uncorrected proof

Making Our Way Out of the Darkness?

2007-01-18T13:02:00.000-08:00

Last night I was on my way to my writer's group meeting. It was being hosted at one of the member's homes in the Presidio. Although I discovered the 29 goes pretty much right by my friend's house, I decided to walk there from my house in the outer, outer Richmond. In the dark. Why not? Jack Bauer style, baby!

Armed with a map and a small but powerful flashlight, I walked along Lincoln Highway. At points I walked in the rain gutter in order to avoid being hit by a car (actually, there's a pretty wide pullover lane as you walk over the hill from Sea Cliff to the Presidio). That's my idea of fun, what can I tell you?

Anyway, I got lost right near my friend's house and I had to call for directions near the Golden Gate Bridge toll plaza (fyi: if you don't have a cell phone and are lost near that area, there's a working pay phone in the rear parking lot of the toll plaza).

I tell you this story because right as I was wandering around in the dark, the Warriors were announcing their big eight player trade with the Indiana Pacers! Goodbye, young Jesus lookalikes, Dunleavy and Murphy. Hello, Al Harrington and salary cap space! Hoorah! Maybe the Warriors can truly become the Faces of the NBA (I know, it's a lot of Uncorrected Proof injokes. Read my recent posts)!

So, in the new Faces=Warriors formulation: Baron Davis=Rod Stewart; Jason Richardson or Monta Ellis=Ronnie Lane; Al Harrington=Ron Wood; Steven Jackson or Mikael Pietrus=Ian McLagan; Andris Biedrins=Kenny Jones. Not the perfect formulation. I'll have to see how this team shakes out. Still, looking forward to the rest of the season of "Bad 'n Ruin" (in a good way).

24 Dreambook Pt. III & Other Odds & Ends

2007-01-16T13:32:00.000-08:00

Dream: Once again I am running from something. Just as I'm about to be caught, Jack Bauer, in the form of an angel, swoops in and saves me. I feel spiritually redeemed.

I have some variation on the "being pursued" nightmare almost every night. Has Jack Bauer become my dream saviour? Have my recently posted memories about "Jesus Christ Superstar" dredged up my childhood fascination with Jesus? What is Jack Bauer if not the Jesus of the USA. Think about it, he (He?) looked just like Jesus when he was returned from the Chinese prison in the first episode of this season's "24." Also, he's come back from the dead--resurrected!--a couple of times.

Other "24" observations. The late Curtis had to have been the longest-lived minority CTU field agent. He was walking around with a target on his back for several years. It took Jack to kill him.

Also, I don't dig Wayne Palmer as the president. Too callow; too tormented and well-meaning. But maybe that's the point! He's clearly the Teddy Kennedy (circa 1969) of the Palmer family. Tim Goodman from the SF Chronicle has compared him to Barack Obama, but President Palmer II doesn't have the voice. Maybe it's because he doesn't smoke like Obama does. Today, Slate magazine has an interesting essay about Obama's supposedly "occasional" smoking habit and how it ironically makes him sound more presidential (while slowly killing him). I should learn how to put links on this blog, shouldn't I?

You know who has a good smoker's voice? Jack Bauer!!! The series should end with Jack as President of the USA!

Currently listening to Iggy Pop's "The Idiot" and David Bowie's "Low."

The Lord's Day to Rock!

2007-01-14T17:45:00.000-08:00

A significant Sunday event: I was at work this morning in an unusually good mood. I guess the sugar from my hazlenut blackberry muffin and the caffeine from my Peet's coffee and my peanut butter and jelly sandwich and my sesame bagel and my poppyseed bagel and my peppermint tea (consumed over a several hour period) were sustaining me pretty well.

My young friend Ethan (six years of age) stopped by to visit. He brought me a picture he had drawn portraying "Jesus Christ Superstar," which he had recently seen at the Magic Theatre. Jesus looked a bit like a bowling pin with long hair and a beard. To the right of him was the cross where he would meet his fate, and to its right were three wretched, burned-black looking creatures—Judas and two other guys, Ethan wasn't sure who they were. He asked me if we had any books about this Jesus character.

I was thrilled beyond measure to receive this gift. I, like Ethan, was a Jewish boy who was smitten by "Jesus Christ Superstar." For me, it wasn't the stage show, but the Original Cast Recording with Ian Gillan from Deep Purple. I've never cared for the movie all that much. I enjoyed casting the songs in my mind more than seeing Ted Neely as Jesus...What can I tell you? I'm a pre MTV child.

Anyway, my point is that "Jesus Christ Superstar," with its excellent songs and excellent rock and roll torment of the Passion did more to evoke religious curiousity in me than any Christian or Jewish Bible study ever did. I guess my religion is Rock and Roll, dudes!

I'm taking a quick side trip from Chekhov and Pynchon: "Sound Bites" by Alex "Franz Ferdinand" Kapranos. Kapranos, a veteran of professional kitchens, wrote a series of brief essays for The Guardian about the food he's eaten while on tour with his band. They are now collected in convenient book form. Well-written, witty, and makes you want to run out, hop on a plane and get some Kluski Pasta in Minneapolis.

24 Dreambook Pt. II & Other Odds & Ends

2007-01-13T18:50:00.000-08:00

Last night, after watching the final episodes of "24" Season Five, I had the following dream: I'm sitting in a parking lot with another person (Allen Iverson? Keifer Sutherland/Jack Bauer?). A man and a woman drive up. They are writers for "24." They are talking about the upcoming Season Six and also dropping sexual innuendo about each other. My companion and I find this conversation unsettling because we know that this couple is married to other people. We're worried about the quality of their writing if they are entangled in an affair. We decide to replace them with the author of a graphic novel. Dream ends.

