferably un-pigeon-hole-able has never even got the acclaim of, say, a Leonard Cohen, ever the cynical-Buddhist-roué (a genre-busting role, sure, but a consistent one). Escovedo first performed with the SF punks the Nuns, even playing at the infamous Sex Pistols' last concert. But since 1975 he's gone country punk and then maybe just country (Rank & File and the True Believers), fronted the thank the wham-bam-of-glam band Buick MacKane, and released solo albums fine enough to get him named No Depression's artist of the decade (1990s). Of course, those albums feature tunes as sweet as the love song "Broken Bottle" and a cover of The Stooges "I Wanna Be Your Dog." Oh, and he's Mexican-American, but that signifies more culturally (a whole song cycle for his dad and the immigrant experience) than musically ("Castanets," for instance, isn't Latin-tinged but an out-and-out rocker, something like the Chuck Berry meets the Replacements). I mean us anglo-folk can't even say he's the guy who covered "La Bamba" or something.

But we can love his music and his performances of that music, as what looked to be a near sold-out house did at the Lobero Theatre on Saturday night. He opened in front of the stage (it's a usual bit of his performance, working in or near the crowd), and that's part of his power--he draws you in, sometimes so you might swoon, sometimes to make you flinch. Playing with his longtime guitarist David Pulkinghame and a cellist whose name, alas, I couldn't quite catch, they kicked off with "Five Hearts Breaking," a song that sets his musical scene well. The cello gets to both soar and saw; the song whispers and wings--his love of volume/tempo shifts echo how his art witnesses life's duality; as for the words, well, her voice is five hearts breaking, but it's saying, "Believe believe and everything will be alright." Escovedo sings it likes he means it--he always does--so we end up with a song that says believe while recognizing exactly why we shouldn't, too. It's way (weigh?) more than a pop ditty.

That's how the rest of the show went, too. Escovedo brought out show opener (and, sadly, sort of a bore) Chuck Prophet, musical accomplice for his most recent fine album Real Animal, for the last two-thirds of the set, and even those who were not-for-Prophet before had to be converted with killer versions of "Always a Friend" (so damn catchy), "Sister Lost Soul" (slowed down and even more mournful), and others.

Finally, for encores he both pleased and slightly pissed off this fan, and not just because he didn't play the monumental "Pissed Off 2 a.m." Nope, it's because he promised so much that I wanted more--he's not the kind of guy who you let off the hook for just a fine show, it has to be a killer (in every way). First, they played "Broken Bottle," with its haunting melody and wistful lyrics, ever a crowd pleaser. Except I've seen the definitive version of it live, Jon Langford and Sally Timms doing a death-defyingly slow version at McCabe's a few years back. Now, Escovedo could probably win the song back, but not with the help of his special guest Amy Cook, who suffers from that over-dramatic singing thing that gives me American Idol creeps. You have to be more gnetle with a "Broken Bottle" you know. Next up was a cover of the Bowie-penned Mott the Hoople-performed "All the Young Dudes," another winner, till Ms. Cook got her verse and wrung its poor neck. (Sorry to be harsh, but Cook doesn't deliver in my musical kitchen as it were.) Then to close they opted to resurrect an obscure cover (it's on a Bloodshot Records anniversary disc) of Mick Jagger's (no, not the Stones, we're talking solo Jagger) "Evening Gown." It's a terrific country rock romp, a bit too melodically straightforward to fit on Exile on Main Street perhaps, and it fits Escovedo's timbre perfectly. Alas, instead of dueting with (and no, I'm not obsessed, but it sure does seem odd to me he comes up twice) Jon Langford as he did on the recording, he dueted with Chuck Prophet. And going from Jon Langford to Chuck Prophet is like going from Rembrandt to Thomas Kincaide, minus the units moved, of course.

So, what should have been out and out a brilliant way to go out was just damn good. But Escovedo is so damn good, I wanted more.

I realize this probably says more about me than the show.

Here's a version of "Everybody Loves Me" with a violin in place of the cello, but you'll get the point.

