Almost as good as the site about men who look like Kenny Rogers. I guess they have championships for everything now, huh? Courtesy of Jilly.
Song now playing: Olivia Tremor Control - "Jumping Fences"
w9.29.2003
This "do-not-call" list business is getting interesting. There have been so many back-and-forths on this thing that I am getting dizzy. Thankfully, I've never been the recipient of many telemarketing calls, just an occasional call from a credit card company or a long-distance thing, but on average I'd say once per month. I hang up on them immeadiately. One time I did buy a subscription to Consumer Reports, though, to benefit Mothers Against Drunk Driving. The thing is, who really knows how much of my money actually goes to MADD? That's the, uh, maddening part. I never know if any charitable contribution is actually going to the charity. I gave quite a bit of money to the Red Cross for September 11th, but who knows? I think I should receive a specific, itemized list of what my donation was used for. That would be quite interesting, wouldn't it? For example, maybe my donation paid for a night's stay at a hospital for one of the victims. Oh well.
Anyway, the "do-not-call" list is a godsend for us, the 690,000,000 people who live in the United States shouldn't have to receive telephone calls in the privacy of our own homes if we don't want to. Why should we? And yes, I checked the population number. 690,000,000. I believe I've met 1,256 of them.
Now, I would imagine this gentleman had very good reason for doing what he did. I'm sure he just had to watch the season premiere of CSI, right? Of course. Then it's justified. By the way, I'm starting to get into Alias. Seems like a great little show......
Song now playing: Spoon - "Jonathan Fisk"
w9.25.2003
Guest blogger today........the guy from the Folger's Crystals television commercials! What an honor!
Um, yeah (clears throat), hello there. Testing, testing. One, two? One, two? We clear? Ready? Okay (clears throat, and in deep voice......):
At a recent Boston Red Sox game, we secretly replaced Jeff Copetas's digital camera with a Minolta SRT 35mm, including a telephoto lens - let's see how he reacts!
Song now playing: Led Zeppelin - "The Rain Song"
w9.24.2003
Those of us who are Red Sox fans will laugh with equal amusement and pain at this listing, which my friend Matt forwarded me a few moments ago. It's from Craigslist.org, which is really quite an incredible site. I recently purchased a perfectly functional and almost new washer and dryer on Craigslist for a combined $350. Good stuff.
Song now playing: Nick Lowe - "And So It Goes"
w9.23.2003
I've come to the realization that Stevie Nicks just plain sucks. I have a very high appreciation and respect for the '70s gold sounds of Fleetwood Mac - authors of so many great pop songs, and I always lumped Nicks in there with them. Thinking about it in golf terms, though, she got a total mulligan in all facets of the game. In the 1970s, she got by on a distinctive (note I didn't say "good") voice and the fact that she was all spinning, scarfy, witchy and mysterious, not to mention good looking. All of her strongest songs featured Lindsay Buckingham singing at equal volume with her: "The Chain," "Never Going Back Again" and "Second Hand News," among others. Now think about the ones she sings on her own: "Rhiannon," "Landslide," "Gypsy," and one of her worst ever, "Dreams." Dreams is the utterly painful one where you can't figure out one single phrase she's singing other than "thunder only happens when it's raining."
See what I mean here? She sucks and I cannot even understand half her lyrics because when she sings it sounds like she's had 47 vodkas. It sounds so slurred. Her solo career only adds fuel to my argument. "Edge of Seventeen" might be one of the single worst songs ever made - "Just like the wide winged dove?" Come on. Give me a break. However, look at her collaborations: singing with Tom Petty on "Stop Draggin' My Heart Around" - now that was a good song; I never made a final decision on "Leather and Lace," the one Nicks sang with Don Henley, but I don't think it's as horrendous as Rhiannon or anything. There is one song, however, where Nicks shines, and that song is "Silver Springs." For some reason, she pulls this one off without reminding me of sitting in the passenger seat in the 1970s in the musty smell of my family's old Mercury Cougar or Ford Mustang, dried out, cracked dashboards and all. The smell was a combination of the intense humidity of the northeast and stale cigarette smoke. My parents were big smokers, a habit they've long since abandoned, thankfully. By the way, what was up with those vinyl seats in the '70s? The heat and humidity back then caused the vinyl seats to loosly resemble the feeling like you were sitting on the sun.
Anyway, I acknowledge that it's a unique theory - a person who sucks singing solo in a song, but sounds mostly great in duets. I suppose it's better than Linda McCartney, right?