Since I'll be watching "24" in "real time" rather than "DVD time" this year, I'll be ruminating about the show and logging any of my "24" dreams.

Remember what I said about the GSW's being the Faces of the NBA? Well, they're kind of turning into the Faces cover band of the NBA...

Barry Bonds, you're dead to me!

Favorite spins of this month: The Faces box set, "Five guys walk into a bar...", and the Isley Brothers "3+3."

I'm on my third Chekhov collection: "The Fiancee and Other Stories." The Penguin edition translated by Ronald Wilks. I like his Chekhov translations. They're lively, poetic and humorous. But don't worry, Constance Garnett lovers, I'll get to her soon.

I'm also slowly making my way through "Gravity's Rainbow." We'll see what happens.

A I 24

2007-01-09T21:31:00.000-08:00

The other night I had a nightmare, as I often do after watching several episodes of "24". I was in a dark, abandoned house. I was being pursued. All of a sudden I was joined by someone who was not my pursuer. It was Allen Iverson. When my pursuer got closer, Iverson jumped into the hallway and tackled the pursuer.

Saved again by basketball.

five guys walk into a bar...

2007-01-04T13:07:00.000-08:00

I'm trying to write a piece centered on Rod Stewart's "Every Picture Tells a Story," which motivated me to put the Faces box set, "five guys walk into a bar..." on the CD player. A lovely gift from the Psychedelic Eskimo a few years ago. Although it's kind of annoying that the set is not arranged in chronological order, it also demonstrates that their tight, sloppy singles, loose rehearsal sessions, fiery airchecks, and joking around in the studio banter was all of a piece. Rod was at his peak, Ronnie Lane was writing great songs (one of my resolutions this year: get those Ronnie Lane solo recordings) and singing them sweetly.

Of all games not to be televised--the Warriors losing 144-135 to the Memphis Grizzlies last night. Not that I like to see the W's lose, but I like to see nearly three hundred point games. The Warriors are the Faces of the NBA. Flashes of brilliance, and lots of inconsistency... five warriors walk into a bar...

Coffin for Head of State

2007-01-02T19:57:00.000-08:00

In recent weeks "we" have lost leaders both bad--Hussein, Pinochet, mediocre--Ford, and exalted--Brown. Me, I'll just mourn J.B. and think bad thoughts about Hussein and Pinochet while listening to Fela Kuti (a J.B. disciple) sing "Coffin for Head of State." Also, I'll remain mystified why Gerald Ford is now remembered as a calming influence after Nixon left office, when I recall him as a mediocre dolt back in the '70's. Both views are probably simplistic. Anyway, let's mourn the death of J.B. as well as Fela's Kalakuta Republic. But mainly, let's celebrate the lives of James and Fela in this '07 (Fela died a decade ago).

In this year I'll try to finish the Alphabetical Listening Project, listen to more Brahms, and temper my sarcasm. I'll probably accomplish two of these three goals. Also, I'll read the complete works of Chekhov, submit more pieces of writing to magazines, websites, etc.(I submitted one thing last year). Finally, I'll watch a lot of Laurel and Hardy movies.

Baron 1, Lorelei 0

2006-12-26T11:55:00.000-08:00

Two seasons I have followed pretty closely this autumn: Season Seven of The Gilmore Girls and the 2006 part of the '06-'07 NBA campaign of the Golden State Warriors. The Warriors have gone twelve (or is it thirteen?) seasons out of the playoffs and The Gilmore Girls is in its third season out of my heart--and yet I follow both entities.

The Warriors have always been my local team and I've rooted for them since I was a kid. That's a lotta heartbreak and boredom, people. But I love pro basketball, and that's what I've had to work with. Up until last season I lived without cable so it was difficult to follow the rest of the league except for when they were killing the W's or until the playoffs began. Nowadays thanks to cable (thanks, Psychedelic Eskimo!) I can partially watch the W's do battle and also impartially watch other teams play. I almost enjoy the impartial watching the most because I can appreciate a Gilbert Arenas vs. Steve Nash matchup without getting personally involved (still, I rooted for the Arenas and the Wizards).

Anyway, I'm enjoying the Warriors this season, even some of the losses, because of the play of Baron Davis. Sure, he sometimes takes three pointers when he shouldn't, or tries to drive the lane against five defenders, but mostly he's been a true warrior, taking over games, playing with that self-possessed but unconscious flow that maybe I've experienced a couple of times in my basketball playing life. It's like sex, zen, jazz, dessert...

My main point here is that good things have happened for the Warriors this season when the ball is in Baron's hands, and the same could be said for the Gilmore Girls when the dialogue is coming out of Lauren Graham/Lorelei Gilmore's mouth. Say what? Just stay with me here...For devoted Gilmore watchers, it was always about the dialogue, especially the snappy, self-conscious, self-doubting, self-absorbed, dialogue of Lorelei Gilmore. Few things on TV have been more entertaining for me over the years than watching Lorelei try to talk her way out of a discovered lie or a bad personal decision. What makes these scenes interesting isn't that Lorelei is trying to get one over on people it's that she's wrestling with her moral conscience (in that sense, she's a lot like Tony Soprano). We know Lorelei wants to do the right thing, but she's flawed, just like the rest of us. But considerably wittier.

What sort of dialogue has been written for Lorelei Gilmore this season? Angry, self-deluded, mushy, confused, humorless. And why is this? Because the Sherman-Palladinos, the creators of the show, left her character (and the show) in a cul-de-sac at the end of last season? David Rosenthal, the new head writer, has had a hell of a time working out of this mess, and I don't think he's succeeded. The Luke-Christopher silent fight, as I've written before, is the perfect metaphor for this season. In some ways, the current season of the Gilmores is a lot like last year's Warriors--Baron Davis, frustrated with his coach and his cloddish teammates (not counting JRich) chucking up desperation threes with plenty of time left on the 24 second clock.