Eye Don't Get It

2009-07-12T21:58:00.000-07:00

For Dog Blog ~~Friday~~ Sunday: Nigel sort of sums it up here. Was out of town just overnight (but what a night--details will eventually follow about my evening as a scullery maid at Hearst Castle). Got back, friend had a 40th to-do. Saturday was Alejandro Escovedo. Today was my first ever kayaking adventure (and boy are my arms tired). So there's lots to write about, but little brain power to do it with. Here's hoping I can get back to more regular postings. In my irregular way, of course.

Friday Random Ten

2009-07-10T17:04:00.000-07:00

Elvis Costello & Steve Nieve "Allison/Living a Little, Laughing a Little/Tracks of My Tears/Tears of a Clown/No More Tearstained Make-Up/Clowntime Is Over" For the First Time in America
Willard Grant Conspiracy "Beyond the Shore" Regard the End
John Hiatt "It'll Come to You" Slow Turning
Franco & Rochereau "Lisanga Ya Ba Nganga" Omona Wapi
The Beatles "Here, There, & Everywhere" Revolver
Big Star "Hung Up with Summer" In Space
Leonard Cohen "I'm Your Man" Live in London
Wilco "Radio Cure" Kicking Television: Live in Chicago
Roger Eno & Kate St. John "Our Man in Havana" Familiar
The Magnetic Fields "Parades Go By" 69 Love Songs

bonus
Daniel Lanois "The Messenger" For the Beauty of Wynona

Late, and in some ways cut 1 should be 1-6, but it ends up all over, doesn't it?

Makes You Long for the Days of Fred Grandy

2009-07-08T12:52:00.000-07:00

TPM reports:

GOP Rep. Steve King Is Only Vote Against Recognizing History Of Slave Labor In Capitol

Here's an interesting example of those famous lone "No" votes in Congress -- the contrarian who is willing to stand up alone against the overwhelming majority of his or her colleagues, and vote against something that was passing easily.

Yesterday, the House of Representatives voted 399-1 for the Capitol Visitors Center to have a plaque acknowledging the role of slave labor in the construction of the Capitol. The resolution has information in it that even this history fanatic didn't know about -- for example, slave labor was involved in constructing the "Statue of Freedom" atop the Capitol Dome.

At the time it was unclear why King would make such a stand, but INOTBB has learned the following from King spokesperson John B. Irchers, "Congressman King has grown worried over the past few weeks that he was losing his vaunted spot as the most ridiculous Republican. John Ensign, Mark Sanford, Sarah Palin--they've had too much news time of late, and then there's Michele Bachmann who is at least a St. Paul short of a Twin Cities. King is sure this vote will help cement his reputation that he prefers is not tarred."

What's more Irchers claims that Congressman King "thinks this whole thing about a few slaves is just part of what the media wants you to believe. Look, if history taught us one thing, if we only kept going with all those very much legal immigrants we wouldn't have the illegal immigration problem we have today. Heck, after they got done with the Capitol, they should have built that electric fence the Congressman's been asking for."

Resigning Woman

2009-07-06T14:06:00.000-07:00

Sarah Palin on July 3, 2009: In the words of General MacArthur said, 'We are not retreating. We are advancing in another direction.' One with less grammar."

Sarah Palin on July 27, 2009: "I have hiked the Appalachian Trail. It does not go to Argentina."

Sarah Palin on July 29, 2009: "Please tell David Letterman that Bristol was not on the hike with me and she was not knocked up by Mark Sanford. Now I have to go hold two magnificent parts of myself in the faded glow of night’s light. Look for a full pictorial in the August Runner's World. And my lawyer will threaten a lawsuit in the morning."

Sarah Palin on October 23, 2009: "Since the truly worthy causes in this world should be the public priority with time and resources and NOT this local / superficial wasteful political bloodsport, I have decided I will find out what happened to Amelia Earhart, especially as she probably disappeared over the Pacific somewhere tropical."

Sarah Palin on November 21, 2009: "I have discovered the real killer of Nicole Brown Simpson but I can't tell you who it was (hint: wrong famous black man). I know not to explain: your friends don't need it and your enemies won't believe you anyway."

Sarah Palin on March 15, 2010: "A good point guard drives through a full court press, protecting the ball, keeping her eye on the basket... and she knows exactly when to pass the ball so that the team can WIN. I am proud to be named the new coach of the Clippers."

