Place your paw on the heartbeat of American music at this week’s featured show at Bottom of the Hill tomorrow (that’s Tuesday, 7/30/2013). First up we have Shakey Graves, a visitor from Texas, who makes journeyman bluegrass rocking with southern afternoon rhythms and toe-tapping, tumbling refrains. I tried to pick a single track to give you a taste, but loved the entirety of his album Roll The Bones so much I featured it whole.
Second on tap is The Sam Chase, a former Nostos Nic Pick of the Week. Don’t let the dusty, high-noon-in-the-wild-west aesthetic fool you: this feller serves flawless folk punk centered on his guitar, which “runs on diesel and leaks like the morning after too much Whiskey,” and his vocals, which bring a raw immediacy to his musical mischief.
Finally we have The Creak, a feel-good extenuation of the American musical tradition; this is modern bluegrass at it’s best, true to its roots yet proud of the present as showcased in the band’s epic cover art and clever lyrics. The Creak’s album Here, Hold This is sweet, subtle and instantly addictive in a way that will have you humming and air-strumming in the unawares.
Today I worked in the yard. Then tonite I went roller skating with T.T. with Paul. Afterwards we went the Gaylords for refreshments, ping-pong, etc.
When Paul took me home he told me I was real cute & a bunch of other stuff. I’m crazy I know but it just didn’t affect me. Here he carried on about how nice I was & everything it didn’t even please me where-as if Bob would have just told me (he wasn’t there) it was a nice day I’ed get goose-pimples down & up my spine. Early in the evening Nancy told me Joan Sterns had told her that her & “Bob” were going out tomorrow evening. Nancy also said he went to a beach party tonite. Well, that started it. All night I kept thinking about him. And when Paul was kissing me good-night, I was thinking about Bob & what he was doing then & of all the good-times we’ve had together & how guilty I felt about kissing Paul. Then when I got in the house I started thinking more & more about Bob. And then absent-mindedly I started singing “I Wonder Whose Kissing Him Now” & “You Made Me Love You” and “I Wish I Didn’t Love You So” and now I realize another thing. When I used to come home from a date with Bob, I used to go straight to sleep. But with Paul, I have to wash & brush my teeth. I wonder if that means anything! Another thing, I’m beginning to appreciate the way Bob kissed me. It was much more smoother, softer, lighter, spine-tinglinger, etc. etc. When Paul kisses me, its blah, blaah & more blaah. On the whole it was a nice evening. Ritchie brock up with Zella. Hip-Hip-Hooray. I wonder why. I looked very nice in the new slacks I got yesterday. Got in at 12:50.
Editorial Note:
Oh, poor Lois. Just for kicks, try to envision Lois moping around her room singing “You Made Me Love You” and pretending she’s Doris Day, a la this amazingly Technicolor video:
This here is one of my all-time favorite artists: Otis Redding. No other performer is able to capture the gut-punching urgency of love like this man, in this song. His voice, oh his voice is thick with the consumption of love as he forces the soul of each word into the microphone. Beatific.
Aaaaaahhhhhh, Courtney Love–the train wreck we love to hate but secretly hope never fades from the limelight permanently. Let’s be honest: people like Courtney Love serve a vital purpose within our society as benchmarks for our self-esteem barometer. Loves the world over are a means to gauge how we’re doing on a personal level, a way to compare ourselves to the “rich and famous” and say, “At least I didn’t fall off a barstool and flash my southernmost private parts to the entire MTV audience, crew, and a music icon.” This is the same reason an old roommate of mine would watch the show 16 and Pregnant when she was depressed: no matter how bad her day was, at least she wasn’t sixteen…and pregnant.
I have a soft-spot for Ms. Love, forever the former Mrs. Cobain, because she was omnipresent during my formative listening years; this means I had no choice but to like her (the proverbial cop-out). Her hot-messness aside, she musically explores what it means to be a woman in the world and this feminist angle hasn’t been adequately explored because she often gets in her own way. Okay, she ALWAYS gets in her own way but hear me out on this tangent. Take, for example, the song “Doll Parts” from Hole’s album Live Through This, released in 1994, in which Love discusses society’s perception of women as playthings (dolls), how it forces women to regress into infantile desires (for cake) to get attention and the effect of this dynamic (turning women fake, making them ache). She’s pissed, and wants you to ache like she aches:
“I am doll eyes
Doll mouth, doll legs
I am doll arms, big veins, dog bait
Yeah, they really want you, they really want you, they really do
Yeah, they really want you, they really want you, but I do too
I want to be the girl with the most cake
I love him so much it just turns to hate
I fake it so real, I am beyond fake
And someday, you will ache like I ache
Someday, you will ache like I ache
I am doll parts
Bad skin, doll heart
It stands for knife
For the rest of my life
Yeah, they really want you, they really want you, they really do
Yeah, they really want you, they really want you, but I do, too
I want to be the girl with the most cake
He only loves those things because he loves to see them break
I fake it so real, I am beyond fake
And someday, you will ache like I ache
Someday you will ache like I ache”
In 1998, Love released what I believe to be her second best album to Live Through This which is Celebrity Skin. On the title track of this album she refers to herself as a “walking study in demonology”–an admission that she is routinely vilified in the press, and rightfully so as her behavior is erratic and often violent. (For more enlightenment on this facet of Courtney, I recommend watching Kurt & Courtney from BBC documentary filmmaker Nick Broomfield). However, she is singled-out as particularly heinous where the same type of behavior from her male counterparts are often begrudgingly accepted as part of the rock and roll effect. That makes Courtney Love a fascinating specimen in our search to understand the perception of women in our current culture, particularly because she is so self-aware and open if not tragically unwilling to clean up her act. But should she have to? That is the question.