Well, this season the W's new coach, Don Nelson, is having a better season than the Gilmores' new coach. Like the W's, the Gilmores are having a .500ish season (creativity wise), maybe their Nielsen ratings are higher than that? Okay, the shaky analogy is breaking down. I guess my ultimate point is that it's a lot more of a pleasure watching Baron do his thing this season than it is to watch Lorelei G/Lauren G. Ultimately, Baron is getting the chance to write a better script. A pity.

Take It to the Bridge!

2006-12-25T17:42:00.000-08:00

Listen to James Brown's "Lost Someone" today or "Live at the Apollo" or the "Live in Paris, 1971." As the poet Al Young has written, the first time he heard "Cold Sweat" on the radio he had to pull over to the side of the road. Listen to "Cold Sweat." Listen to the "Star Time" box set. Pray that J.B. isn't remembered with just the "Livin' in America" video on MTV. Who owes J.B.? Everyone--from Elvis to Michael Jackson to Muhammed Ali. And Hip Hop. He was the greatest American bandleader/composer since Duke Ellington. Damn my luck for never having seen him perform.

About ten years ago, I saw a program of films of J.B. from the sixties and seventies (when he was at his peak). Some incredible stuff. J.B. doing "Please, Please"/ cape routine in the TAMI show--upstaging the headlining Rolling Stones, making Mick Jagger look as tame and adolescent by comparison; lip synching "Say it Loud" on Playboy After Dark of all things; arguing with a white journalist about the Black Power movement on the Mike Douglas show--J.B. getting pissed and pacing in front of the panel, lecturing the journo that he had no idea what he was talking about; J.B. performing live on TV the night MLK was assassinated, telling the cops to let the kids dance on the stage if they wanted to. It would be great to see these films again. You can't even get the TAMI show on DVD (last time I checked anyway)...

J.B. changed music as seriously as Stravinsky. He was engaged in his times. Hopefully his demon side--bad husband, the PCP-fueled car chase that led to his imprisonment--won't be flogged on TV too much. But you know it probably will.

Here was a man!

OUCH!!!

2006-12-22T11:20:00.000-08:00

Every year during the Christmas retail season I come up with some sort of stress-related malady. Sometimes it's a big cold sore on my lip, sometimes it's insomnia, sometimes its a persecution complex. Right now I have an incredibly sore, stiff neck that's making the typing of this blog entry excruciating. Also, I've been obsessively reading pro basketball blogs and I punched out our two dollar calculator at work (RIP Two-Dollar Calculator).

Right now, my brain is mush and I haven't done any meaningful writing in a couple of months. All for you, the customers. See? There's the persecution complex!

Thanks to the Isley Brothers for getting me through work this week--notably "3+3" and "Live." I'll discuss "Live" in a future entry, but right now I've gotta get back to the basketball blogs...

Chekhov Breaks Down the Warriors

2006-12-19T13:24:00.000-08:00

"Life is like that...As they search for truth people take two paces forward and one back. Suffering, mistakes and life's tedium throw them back, but thirst for the truth and stubborn willpower drive them on and on. And who knows? Perhaps they'll arrive at the real truth in the end."
Anton Chekhov, "The Duel"

Hey, if that passage doesn't describe the GSW's 0-3 Eastern road trip, I don't know what does.

Do You Want Scorn With That?

2006-12-13T21:43:00.000-08:00

Most people, I think, would consider me to be a pretty nice guy--polite, respectful, attentive. Just maybe not some of my customers in the bookselling world. Especially at the holiday madness time of year. A body, or at least this body, can only take so many obscure questions shouted out when I'm in the middle of gift wrapping a book for an impatient yuppie. Sometimes the professional facade cracks, the defensive smartass emerges, and innocent blood is spilled. I come off looking like an asshole and my store earns a reputation for rudeness. Yeah, yeah, yeah, it's been happening for nearly two decades. I laugh about it and I feel guilty. Some people love me, some people want to throw coffee in my face (but put a lid on it in my store, please! You think these books are liquid proof?)

Thank heavens for Al Green, Albert Ayler and other artists whose first names begin with "A" (Al "Pistol Packin' Mama" Dexter, Aaron Neville) who've come up on the iPod over the past two days--especially ecstatic Albert Alyler. Holy man, listen to "Spirits Rejoice" or "Live in Greenwich Village" and imagine the rapture of your choosing. I think I'll make the song "Spirits Rejoice" my funeral march music. The funeral may be coming sooner than later if I can't keep my tart tongue quiet.

The "I" of the Storm

2006-12-08T12:54:00.000-08:00

I'm sitting here at the computer waiting for a couple of huge storms to tear through the Yay Area. I've got my usual "a storm's a comin'" sinus headache and I'm battening down the hatches (and doing laundry). What better time to drop in on the Alphabetical Listening Project and discuss a couple of vinyl "I" records I've spun recently: The International Submarine Band's "Safe at Home" and Iron & Wine's "Our Endless Numbered Days."

The International Submarine Band was Gram Parsons's group before he joined The Byrds. "Safe at Home" precedes "Sweetheart of the Rodeo" and in some ways sounds like a more authentic country record--mainly because Gram sounds more comfortable doing straight country. His vocal phrasing sounds heavily influenced by Merle, George and Buck. Gram's voice--if at times charmingly off-key--sounds so young and "undamaged" (listen to his later records, you'll see what I mean) it's almost heartbreaking. G.P. debuts a couple of his best songs--"Luxury Liner" and "Do You Know How it Feels to Be Lonesome"-- and shows good taste with the covers (and good performances)--"A Satisfied Mind"; "Miller's Cave" and "I Still Miss Someone." Still and all, it's funny to think that although G.P. is considered a/the father of country rock, country legend Buck Owens rocked harder than Gram ever did!