Sarah Palin on March 25, 2010: "I've never believed that I, nor anyone else, needs a title to do this - to make a difference... to HELP people. So I will no longer be Clippers 'coach' while still making a difference."

Sarah Palin on January 20, 2013: "I am honored to be elected the first female president of the United States. And since I do not believe in politics as usual, I am resigning the presidency with this speech. Also."

Pepless Pup

2009-07-03T07:02:00.000-07:00

For Dog Blog Friday: Mookie sort of sums it up and he doesn't even enjoy visits to Hollister Brewing.

Friday Random Ten (Thursday Edition)

2009-07-02T22:26:00.000-07:00

Moby "35 Minutes" Hotel
Penguin Cafe Orchestra "Perpetuum Mobile" Concert Program
Freedy Johnston "Underwater Life" Blue Days, Black Nights
Guided by Voices "At Odds with Dr. Genesis" King Shit and the Golden Boys
Pavement "Blue Hawaiian" Brighten The Corners: Nicene Creedence Edition
The Mad Lads "Patch My Heart" The Complete Stax/Volt Singles: 1959-1968
This Mortal Coil "Another Day" It'll End in Tears
Mick Moloney "Jigs: Arthur Darley's/Over the Hills to Runbush" Strings Attached
Andre 3000 "My Favorite Things" The Love Below
Pixies Gouge Away" Doolittle

bonus
Yo La Tengo "Tijuana Taxi" Yo La Tengo Is Murdering the Classics

Not the most crucial of lists this week, no? And, alas, cut #12 was "Thirftshoppin'" by Pianosaurus, so good music lurked. As for the actual list, can you spot George's favorite? Can you guess which album was part of a crucial label-honoring show he did way back when he did college radio in grad school (probably 1985)?

Jackson's Soul, Why Roaming?

2009-07-01T22:49:00.000-07:00

Took this photo last Thursday and forgot to post it. Perhaps it's Michael Jackson's soul floating out over the hills above the Santa Ynez Valley. I will not make a joke about the prominent sign in the foreground or the Boy Scout camp you can't see in the background.

Nothing Could Be Finer than to Be in Argentina in the Morning

2009-06-30T14:22:00.000-07:00

Right now, Bill Clinton is thinking, "Damn! Why didn't I think of that?" For here's more (thanks AP) from Mark Sanford, who now seems as loose with his lips as he was with his zipper: "This was a whole lot more than a simple affair, this was a love story. A forbidden one, a tragic one, but a love story at the end of the day."

See, Republicans take the high road even when they cheat on their wives--they fall in love. No simple boning for them. (Although if he blames the affair on Piazzolla playing in the background, I'll personally fly to South Carolina and punch him out.)

All Clinton had to do was say he loved Monica Lewinsky and everything would have been alright. Not that Democrats can love, since they think people of the same gender can love each other and they think sex is for something other than procreation. (You don't see Palins making that mistake now, do you.)

And I have to make one very obscure film reference, but it's funny to the both of you who will get it (not that those people probably read this blog, but oh well, I have a forbidden tragic love for this joke). The AP story says:

Sanford, who also admitted meeting his lover more times than he had previously claimed, told The Associated Press in emotional interviews that he "crossed lines" with a handful of other women during 20 years of marriage.

Gee, did he go to a cadet school in Indiana run by Ray Milland? ("Have you heard the story of the Maginot Line?...")

The Crash Course

2009-06-29T22:51:00.000-07:00

We know David Mamet is fond of stacking the deck, given he's buddy-buddy with Ricky Jay, given his plot-twisters like House of Games and The Spanish Prisoner. He stacks it nowhere more than in his 1992 play Oleanna, which is currently being revived at the Mark Taper in Los Angeles. A two-hander (starring the equally compelling Julia Stiles and Bill Pullman) about a college professor and the student who seems intent on ruining him, the play, when written, became a litmus test for a post Clarence Thomas-Anita Hill he said/she said world. Carol is a struggling college student, not even sure the professor believes she should be in college. John is a professor about to get tenure, about to buy a bigger house, about himself more than anything. He can write a book calling the university process for all students hazing and still hope the university will promote him--as his book jacket has it, he is a man of "polite skepticism."