Now, I am in no way (I repeat: I AM NOT) advocating Love as the pinnacle of feminist mystique, but I do commend her on the courage it takes to be Courtney Love in all her grotesque glory; she is nothing if not consistent. From Hole’s video for “Violet” (featured above) where you can clearly see Kurt’s influence and understand his fascination with her to the video for “Celebrity Skin” (seen below) which showcases her attempt to professionally rebirth herself as the movie star rocker chick, Courtney Love lives her life on a public stage and forces us to confront her and what she represents. Whatever your feelings are about this, you can explore them in the flesh when she plays The Independent here in San Francisco tonight. A truly a throwback Thursday if there ever was one.
Hold on, hold on, hold the phone: a song that references Theodor Adorno and Noam Chomsky?! I have been persuaded (couldn’t resist the pun) that this song by Faded Paper Figures delivers on every level: intelligent, thought provoking lyrics that forces we as listeners to examine our consumer culture and its effect on the human condition and our planet set to a repetitive tune which evokes the robotic. Genius. You need to buy and own this album. Wait…damn it.
“He won’t know Adorno
He’s an adult with an adcult
You can buy your way into his head
He was never better
Wearing sneakers and a sweater
Made by 12-year-olds sweating in Shenzhen
He says,
Let’s drive, drive, drive
Till we burn, burn, burn,
We can choke on it later on tonight
And we’ll fumble with the planet
Dry the river and then damn it
Just persuade me that everything’s all right.
This was his reality,
says the stupid love equality
And he’s never seen a car he didn’t like
On code like a reptilian
Pays Rapaille another billion
From your cortex to the page is just a hike.
So Let’s drive, drive, drive
Till we burn, burn, burn,
We can choke on it later tonight
And we’ll fumble with the planet
Dry the river, then we’ll damn it
Just persuade me that everything’s all right.
Because things…we’ve got to have our things.
We’re not persuaded by the Omnicom
We’re not persuaded we’re the only ones
We’re not persuaded by hegemony
We’re not persuaded we were ever free
Is that your conscience, or are you alone?
Is that Noam Chomsky on the telephone?”
Went in town to usher for 3 wishes for Jaime it was terrific.
Nancy’s party was a lot of fun. Played ping-pong –vollyball – bad-mintin & danced. Bob was there. Joan Sterns managed to stick her hooks into him. So when I saw what she had done I asked him if he would take me home. He sayed yes much against his will. Coming home (he took Joan home too of course) he took Joan home first as it was closer. As soon as he had walked her to her to her door, he came back. As we pulled away he started to tell me that “I was very inconsiderate and I knew darn well I could’ve gotten a ride home with someone else, and why in the world did I do it and for a girl that thought she had brains I sure acted awful.” I felt like telling him what kind of a girl Joan is, but I guess its up to him to find out for himself. He’s sure in for a big letdown. When he asked me why I did it I felt like telling him 7 little words. “All is fair, in love and war.” But I didn’t. I didn’t say a word coming home when we got to my house I opened my door & sayed good-night. He turn off the ignition & walked me to the door (almost that is—to the breeze way) he then sayed I should forget what he said. I then said “I guess you were right.” He said he was, said good-night & started to leave. I then sayed “would you like to know why I did it.” He sayed yes & I said “never mind – good-night – have a good time tomorrow.” I went straight to my room with out saying a word to the folks who were in the living room and for no reason at all I started crying. I got undressed & no sooner did I get into bed when mom came in. She asked what was the matter, I told her nothing that I just wanted to get to sleep as I was tired. I guess I didn’t sound very convincing as she persisted in asking what was wrong & why was I crying & who brought me home. I told her Bob did & she then asked if I was crying cause he didn’t kiss me good-night or something like that. I said no which was the truth. She then asked if it were about some other guy I then told her that I’ve never cryed over any guy other than Bob & I wasn’t starting in now and as it was it was only the second time I was crying over him.
I hope he askes Joan out soon so he’ll find out as soon as possible how & what she really is. I still yern for him and long for his kisses and most of all his love.
Editorial Note:
Los Angeles Philharmonic Auditorium
Lois ushered for a production of Three Wishes For Jamie directed by Albert Lewis that was staged at the Philharmonic Auditorium in Los Angeles. An integral facet of the architecturally significant ring around Pershing Square, the Auditorium was a Southern California belle until the L.A. Philharmonic left her for the flashier digs of the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion in 1964. This move sealed old Audi’s fate, and she met the wrecking ball in 1985 (because Los Angeles City Planners have no soul). For a touching tribute to the old dame, read this article from the Los Angeles Times titled ‘Mildred Pierce’ remembers downtown L.A.’s Philharmonic Auditorium.
Nostos Algos 