Iron & Wine--Gram's fellow south easterner--has been called by some, the "Indie James Taylor." Or maybe I've said that in a fit of grumpiness. I'm not sure if that's totally applicable. J.T. is more (or used to be) of a confessional, heart on the sleeve, pop type of singer whereas I&W's songs seem more impressionistic or southern "fableistic." But maybe just as artily self-conscious? Whispery, beardy, hypnotic, and sometimes downright boring. I still dig "Our Endless Numbered Days" and its predecessor, "The Creek Drank the Cradle," which I have on CD, but just not right now. I did like the I&W M&M's commercial in the sense that it made me want to eat M&M's.

The Macaroni Dialogues

2006-12-07T15:00:00.000-08:00

Here's an example of how screwy bookselling can be: The other evening I was at work when a woman came up to the sales counter and asked if she could exchange a copy of the Joy of Cooking that she'd bought recently (our return policy: The book can be returned for store credit or exchange within thirty days (That's a very liberal return policy for a small retail store, so put a sock in it to all you people telling me that Borders gives cash back on returns!)

Where was I? Oh yeah..."Sure," I said, since it had been within the aforementioned very liberal thirty days return window.

"I want to make macaroni and cheese, and with this book you constantly have to flip back and forth between the sauce page and the pasta page."

"Ah," I said, "That's true. One thing you could do is get the Joy of Cooking with the comb binding which makes it easier to flip back and forth."

"But that's not what I'm saying!" She shouted in my face. "I want to know how to cook macaroni!"

"The macaroni?"

"The macaroni! How do I cook it?"

"Well, you don't really need the book for that. You can just read the instructions on the package. It takes ten minutes or less. Now the sauce, the book can be helpful for..."

"I'm talking about the macaroni," she cut in, "How do I know which kind to get?"

"I just wouldn't get the super cheap brands. They tend to fall apart. Just about any cut pasta works with a cheese sauce."

"I've never cooked macaroni before."

This went on for ten minutes, I kid you not. She finally left with a Mark Bittman cookbook that basically said, "Boil water, drop in macaroni, cook for 8-10 minutes. The customer left the store happy.

While we're on a pasta theme, I'm reading an amusing crime novel called "A Meal to Die For" by Joseph Cannascoli, better known as Vito, the outed gay gangster from the Sopranos. I was intrigued to learn that a few years ago Cannascoli, in an effort to give his character more visibility, suggested to the writers that they reveal his character to be gay. At some point they took up his idea and came up with the most riveting story line in Season Six (Part One). In one of the scenes Season Six, Vito is chopping onions in a very swift, professional fashion. Either he rehearsed for that (to show Vito's domestic side?) or he was once a cook. In fact, Cannascoli was once a chef/restraunteur, and now he and a co-writer have, uh, cooked up this novel about a Mafia cook who's making an elaborate ten-course meal for some Family bigwigs. It seems likely that one of the dinner attendees, or the protagonist himself, might get whacked after dessert, so it's truly a final supper for someone. It's not great literature, but it's one of the more entertaining products on the groaning Sopranos bookshelves. Also, the book includes recipes for the menu that the chef is serving for someone's last meal.

About the Gilmore Girls--I've put seven years into the show, so I'm gonna ride it until the end--even though I feel like hurling my shoe at the TV at least once an episode (as I literally did this week). The best scene of the season, maybe of several seasons: Luke and Christopher's no dialogue fist fight in the middle of Stars Hollow's Christmas display in the town square in the middle of the night. Luke landed more punches, but nothing got solved. Kind of a metaphor for the plot lines of the past two seasons, and possibly the Golden State Warriors over the past decade plus.

I Can't Believe I'm Standing Here With Air Supply!

2006-12-05T11:22:00.000-08:00

I love cable TV! So many good informercials: the colon health system; the magic bullet (the blender thing); the pornographic excercise equipment...so many good ones...but my favorite by far are the music collection ones: The '70's pop music one with Barry (Greg Brady) Williams and some blonde chick; The soul jams one with Peabo Bryson and a young black woman; The soft rock one with the frighteningly coiffed and tanned Air Supply and some blonde chick; The classic r&b one with Jerry (The Iceman) Butler and a handsome middle aged black woman (um, is she a singer too? I'll update later); The fifties and early sixties pop one with Bobby Rydell (wearing the most disturbing comb-over since Donald Trump) and a woman who could be the Air Supply girl's mother; and The Midnight Special Collection. Besides the seductive speaking voice of Peabo Bryson and Greg Brady's clenched teeth forced enthusiasm ("When can I take off this polyester print shirt and strangle my co-hostess with it?"), the best thing about these commercials are the musical clips: Marvin Gaye singing "Let's Get it On"; the bewigged Ronettes; the hilarious part in the Seventies pop one when the girl says, "The great thing about the Seventies is that there were so many cute guys!" and they proceed to show clips of Leo Sayer, Rupert Holmes and the troll-like guy who sang "Undercover Angel." Priceless! I want a cable channel exclusively devoted to music infomericals, and I want it now!

Sports Corner: Yeah, I know, smart guy! The Warriors got waxed by forty points last night. It's a character builder!

Literature Corner: I finished Richard Ford's "The Lay of the Land." I'm still letting it sink in, but I'll say this: Frank Bascombe (Ford's protagonist in three novels) is my favorite character in contemporary American literature--even if he gets on my nerves at points in the narratives. This year I re-read the first two books in what I guess we can now call the Frank Bascombe Trilogy--"The Sportswriter" and "Independence Day." "The Sportswriter" is still my favorite, but I liked the "Lay of the Land" a lot. I want to think about it some more, but I favor Ford's ruminations about America in the Bascombe novels more than I do Roth's in the Nathan Zuckerman novels (supposedly the final one is due next year). Not that I don't love me some Nathan Zuckerman! The odd thing is that I, KFS, dedicated pessimist, favor the ultimately optimistic Frank Bascombe over the mournful, disappointed optimist Nathan Zuckerman.