Mamet, however, is an impolite cynic. While John finally opts to try to help Carol--mostly, it seems so he can prove to himself he can really teach anyone, even a student who says she doesn't understand his book, he's that full of himself--Carol finds a very different path to get around her lack of understanding. Oleanna is sort of like a word noir, eventually, and whoever holds the language asks the questions. That means John's hand on Carol's shoulder to comfort her is suddenly something much more. And comfort is the least of anyone's concerns.

John relishes reason so he believes he can use it to find fault with the university system while profiting from it. Carol, meanwhile, finds strength in her "group," which, given the language/jargon she suddenly finds accessbile, seems to be composed of feminists that might make Andrea Dworkin seem moderate (it's completely a straw woman argument, but what else do you expect from Mamet?). The rest of the play is reason v. fundamentalism, and as we know, reason never stands a chance there. Check either 9/11 or eight years of Bush for evidence, if you'd like. The escalating violence as the play continues simply stresses Mamet's belief language only goes so far--it's at best the patter that gets us through the cons of our lives, most often just veneer that keeps society social, too often exposed for how little it means.

The current Taper production features what almost seems an off note, as the blinds to John's office hyper-dramatically rise and fall between acts as a clearly taped and heavily mechanical sound effect plays. What is it that we view we see? What is it that we see we know? That's what the blinds ask, sort of a chorus. As for the actual actors, Pullman makes John just enough pedantic but just enough insecure, full of pauses and tics. It's easy to believe he's a man who is uncertain of his standing enough that he puffs himself up to make up for it. Stiles has the tougher role, but essays it well. In the first act there's enough defiance in her confusion that's it's not totally surprising when she suddenly grows strong when accepted by her "group." And while the staging doesn't play up her attractiveness, her good looks are sort of crucial--it would be a very different play if people might question whether John might sexual harass the student. That might even been Mamet's ultimate insider joke--the only way Carol can prove herself to the patriarchy is to make them be men first and foremost.

For Mamet, it's not just Men are from Mars and Women are from Venus, it's that all humankind has its head up Uranus.

Everybody Say, Is He All Right?

2009-06-26T07:03:00.000-07:00

For Dog Blog Friday: That's not Montgomery Clift, honey, but it is the right profile.

Friday (Somewhat) Random Ten

2009-06-26T07:01:00.000-07:00

For this week, decided to take a cue, two weeks late, from Tom at If I Ran the Zoo, and so here's a random ten only from 2009 adds, just over 900 in number (which means it can be music from pre-2009, of course):

Richard Thompson "Sunset Song" 2008-10-04 Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival Golden Gate Park San Francisco
Peter Blegvad "Powers in the Air" The Naked Shakespeare
Nickel Creek "Best of Luck" Paste Magazine Sampler 17
Los Fakires "Mira El Bodeguero" Mi Casa Su Casa
The Pipettes "Guess Who Ran Off with the Milkman?" Your Kisses Are Wasted on Me ep
Moonlight Towers "I Sleep Alone" Paste Magazine Sampler 19
The Pipettes "A Winter's Sky" We Are the Pipettes
A.C. Newman "Take on Me" Sweetheart
Cotton Jones "I Am the Changer" Paranoid Cocoon
Shannon McArdle "Summer of the Whore" Summer of the Whore

bonus
Ida Maria "Keep Me Warm" Keep Me Warm

"Say someone stole a line from Ezra Pound/ Whose to say it hadn't lay their for centuries/ waiting to be found." That's very true, I've found, as there aren't too many "pop" lines that might earn the Hugh Kenner seal of approval. And yes, I did finally add all those Paste Mag cds I had for a few years. And yes, that is A.C. Newman doing a-ha. Damn well.