Warren Zevon - "I'll Sleep When I'm Dead" (how weird is that???)
w9.22.2003
This is one of my favorite times of the year. The weather is usually just perfect which means it's optimized for sleeping, the pennant races are really heating up, football season is getting underway and the leaves undergo their usual wonderous transformation that we've grown accustomed to here in New England - a transformation I still marvel at and appreciate every time. It remains to be seen how much I'll appreciate it when they begin to fall into my new yard, though. Check with me later on that one.
Given their history, it might be too early to get excited about the Red Sox making the playoffs, but it certainly does seem like it would take a meltdown of epic proportions for the Sox not to make it to post-season play this year. Even if they don't make it, this year's playoffs promise to be a barn-burner - we've got all eight teams who seem to have a legitimate shot at winning it all, a far cry from the mid-1990s when there were between 2 and 4 teams that seemed to - yawn - be there every year. In retrospect, the 1990s may go down as one of the more underwhelming decades of baseball because of that very fact. While baseball does seem to be trying to fix their hideous class-based, market driven system, it seems they are still a long ways away before that black mark goes away and the talent field is distributed evenly again. Personally, I can't wait until talent and player evaluation again dictates who fields the best teams. Not sure how long we're all willing to wait for that to happen. Some good signs, though.....
Another good thing about September is the slew of returning TV shows with new episodes. Myself, I've been anxiously awaiting the return of new episodes from NYPD Blue, CSI, American Dreams and Everybody Loves Raymond. I'm being cautious about my expectations for Ed - will the show jump the shark now that Ed and Carol (hi, Julie Bowen) have hooked up? I hope not. There have been previous episodes of Ed that I would rank as having the best writing of any TV show in the last 15 years. I hope they can keep the train rolling.
Song now playing: Clem Snide "Long Lost Twin"
w9.19.2003
So ten years ago, this is what I was playing on my radio show at Kent State, on a Saturday morning at 6am......
WKSR playlist - Saturday, April 25, 1993:
Fishbone - "Sunless Saturday" Lou Reed - "Heroin" Pearl Jam - "Dirty Frank" Faith No More - "We Care A Lot" Henry Rollins - "Low Self-Opinion" Book of Love - "Alice Everyday" Temple of The Dog - "Pushin' Forward Back" Mother Love Bone - "Holy Roller" Opus - "Live is Life" Cracker - "Teen Angst (What The World Needs Now)" REM - "Driver 8" King's X - "The World Around Me" King's X - "Prisioner" Graham Parker - "Get Started, Start A Fire" (great song!) Dramarama - "Train Going Backwards" Sugarcubes - "Motorcycle Mama" Screaming Trees - "Shadow Of The Season" Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds - "John Finn's Wife"
Song now playing: Jello Biafra - "We Gotta Get Out Of This Place"
w9.18.2003
On my way to work each morning, I have to drive by this completely stupid scene:
In case you cannot read what the tall mailbox says, it says "AIR MAIL" on it. Can you imagine how embarassing this must be if there are teenagers living there? Even if there aren't any teenagers. I mean, can you imagine seeing this in a catalog or a magazine and honestly telling yourself it would make an amazing addition to your lawn? I need to interview these people.
w9.17.2003
The people of Seattle, Washington ought to be ashamed of themselves. They've voted down a measley .10 cent tax on coffee products, the extra revenue would have been directed at pre-school and early education programs. Are you serious, Seattle? You're not willing to pay an extra dime for coffee? My favorite quote is this one:
"But Jeff Babcock, owner of Zoka Coffee and Roasters, who led the protests, said: 'It's not a luxury item as far as the culture here is concerned. It's a cold, wet, damp environment. Coffee's big and everyone loves their lattes.'"
This guy led the protests? This quote makes him sound like he's dumber than a box of rocks. What he's saying is that since it's cold there, people shouldn't have to pay the extra ten cents because coffee is a central functionality of the human body, made to ward off the evil cold weather? Give me a flippin' break.
Song now playing: Ramsay Midwood - "Monster Truck"
w9.15.2003
There always seems to be an occasion to find wierd shit when you move. My recent move was no exception. Upon emptying an old trunk I've been carrying with me for nearly ten years now, I came across a few tapes from my college radio show on WKSR - 6-10am on Saturdays during my junior year. Momentarily paralyzed by fear because I have no means to listen to these, I wondered what to do. Then I remembered that my car actually has a tape player! Oh yes, the way to work was going to be interesting....