Interesting that both Bascombe and Zuckerman were struck with prostate cancer and Bascombe is a current resident of Jersey, Zuckerman's home state. Hey people, I think I got me a whole new imaginary literary thesis going here!

In other literary news: I'm reading Anton (The Man) Chekhov. I'm thinking of reading all of his short stories over the next year. If it's good enough for Francine Prose, Richard Ford and Janet Malcolm it's good enough for me.

Also, the ongoing crime novel project. I'm following the Psychedelic Eskimo's lead and reading Henning Mankell's Kurt Wallender series. More discussion on that in the future.

Music Corner: I've finally finished the "kPod's Top Jams of '06" Mixtape (available only on CD). Songs from or rereleased or new to me in '06.

I'm at song #2,081 (Waylon Jennings "Omaha") on the iPod.

Next up for discussion: The International Submarine Band, The state of The Gilmore Girls, and hopefully more positive Warriors news.

Warriors Worrier?

2006-12-03T09:37:00.000-08:00

Rooting for a long-troubled sports franchise like the Golden State Warriors is a lot like having suffered through a series of bad relationships. Will every relationship always be bad? Who will self-destruct first: you or your significant other? That's a screwed up way to deal with relationships, it goes without saying. One bad relationship does not have to color all your future ones and blah, blah, blah. Sorry to lapse into pop psychology speak, but I was just using the bad relationship metaphor to apply to the current Warriors' predicament after they've lost two close, sloppy games they should have won. Is it time to start panicking? Will the Warriors go into a December tailspin like last year? When will they start sniping at each other and Nellie?

I'm here to say this: Don't panic! This is a .500 team. This is how .500 teams play ball: up and down. We have Biedrins (sp?) and Ellis. They're young and learning. It's going to be like this for most of the season. Let's not worry about December. Let's see how they're doing in February. And let's see who gets traded...

Team Gilmore: Say what you will about a show that may be past its prime, you have to admire a TV show whose protagonist keeps making stupid, impulsive decisions (the latest: marrying Christopher) and then trying to convince herself she's made the right decision. A very human condition indeed. Maybe a metaphor for my Warrior Worrying?

Old School

2006-12-01T11:52:00.000-08:00

Another installment of the Alphabetical Listening Project. In this installment, we discuss some vinyl "I's"
Nothing makes you feel more like a forty two year old than when you're spinning Ice T's "Power" from 1988. My intense (and selective) Hip Hop listening years spanned from '88 to '91, which is kind of like saying you stopped listening to rock and roll after Buddy Holly's plane crash. So, laugh if you must, but Ice T still sounds good to me. A little dated, I guess, but not as dated if I really paid attention to rap lo these fifteen years (I still occasionally buy current hip hop, but I'm not very knowledgable).

Anyway, it's almost charming to listen to Ice T's cautionary tales about living the pimpin' life. Mostly he strikes a mild moral tone about the high rollin' street life, kind of like a mock-stern lecture you might get from your cool uncle. Ice T--the badass, avauncular rapper. T's badass tropes are more blaxploitation film than the gangsta narratives of the soon to be released revolutionary NWA and all that it spawned. T himself would get a lot more confrontational with one of his following releases, "Cop Killa."

If I'm not mistaken, Ice's rapping style something to Rakim and Malcolm X and old school Pimp Poets whose names I don't know. "Power"; "High Rollers"; "I'm Your Pusher"; "Soul on Ice" still sound good to me. For the carnally minded, you can ogle the scantily clad Mrs. Ice T holding a shot gun. Subtle!

Mr. Ice T can currently be seen 24-7 on the Law and Order/USA Network chasing sexual predators down dark alleys and bringing them to justice.

The other vinyl "I" for this time is the Impressions Greatest Hits. I also have an Impressions Greatest Hits on CD, but you can't have "Gypsy Woman" on too many formats, if you ask me. Curtis Mayfield has been my number one soul man of the past few years. The hooks, the groove, the orchestrations, the moral imperatives--Curtis is the man! My favorite underated Impressions song? "You Must Believe Me." Expect to hear it on my next mixtape!

Some thoughts on the fate of Vito, the gay gangster, in the Soprano's Season Six, Part One: David Chase made the right narrative decision to have Vito leave his small town escape to return to the Jersey action and his certain doom. Is Vito the cliched, doomed homosexual? Even though he's a brutal thug? I found it interesting that while Vito is being beaten to death (after being sold out by a Machiavellian Tony S), Ro Aprillio is lighting a candle for her son, Jackie, Jr., who I think was whacked by Vito back in Season Three or Four.

I'm back on the Sopranos bandwagon, for sure. When will this series end? I notice on Netflix that not only is a Season Six, Part Two listed (not available yet, obviously) but a Season Seven is listed as well. What gives? Maybe Tony will die from old age...

Empty Wallet Hodgepodge

2006-11-28T12:52:00.002-08:00

Thanks to the various illnesses of Heather Samuels and our multiple visits to the Vet's office, my record purchasing for the rest of the year will be non-existent. Plus, I have holiday purchases to make...

Which is to say that the entries for my favorite records of the year are all in. Am I prepared to discuss them? My iPod Shuffle Project has dominated my listening over the past seven weeks. Therefore, I haven't given my usual obsessive attention to new records in the past couple of months. I like to listen to music when I'm walking around, moodily gazing at the bare winter landscape, that sort of thing. So, I'll spend what's left of the year listening to the records at home and then say what I have to say about them. Plus, a couple of favorite new old discoveries as well...