Ox Me No More Questions

2009-06-25T12:24:00.000-07:00

Charles Newbold knew he had to be an inventor or he'd let his surname down. What's more, Newbold didn't settle for inventing the bong/vibrator that finally lays to rest the question "do you smoke after sex?" or the weed cutting golf club that allowed duffers to say "rough? what rough." Nope, Newbold opted to be Mr. Plow. For on Friday 212 years ago he patented the cast iron plow. (Note: if you patent something, do it on a Friday so you have a weekend to celebrate.) Oxen were pulling for (haha) the plow to be made of Styrofoam, of course, but no one had yet invented the ox-voice-decoder, so their grunts were hard to understand. While his invention broke new ground, the cast iron plow didn't sprout up like weeds on farms throughout the land as farmers worried cast iron would poison the ground. In fact, many complained loudly about that as they spread the latest fertilizer from Monsanto.

Hollywood Parties Like It's 1939

2009-06-24T17:21:00.000-07:00

Sorry I have barely blogged for nearly 48 hours, but I was busy on the Appalachian Trail. I mean, I've spent hours discovering that I can't be a Republican or a Christian since I don't cheat on my wife. I would blog something about Iran, but I don't know anything to act like I do. And who would go on and on about what the U.S. should be doing without some knowledge? Oh, yeah, more reasons I'm not a Christian Republican.

But I do know something about movies--I've even seen some--so let's talk about those. Today the Academy Of Motion Picture Arts & Sciences (or AMPAS, which only sounds like it should be pronounced Ample Ass) announced it's going to have 10 films nominated for Best Picture starting next year. Surely that means even better best films will win the Oscar; after all, 11 Republicans ran for President in 2008 and look how that turned out. Plus, that means the cinematic equivalent of Duncan Hunter can soon say "Oscar nominated." Basically, I think this change means the Razzies are out of business.

Of course Hollywood sees this as a win-win-winfinitum. More films get to brag. More ad campaigns get to be run. (Yes, this might mean that someday soon all that will be left of the LA Times is the Envelope tab. Joe Pulitzer is more-or-less on permanent rotisserie in his grave.) More big studio films will get nom nods, including genre step-children from comedies to Michael Bay-blow-shit-up-fests. It will be easier to deny how middlebrow Oscar is when pictures like The Reader (Kate Winslet as your favorite naked Nazi!) can be diluted in a pool of, well, all the spit Harvey Weinstein can fleck. Pixar will never longer have to be piqued. There will be no more dark (k)nights for Christopher Nolan. TV will be happy, as the Oscar telecast will now have to be a miniseries. They'll have to get Richard Chamberlain to host.

AMPAS is trying to suggest this is simply a return to tradition, as even 12 films were nominated in Oscar's early years. But to pretend that the state of filmaking today is what it was in 1939 is historically hysterical. There is no studio system now that give a moderately talented hack like Victor Flemming the opportunity to make a Wizard of Oz. There was no TV, then, let alone computers etc. to distract everyone from the distractions that Hollywood wanted us to be distracted by.

Plus, ten 1939 nominees still didn't do the trick--where was Midnight or Only Angels Have Wings or Gunga Din or The Women? And if you want to dump on that last one as simply a stagy campfest, then please tell me, would you rather have the George Cukor version or the Diane English? And we need more films nominated why? Just to keep Meg Ryan in botox?

Things I Do So You Don't Have To

2009-06-23T22:52:00.000-07:00

Turns out you can get a splinter from a stone.

When Yeast and Cheese Aim to Please

2009-06-22T22:33:00.000-07:00

You know an event has to be a jim-dandy if at some point you think, "If I was a cheese, would you wash me in beer?" and that's exactly what happened this evening at the Beer & Cheese Tasting at C'est Cheese, co-sponsored by Hollister Brewing Company. (Digression, as if every one of my sentences doesn't suffer from at least one, as this poor sentence even has: it might just seem like all I do is eat, drink, cook, make drinks, and write about eating and drinking. That's just how this blog rolls of late, if rolls might be an unfortunate term. The sell-out on health care "reform," say, by the people who are most supposed to be like me politically is just too painful to discuss...without another drink.)

Turns out, as you might know, the good monks and the lay people they hire who are rumored to be even better than the holy folk (no comment from the agnostic gallery, promise) at Chimay in Belgium not only make terrific ales--as Hollister brewer Eric Rose said "the reason you see it everywhere is because it's perfect"--but also cheeses. The most common one to be imported into the U.S. has a washed rind, bathed in Chimay Blue. Hence my opening query, which, alas, didn't get as enthusiastic a response from Amy as I had hoped. I think she'd prefer the tasty cheese to a cheesy husband.