......and it was. For example, why was I so excited to be playing not one - but two - new songs by the band King's X? What on Earth prompted me to play the song "Live is Life" - a great old 80s tune - after Mother Love Bone and before Cracker? (Extra Credit for anyone that can tell me who sang "Live is Life" without searching the internet first). Speaking of Cracker, how odd is it that before I played the song "Teen Angst," I was talking about "the great new band called Cracker." Then I realized it's been over ten years since I did these shows and how glad I am that I have them documented. In the next few days, as I listen to more of these, I'll lay out some playlists here.......but it's a great trip down memory lane. One specific memory I have is getting to the radio station at 5:45am on Saturday morning for my shift and finding three straight ten minute songs because I was just too out of it to concentrate on pushing buttons every three minutes, so I programmed them and just went and sat in the bathroom in perfect silence for a half an hour. I rarely went to bed on Friday's before doing my show. It made for some interesting times.
Finally got around to watching The Pianist last night. What a film. I still cannot believe there was a time where things like The Holocaust were actually happening. There were a few moments in this film where I just cringed - feeling sick, embarrassed for the dark sides of human nature and really sad. It just hurts to even think about it too much......nonetheless, quite a good movie.
Song now playing: Gram Parsons - "Brass Buttons"
w9.12.2003
Gosh, first Warren Zevon and now Johnny Cash. Death in any form is sad, of course, but we knew this one was coming for quite a few years. Nonetheless, this is the death of a legend - a character who clearly transcended just music. Even if you've never heard a lick of his music, you knew who he was - testament to his staying power, his importance and cultural signifigance in our world.
I came around to Johnny Cash fairly late in life, probably in my early 20s when I inherited some vinyl records from a high school friend and "The Essential Johnny Cash" was included as part of my new gaggle of albums stuffed into a milk crate. Much like Cash himself, the album was a little weathered, encased in a tough exterior - that strong, heavy, musty-smelling cardboard they used to put records in. It was a time in my life when my appreciation of music really turned the corner and started becoming a flat-out obsession and it's when I realized that certain forms of folk and country music were a crucial and important piece of the American fabric. Country music is, perhaps, one of the more controversial, misunderstood pieces of the American musical landscape. It's name over the past 20 years or so has been utterly wiped dry and destroyed with negativity and metaphor because of the way the music business has been coldly turned into a mindless machine of bottom lines, glitz, cookie-cutter "hat-and-boot" babes and very little taste or substance - everything Johnny Cash wasn't. Despite it all, he continued to have the respect of everyone with the exception of country music radio, which is riddled and ridiculed with the gutless smear of payola - whoever pays the most plays the most. So it was with great satisfaction a few years back when I, probably in the peak of my music-crazed obsession of running a record label and having to beg extra pizza crusts off my roommates because I couldn't afford to buy food, that I opened Billboard magazine and found an ad, taken out by Cash's small record label, thanking "country music radio for all the support in helping him to win a Grammy" and placing the following picture - both big in size and sarcasm.......:
.........in a full page ad! In Billboard magazine - THE bible of the music business! That's why I liked the guy so much. Bigger than life and now bigger than death. Johnny Cash not only said so much for the oppressed, the downtrodden and the down-and-out, he was just one of those monumental personalities that made him so much more than just a country singer. He was one of those people that, even though he stood 6-feet-tall or so, it always seemed like he stood 9 feet tall. Over the past few years, Cash had been wracked with physical problems and the recent death of his longtime wife couldn't have had him in a great place emotionally - in this sense I feel a bit of relief that his struggles are over. His legacy is one of a kind - and we will have his music forever, his unstoppable, deep, tremendous voice and dark sense of humor. Moreover, his grand and thoroughly impressive library of memories is all neatly sorted for us in track listings on vinyl records and compact discs, so we, our children and their children can continue celebrating his life long after the news of his death slowly drops off the presses. What more of a legacy could anyone ask for? There will never be another Man In Black.
Even more shocking today is the news of John Ritter's death, proof positive that even doctors can't find problems - proof positive that we should appreciate every damn second we have while we're here. For me and probably everyone else, Ritter will be most remembered for his role as Jack Tripper, from the one-trick pony sitcom "Three's Company." I do, however, have a specific memory of Three's Company that makes me chuckle, for this television show was the very first instance of Peer Pressure - the need to fit in - that I can remember personally affecting me. I seem to recall that two of my friends in 3rd or 4th grade, Shep and Bruce (forgive me if I have the wrong people here, but I believe this is who it was) were always talking about how much they enjoyed the show. I believe at the time I was pretty non-plussed by it, but professed my undying love of it regardless, simply to fit in. It wasn't until years later that I did actually grow to enjoy the show, at that time relegated to syndication and re-runs. Same story every week, yet still funny. Must be the actors - and Ritter of course was the centerpiece. I didn't pay much mind to Ritter again until the movie Slingblade, when he turned in a fantastic performance as the gay family friend. By all tokens, it seems Ritter was well-respected and a good man. Sad day.......