At the Uncorrected Proof, Psychedelic Eskimo, Couch Terrorist household, we've been watching a lot of Sopranos lately. Sometimes I wonder if the show's been on too long, if motifs are repeated intentionally or out of creative stagnation, but then a subplot like Vito, the gay gangster on the lam, gives the show a fresh narrative shot (pun possibly intended?). Don't tell me what happens in the final episodes of Season 6, Part One, we'll be getting there this week...

It's only November but it's hard not to feel excited about the Warriors after watching them slug it out with the Spurs last night. Nellie has turned this team around, and there's no doubting the continuing development of Ellis and Biedrins. Opposing teams are paying attention to them--especially Ellis--and they're rising to the challenge. The W's will no doubt lose their share of games this season, but if they play this hard, it's going to be a hell of an entertaining season.

Finally, I'm back on the Russian literature. Recently finished Isaac Babel's Collected Stories. I know his reputation rests on The Red Cavalry Stories--the bespectacled Jew riding with the Cossacks, but the stories I dig the most are the Odessa Stories and some of the other autobiographical ones of Babel's boyhood. Babel's fellow Jews aren't saintly sufferers, they're just regular people--vain, proud, sweet, stupid, drunk, pious, funny, tragic. No doubt a model for Philip Roth's portrayals of New Jersey Jews. My Dad's people were from Odessa. So, a shout out to Isaac Babel, my homeboy.

Currently, I'm reading Chekhov stories ("The Kiss") and finishing up Richard Ford's "The Lay of the Land." More on that when I finish it.

Ending the Curse of '94

2006-11-27T17:31:00.000-08:00

When was the last time we Golden State Warriors fans had any hope? I submit that it was during the beginning of the '94-'95 season. It was Chris Webber's second season. The team had acquired Rony Seikaly in a trade. Latrell Sprewell and Tim Hardaway were in the back court. Chris Mullin was the other starting forward. What a lot of firepower! After all of those years of only getting into the second round of the playoffs (with Don Nelson as coach) it looked like maybe we had a contender. One of the basketball magazines even picked the W's as the favorite to win the NBA championship! Heady times!

The '94-'95 W's got off to a hot start, winning something like seven out of their first ten games. And they had done this without CWeb (NBA Rookie of the Year the previous season)who was sitting out the first part of the season because he wanted to renegotiate his contract, right? No? Actually, he wanted coach Don Nelson to be fired or himself traded. He put this ultimatum before the new owner (why? Nelson yelled at him a lot. Hey, maybe Magic Johnson and Michael Jordan could get their coaches fired, but not you, C Web). The owner ultimately sided with Nelson and traded Webber to Washington for the I-didn't-ask-to-be-in-the-middle-of-this Tom Gugliata (sp?). The W's are ripped apart. Some players rebel against Nelson, some say nothing and quietly seethe. An emotionally exhausted Nelson leaves the W's. The team goes on a so-far ten year tailspin. And how many championships has CWeb won since then? (a big, fat zero)

I recall all of this because the first game where it was evident that the W's were screwed was a Thanksgiving (1994) night matchup against the Indiana Pacers. The W's were shellacked, and went on to lose many, many more games that season. I also remember that game because Thanksgiving dinner turned out to be without doubt one of the most traumatic nights of my life, thanks to various insane members of my family behavin insanely. I'll write about that somewhere else...

My ultimate point is that ever since the traumatic Thanksgiving of '94, I've tied in the W's demise with my own fall and rise. The thing is, I've made the playoffs of life since '94, but the Warriors haven't. With an older and wiser Nellie back as coach will the W's rebound? Pun intended.

Culture Vulture

2006-11-16T14:24:00.000-08:00

The other night I was at work playing some of my own CD's over the stereo. A fella can only listen to so much KDFC (Death for Classical) per day. A "classical" music station owned by the Mormon Church whose programming is the Top 40 moldy oldies to pacify office working drones so that they won't kill their cubicle mate with a stapler. Anyway, how many fucking times can a person listen to the fucking "Four Seasons" and the "William Tell Overture"? We have to play it at the bookstore where I work because, you know, Classical Music is sophisticated, like you, the sensitive reader of literature...That's the theory anyway.

That's the sort of snobby thinking that makes me hate classical music and books and tasteful art films. If "art" doesn't have the sex and blood and laughs and misery in it, what's the frickin' point? You might as well just die in your easy chair, choked by your own good taste and PBS membership!

Anyway, I still happen to like so called classical music. Is Beethoven any less intense than Ozzy Osbourne? Is Stravinsky any less brain melting than the late work of John Coltrane? I have to remind myself that after another brain softening day or night "listening" to KDFC.

Anyway, anyway, I was playing some of Brahms's Piano Quartets in the store the other night. This guy comes up to me and says, "Thanks for the music. I work at the music conservatory." I've had plenty of people thank me for playing my own music before--everything from Sonny Rollins to the Zombies (don't tell the boss!)--but never "thanks for the classical music." That's because I went outside of the accepted playlist! I told the guy, "I thought I could improve on the usual KDFC claptrap." The guy stared at me uncomprehendingly, but that's not an unusual response to one of my obscure jokes.

Next week at work: The Late Beethoven Quartets! Yeahhhh Boyyyyyyyy!!!

I'll just say it now: Scritti Politti's White Bread Black Beer is my #1 album of 2006.

Finally, let's give the Gilmore Girls credit where credit is due. They didn't play horrible Hinder during the last episode--it was just the promo music. The episode featured French pop music and more music references than they'd had all season.