Or one that takes copious notes through an utterly delicious tasting. Part of that is that Kathryn from C'est Cheese and Eric from Hollister are so excited about what they do (and they darn well better be--they sell beer and cheese!) that they impart factoids without pain, so you learn stuff as all the good food and drink go down. But they also simply nail pairings, like the Morbius Double IPA (Rose's latest creation) matched with Shropshire Blue, for as Rose says, "salty foods need hoppy beers." TNT needs a detonator cap, too, but couldn't match this pair for explosive flavor. And then there was my favorite match of the evening (if neither was my favorite cheese or beer--now that shows the complexity of this synergy thing)--Midnight Moon with Allagash Dubbel. Kathryn said she felt the sweet saltiness from the goat's milk cheese brought out the chocolate notes in the beer, but I felt it was more a deep caramel, and for me caramel is a sort of taste safety blanket, so you can't top that (and don't take it away from me or I'll cry).

Obviously, this time around the 5 pairings didn't just feature Hollister Brewing beer, but also beers Rose helped C'est Cheese choose to sell itself. So along with that Allagash Dubbel and Chimay Blue (from the 5 liter bottle, too! they spoiled us so) we had Ommegang Hennepin, which got us so close to the valley girls and gals saying "O-my-gang!" but that's probably not as much a joke near where the beer comes from, Cooperstown, NY. And then I learned there's a Belgium Comes to Cooperstown Beer Festival, which means amazing beer and the Baseball Hall of Fame in the same little town. If I ever do get to go, I might just tremor, fall over, and die of too much joy at one time, the non-sexual version of that me, Neko Case, Julie Delpy threesome. But, like, possible.

Sorry, now that you're all too grossed out to keep reading.... That Ommegang, a wonderful saison style ale, lit up with champagne-like notes for the creamy goodness that is La Tur, the cheese so nice, they had to milk animals thrice--it's made with cow, sheep, and goat cheese. (Kathryn calls it "the scrubby effect of carbonation.") Then there was one more Hollister beer, Rose's new Belgian Country Ale that he says, "Shows the difference between a farmhouse and a saison...bascially I ripped it off from my friends at Russian River." Given as much as I like Perdition in Santa Rosa, it's a 6 hour plus drive, so being able to get an excellent facsimile in Goleta is a big plus. That beer matched well with Cabot Clothbound Cheddar, a new cheese to the store from Vermont, pleasingly pungently cheddar-like, but trading in some of those more ammonia-y after-tones some English cheddars can have for some lovely nuttiness (which the Belgian yeasties--I believe that's the technical term--helped accentuate).

Afterward, we still felt a bit peckish, so picked up some sushi to take home from the ever-reliable Ahi and washed that down sharing a bottle from dear Michigan beer friend Smitty--a New Holland Brewing Golden Cap Saison. It fit the rest of the Belgian-dominated night like a beer named cap caps a fine evening. And it was.

I Put a Spell On You

2009-06-19T16:51:00.000-07:00

A little something for your weekend--he had a run of great songs for awhile there nearly, uh, 30 years ago, didn't he? And even in this more recent clip, you can't go wrong with Brinsley Schwarz and Steve Goulding backing you up.

How Pillow Can You Go

2009-06-19T07:11:00.000-07:00

For Dog Blog Friday: The king of comfortable.

Friday Random Ten

2009-06-19T07:04:00.000-07:00

Laurie Anderson "Washington Street" Life on a String
Fenton Robinson "You Don't Know What Love Is" The Alligator Records 20th Anniversary Collection
Mikel Rouse "Candy Cane" Music for Minorities
Ella Fitzgerald & Louis Armstrong "They All Laughed" Our Love Is Here to Stay: Ella & Louis Sing Gershwin
Portastatic "The Soft Rewind" Bright Ideas
Shawn Colvin "You and the Mona Lisa" A Few Small Repairs
PJ Harvey "Beautiful Feeling" Stories from the City, Stories from the Sea
Fountains of Wayne "Barbara H." Fountains of Wayne
Old 97's "Old Familiar Steam" Wreck Your Life
Son Volt "Creosote" Straightaways

bonus
Los Super Seven "Talk to Me" Heard It on the X

Back to that old standby, lesser tracks by greater artists.