What with that and the Warriors' improved play, I'm beginning to wonder if this blog doesn't wield some sort of supernatural power to have people do my bidding...

The Emotional and Mystical Life of an iPod and Ice Cube

2006-11-14T14:35:00.000-08:00

I'm currently on song # 1,372 on my All the Way to Song #5,274 Project: "Hercules" by Aaron Neville.

Yesterday, I was walking down Clement Street to the bus stop on my way to work. Bruce Springsteen's "Thunder Road" came on the iPod. With the drizzle falling and cars whizzing by, I felt the excitement of the open road that Bruce sings about in the song. It excited me when I was a fifteen year-old trapped at home and it excites me today when I'm only trapped by my own self-assembled shackles...

Ten hours later, walking up that same hill toward home with a heavy mist hanging in the darkness, John Coltrane's "Crescent" began to play on the iPod. Oh mystical, meditative Coltrane playing in the mystical mist! The balm for this unimaginative wage slave!

Meanwhile, I spun Ice Cube's 1990 solo debut, "Amerikkka's Most Wanted" the other day. It's the first "I" record in my neglected Alphabetical Listening Project. Produced by Public Enemy's Bomb Squad. I'm no Hip Hop expert, but I think the record holds up pretty well. Doesn't sound dated, for the most part. Some of the raps are better than others. An interesting piece of work that states what's goin' on right before the LA riots/rebellion. I've always loved Ice Cube's voice. I also like the fact that the female rapper Yo Yo shows up on a track or two to call Cube on his endless use of the word "Bitch." And now Ice Cube is directing Hollywood comedies...

Reincarnation and Radical Changes of Subject

2006-11-12T17:47:00.000-08:00

It's been a while since I've written about Heather, my 15 year-old plus cat. Heather, my faithful pet, my excuse for avoiding social invites ("Gotta take care of my sick cat"). She has diabetes, a chronic (but treatable) bladder infection, intermittent constipation problems, occasional asthma, a bad tooth, and possibly a hyperthyroid condition. We've probably made close to forty trips to the vet in the past two years. I kid you not!

Still, she keeps kicking, albeit more slowly each year. Sure, she sleeps for most of the day, but she's still the Big H, The H Bomb. She may only have a couple of lives left, but she's still basically the same sweet natured cat, if a bit leakier than she used to be. In some ways, she's a lot like my late great grandmother, Miriam, who was the matriarch of my mother's family. She was tough as nails, opinionated, bossy. Four feet ten of 'tude! "Get your hair out of your eyes, you look like hell!" she yelled at three generations of us. "You're so handsome," she'd say to me, "why do you want to cover your face up with all that hair?"

"Nana," as we called her, had a defective heart, and was always going to the hospital for surgery or blood transfusions (the transfusions may be what finally killed her). Nana bounced back time and again. She lived to be eighty, which was really something when you consider how much she went through. A tough, funny, mean, beautiful lady. She used to make me sit with her and watch soap operas. She'd explain every character and their back story to me, and I'd find myself getting interested. I miss her. Sometimes I think there's a piece of her in the indomitable Heather, although H is a good deal more loveable.

Changing subjects, they say that a good deal of being a successful coach in the NBA is to get your players to buy what you're selling. It looks like the Warriors are buying what Don Nelson is selling. Not counting the first and third games of the season, the Warriors do look like a better team under Nellie. Baron Davis is playing at an all-star level; Jason Richardson is getting back in shape; Troy Murphy, and to a lesser extent, Mike Dunleavy, are fitting into the system. But the most thrilling thing is to see Mikael Pietrus (sp?), Monta Ellis, and Andrei Biedrins (sp?) blossom as players. One thing you can say for Nellie: he knows how to utilize the best in his players. You could single out Tim Hardaway, Chris Mullin, Mitch Richmond, and even the ultimately ungrateful Latrell Sprewell, and say Nelson is the one who initially guided their talents in the NBA (and that's just former Warriors, we're not even mentioning Steve Nash and Dirk Nowitski). Whether or not the Warriors make the playoffs, they'll be exciting to watch this season. Let's see if these words hold up.

Changing subjects again: Are there any other long time Gilmore Girls watchers that are with me when I ask the question, what happened to the cool music references? Remember how episodes used to feature the occasional XTC and Elvis Costello songs? Remember when the Shins appeared in the Spring Break episode? Remember when an episode wittily featured a Claudine Longet song after Lorelei made a Claudine Longet reference? All of that seems to be gone with the arrival of the new writing regime. Overall, I think the new head writer has, um, righted, the show, but I get worried when the background music for next weeks' episode is by some generic rockstar band like Hinder (according to my Youth Correspondent, The Psychedelic Eskimo). They really need to end the show gracefully this season!

Changing subjects again: Finished Season Three of The Wire. Brilliant! The execution of Stringer Bell by Brother Mouzon and Omar was almost too stylized, but ultimately I dug it (RIP Stringer). After all, my man George Pelecanos wrote the episode! (something tells me George P had a specific Western movie showdown in mind when he wrote the demise of Stringer scene)Somebody buy me Seasons Two and Three for hanukah, please?

On the subject of HBO shows:Just beginning Season Six of the Sopranos. Nobody writes a dream sequence filled with psychological questing like David Chase. I think it's the most psychologically rich of the HBO shows.

Currently listening to a recent purchase: Archie Shepp's "Attica Blues." "What's Going On" meets Charles Mingus meets Leroi Jones/Amiri Baraka. A definite period piece with good music and vocals of varying quality.

Borat and Babel

2006-11-03T12:14:00.000-08:00

All week long I've been watching Sacha Baron Cohen making the rounds of the comedy chat shows in the guise of his Borat character. As everyone knows, the Borat movie is out this week, and Cohen has been promoting the film. What's been impressive is that he's stayed within the Borat character in every appearance. Also impressive is that he's managed to improvise some funny schtick with hosts David Letterman, Conan O'Brian, and John Stewart (I suppose you could say that Larry the Cable Guy also does the chat shows in character, but in this writer's opinion, he ain't too funny). Any number of cultural critics have been writing pieces on the meaning of Borat as a clever commentary on bigotry (the anti-Semitic Borat is portrayed by an observant Orthodox Jew), yadda, yadda, etc. Is Borat a comical caricature of the rabidly anti-Semitic Eastern Europeans of recent yore(the ghost of the stupid, bullying Jew Hater)? Is he, as some have worried/criticized, a manifestation of S.B. Cohen's own Jewish self-hatred? Is Borat a commentary on this historical hall of mirrors?

Anyway, all of this ruminatin' got me thinking about Isaac Babel, the Odessan Jewish intellectual who rode with the Cossacks during the Russian Revolution and lived to write about it--until he was executed by Stalin. In his "Red Army" stories, Babel writes with a combination of fascination and loathing as he rides with the men who killed his own people in numerous pogroms. The very short story, "Crossing into Poland," perfectly captures Babel's mixed feelings. The narrator and his fellow soldiers occupy a Jewish home in Novograd. The narrator describes the wrecked Jewish home with a combination of disgust--"...human filth, fragments of the occult crockery the Jews use only once a year, at Eastertime"(he means the Passover dishes, which were the pride of this impoverished family. Also, interesting that he says"at Eastertime") and shame ("Faint hearted poverty closed in over my couch"). The narrator's conscience is pricked. When he falls asleep he has bad dreams. He is awakened by a young Jewish girl who points out that he is sleeping next to the corpse of her father who was slaughtered by the Poles. She makes him up a new bed and then asks, "I wish to know where in the whole world you could find another father like my father?"

The narrator doesn't answer and the tormented Jewish girl has the final words of the story. She is its true conscience.

Um, so how did I get to that from Borat? I guess what I'm saying is that Borat is Sasha Baron Cohen's madcap comical version of the Jew riding with the Cossacks.

In the meantime, I'm currently listening to Andrew Hill's Grassroots record. An interesting mix of Andrew Hill music, soul and Latin jazz. The CD release features alternate takes with a different lineup, so it's sort of like getting two records for the price of one.

The Sublime and the Third Quarter

2006-11-02T11:28:00.000-08:00

Let's start with sublime: Andrew Hill at Herbst Theater! Sometimes you go to a live musical show and can feel your molecules rearranging and your spirit expanding. I've been listening to jazz composer/pianist Andrew Hill for a while now, but I realized on Sunday night that I still have a lot of work to do. As some critics have pointed out, he's not a dazzling pianist, and his compositions can sound "monochromatic," but all of a sudden he throws in harmonies and colors that are breathtaking and deeply moving. I found myself with a lump in my throat several times throughout the show. Hill often uses Afro Cuban rhythms that give his strange compositions a hypnotic drive. I thought of Ellington and Mingus, although Hill isn't as dramatic as those masters. Still, his music sneaks up on you and keeps you thinking about it long after you've heard it. Sign me up for the Andrew Hill army!

Now for the ridiculous: the third quarter of the Warriors' season opener last night. Um, am I the only person who thought they looked like the same exact team as last season? Maybe because they have the same players lapsing into the same bad habits?
Will Don Nelson's style of play really elevate the games of Pietrus and Dunleavy? Didn't look like it to me. Monta Ellis and Ike Diogou looked much better than those two, although I wonder about Diogou's defense—or maybe I should just say The Warriors defense. They made Lamar Odom (of the Lakers) look like the second coming of Michael Jordan. Phooey! Still, it was only one game, and Jason Richardson looked like he needs a few games to get into condition. At times Baron Davis looked fantastic (but then, we've seen that before). I just don't see how he's going to last the whole season. And Jesus Christ, make those free throws! Not good to have your home crowd booing you on the opening night. A real stinker of a game!

I'm currently reading Richard Ford's "The Lay of the Land"--the third book in the Frank Bascombe trilogy, and Richard Aleas's "Little Girl Lost"--part of the Hard Case crime fiction series. More on that in the future.

iPod of the Damned

2006-10-27T14:11:00.000-07:00

The other day my iPod was approaching song #666 on its ongoing shuffle to song #5,274. What song would it be? Iron Maiden's "Number of the Beast?" Pretty close, actually. It was Robert Johnson's "Me and the Devil Blues." I shit you not! It's one of Bob's most tormented songs (the protagonist is so haunted by his devils and The Devil that he's going to "Beat my woman 'till I get satisfied").
Song #667 was by The Zombies, so maybe my iPod has a sense of humor, is a monster, or just wanted to celebrate Halloween early.

Seen some great shows this month: Sufjan Stevens at Zellerbach—very heavy on songs from "Seven Swans." Orchestrated the way Mr. Stevens must have always wanted to do, and now can since he's working with a bigger budget.

The Easy Star All-Stars were good. A great band, but marked down because they had an annoying white hippie lady who sang some of their songs. The other guys, especially the guitarist and the toaster/singer who sort of looked like Flavor Flav (without the big clock or the insanity) interpreted the Radiohead and Pink Floyd songs very well. It would be great to see these guys back a world class Reggae singer like Horace Andy or Sugar Minott or Toots Hibbert.

The other night The Psychedelic Eskimo and I went to see English folk legend Bert Jansch at the Great American Music Hall. Another terrific show! Bert's still got it on the guitar (soulful virtuosity, always respecting the song), and his voice is pretty much the same, if a little lower in timber. Apparently, Neil Young was there, watching from the upstairs seats.

Looking forward to seeing Andrew Hill on Sunday night.