How I Day-ed Your Father

2009-06-18T14:58:00.001-07:00

Friday is the 99th anniversary of Father's Day, which you would think would make it Grandfather's Day at the least by now but what do I know having not spawned myself. (People have made colorful suggestions to me along those lines--"go spawn yourself, George"--but I've never taken them up on it. Or do I mean take myself up on it?) Prior to 1910 there were no fathers, but on the other hand storks had more work. Of course, it's hard to fit more than one stork on your hand, unless it's a baby stork, or storkling, as they're called, but not by their fathers, at least not before 1910. Unable to get "I Am Not a Crook" Day approved by Congress, President Richard Nixon established a permanent national observance of Father's Day in 1972. Luckily we do not have to call it Tricky Dick's Father's Day. Although the Monday after the third Sunday in June is still called "Scrub Till It Hurts in the Shower" Day in many states, perhaps the queasy one you're no doubt in right now.

I'm Waiting for the Expiration Sampler

2009-06-17T14:33:00.000-07:00

Is it just me, or have the ads alongside Yahoo Mail got more and more provocative of late? Here's one that popped up (no pun intended) this morning. And while it might be a lovely idea that undie-clad Russian hotties were staring at their cellphones waiting for my ring (if I were a single man, of course), I know better. Plus it's hard to trust anyone who offers me a "free trial dream marriage." They might not get what's supposed to be the point of marriage. And anyone says marriage is a trial, just go read Sandra Tsing Loh's new Atlantic articles and be happy, I guess.

Everybody Wants to See Gerty McDowell's Underpants

2009-06-16T09:34:00.000-07:00

It's not just Bloomsday but it's also the day I put the counter on my blog back in 2006 (almost 2 years into this ever-burgeoning mass o' words). And, if you count visitors including reloads, and I'll take all the loads I can get, 264,983 people have surfed on up upon INOTBB's sour shores in just the last 3 years. And a quarter million people can't be wrong. Even if a good 100,000 of those have to be me opening my own blog page each day (but I kicked this off with a play on Nausicaä, so that's kind of fitting, no?).

This momentous occasion, and Bloomsday, means it's time once again for poetry with the most common, and when they search they put the common in common, search words that get people to INOTBB. So here goes:

the morganna bandit kissing king
tut blog not audrey tatou julie and nude
one blogspot newmar drunk
bellucci monica but
you barbara santa wife
calcutta roberts morgana twins
ass siamese for nubiles
jenna jannel poison durbin hastert
that szyszka george with lauderdale
what sex over dennis
pictures finger clock debt dog

My Favorite Waste of Time

2009-06-15T16:25:00.000-07:00

I don't care what anyone says, pop isn't short for popular. Exhibit A: Marshall Crenshaw. Sure he dented the Top 40 in 1982 with "Someday, Someway" but that's so long ago I got to interview him while still a college radio DJ in the depressingly decrepit dressing room of the old 930 Club. He never took off his dark glasses as he probably didn't want to give away his impatience with a dopey 19-year-old.

But now a dopey, older man, that his debut album wasn't what oh, say, Thriller was, still makes absolutely no sense to my ears. Marshall Crenshaw is 12 perfect cuts of straight-ahead rock and roll, perhaps a bit too roll-y for some, too straight-ahead for others. No cut is longer than 3:10, and not surprisingly, it's always third verse same as the first--it's practically neo-classical, in spots. Its obsession, as well as the title of its third song, is girls, but the one he most longs for is cynical (never mind they'll be lost in love, sung to notes that begs you to wag your head from side-to-side). He even covers a Beatles song know one has ever heard and it fits right in. We're talking Beatles 1963.

For there's that line Robert Christgau used to delineate similarly archival sorts Rockpile: "Nick Lowe loves rock and roll for everything it implies as culture while Dave Edmunds loves it for everything it is as music." Marshall Crenshaw loves it for everything, period. He's penned a book on rock and roll in the movies, penned a tune for the movies (the title song from Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story), and he's written more memorable melodies, more hummable hooks, more heavenly harmonies, more rapturous riffs than most. And has bupkus to show for it beyond the admiration of old farts like me who got moved by Marshall Crenshaw and Field Day back in the day to the point where his just released album is called Jaggedland.

Crenshaw is going to play SOhO tomorrow/Tuesday night, and I'll be there. Hoping he's with a band, remembering all those shows with his initial power pop (sorry, he hates that phrase but I mean it in the great lineage of folks like Alex Chilton, Tommy Keene, Matthew Sweet) trio of his brother, a true excitable boy, on drums and Chris Donato on bass. Hoping to hear, once again, ear worms I don't mind burrowing into my brain.

In the meantime, someone on YouTube recently posted some vintage Crenshaw (with a band of 5!) that's too good not to include:

Notice here the cliched lines "As life goes on, as time goes by," are meant to be cliches--you can sense the persona singing them hoping to convince himself. That's why we listen to pop songs in the first place, no? Tell us what we want to hear and make it sound simple, sound purty.

Ab Fab(io)

2009-06-12T12:20:00.000-07:00

Top Chef Season Five Fan Favorite (he joked "that meant I didn't win") Fabio Viviani stopped in Santa Barbara last night to help raise money for CALM. That he did, at a $100 ticket price plus auctioning himself off--for cooking not canoodling, ladies--for two private dinners for a cool $7 grand total. And let's put it this way, his continental charm wasn't edited in by the Bravo TV folks--he's sort of Chico Marx in a much prettier package and a chef's coat.

To be honest, the actual cooking demos weren't much, as he had merely a burner he almost dumped from the table once, but he did insist that anyone can cook, so the simplified dishes--Caprese with heirloom tomatoes and pesto dressing, amatriciana, and veal salad-- made a sort of sense for his message, too. (We got to eat deftly prepared versions put together by Cynthia Miranda of Elements Catering.) He brought along the equally Italian and dashing Jacapo Falleni, one of his compadres from his Moorpark restaurant Cafe Firenze, to make matched cocktails that were actually more involved than Fabio's dishes, even if Jacapo had to steal Fabio's balsamic glaze to pull of his balsamic martini. After Jacapo's first demo, Fabio quipped, "Hey, I saw that exact same thing on Sandra Lee!" and that became his running joke for his co-worker, as he later, talking about the ease of his recipes, riffed, "Forget 30 minute meals, we're going to outdate Rachel Ray. It's 15 minutes meals with Fabio, 15 minutes drinks with Sandra Lee!"

And yes, he said minutes. His battles with English, which he's spoken for a mere three-and-a-half-years, only add to his charm, as when he related he tried to order pine nuts but instead got a "big bag of what the monkeys eat." That doesn't mean he's not savvy, though. He wanted to let us see his carefully arranged Caprese but knew if he tilted the plate for too long, the pesto's olive oil would turn into a runny disaster: "Then you're going to put on Facebook that my salad looked a mess."

In general, though, he exuded charm and made good food seem a simple, comforting, comfortable thing. While he joked, "This is tactics: if you can't convince them, confuse them," little he did puzzled. Instead, it seemed perfect common sense, as when he said, "People ask, 'How do I know when my wine is reduced?' And I say, 'When it's no longer there.' Cook is a simple procedure."

Some other choice Fabio-isms:

On pesticides: "If I find a little snail in my lettuce at a restaurant, I'm happy. Today is a rare gift to find something alive in your salad."

On salads: "I don't think there's any reason to eat vegetables if there's meat around."

On artichokes: "The very first twenty leaves of an artichoke not even a goat can eat one of those."

On grinding one's own pepper: "You get to go to the gun show [points at his biceps] after the pepper."

On tossing a pan's contents, not stirring: "I toss everything. I can't wait to have the kids to toss them in the trolley."

On avoiding calories: "They have light ranch dressing in the supermarket. C'mon, this is like a light hangover, like a light punch in the face."

Your Swimming Pool Eyes in Sea Breezes They Flutter

2009-06-12T07:15:00.000-07:00

For Dog Blog Friday: Yes, at times we stare at them in wonder.