It all seems fitting, though, doesn't it? I mean, surely Warren Zevon has got to be chuckling a little bit today, for he's right back in the shadows again after a short ride in the spotlight. He's right back where he was when he was alive.......I'm sure the irony is not lost on anyone who was a fan.
Finally, to cast a little goofy light on today, I offer you this - I'm tickled by this fella's gumption, but goofily saddened by the fact that he couldn't find anything better to do with his time.
Song now playing: Silver Jews - "Federal Dust"
w9.11.2003
Quick comments on the second anniversary of the September 11th attacks: I was driving down Route 128, heading south, when I heard the news that day. A plane had crashed into one of the World Trade Center buildings. At the time, it wasn't a horrific, major news story yet. In fact, that's all they knew. They didn't know how big the plane was and had no other assessment of the situation. In fact, they had one witness on the radio who said it was just a small Cessna-type plane. Ten minutes later I was pulling into Natick, the second plane had just hit, and the radio station had switched to a New York feed, where they were calling over the air for every available firefighter and policeman to get to the WTC as soon as possible. Now I knew. I remember the first thing I thought was "geez, I really hope nobody's hurt." How naive and odd is that? That's how......numb I was to the whole situation. Common sense told me a lot of people were hurt/dead, but somehow I kept trying to tell myself - to convince myself - that maybe, just maybe, nobody got hurt. Wow.
Here's a little pic of myself and my friend Leo, taken in front of the fabled Green Monster at Fenway Park after the Bruce Springsteen show. I am flat-out bragging!
The lovely Stephanie has recently gotten me hooked on cheese sticks. I don't mean Cheetos (ick), I mean those sticks of real cheese. It's kind of like being a kid again - you just keep pulling down little strings of cheese, string-by-string, and eating them until it's all gone. Yum. Cheese sticks. Of course, this sucks for her, because when we buy them she doesn't get them all. But I'm trying to be minimalist. This is not the case with ice cream - I am, uh, maximist in that department.
After three years, I'm thinking about changing my hair. I'm not sure if it's because I've moved out of the city and perhaps I feel I need a change to make me feel more hip or maybe I'm just bored. I may, in fact, grow a mullet. I mean, why the hell not? I've already grown a soul patch, although I'm not quite sure how long that will last. I'm totally rambling......
I have two stories, both of them intertwined. Warren Zevon passed away yesterday. What a truly sad day for music. Zevon was one of rock's most original personalities and as clever a lyricist as there ever was. Like many others, I discovered Zevon at some point, I would guess sixth or seventh grade, through one song - "Werewolves Of London," which was clearly his biggest hit. Many people only know him for that one, which is fine, but those people are doing themselves a tremendous dis-service by not seeking out his string of albums from the late 1970s, which measure up with any solo artist of that time. "Lawyers, Guns and Money" and "Excitable Boy" were hits, though not as widespread as "Werewolves...." and songs like "Roland the Headless Thompson Gunner" really showcased his bizarre and clever wit. Anyway, Zevon had well-documented problems with alcohol, which derailed a lot of his work in the '80s and he was a heavy smoker, which probably contributed to his death from lung cancer, but he had enjoyed a bit of a renaissance with his last two albums and gained a lot of press for his fight with cancer, which lasted about a year. Specifically, a very emotionally-crushing VH1 special which aired a few weeks ago that documented the making of his last album, The Wind, which he made after given the diagnosis and knowing he didn't have long. My bet is that VH1 will run it again now that's he's passed away - do yourself and favor and take the 40 minutes to watch it. Zevon was not a pioneer by any stretch, nor was he some magical, musical tour-de-force - the guy was just good, solid, clever entertainment and this morning the music business is just a little less interesting. Rest in peace.....
"Dry your eyes, my little friend Let me take you by the hand Freddie get ready Rock steady When Johnny strikes up the band"
In retrospect, the irony was not lost on me that on the day Warren Zevon passed away, I found myself on the hallowed grounds on Fenway Park, in the 7th row to see one of Warren Zevon's good friends, Bruce Springsteen. I really hadn't known for sure I was going to be attending this show until Saturday afternoon, although I did have a decent notion I'd make it in. I probably will have a difficult time putting into words what last night meant to me. Aside from being an absolutely perfect night to sit outside, there were so many other great things happening. First and foremost was being able to walk around on the field at Fenway Park, a place where so many of us have dreamed we'd stand in a Red Sox uniform someday. The 11 year old wide-eyed boy came out in me when I stood at third-base (they left the infield intact for the show, but fenced), imagining myself running home to score a run or diving for a screaming line-drive down the third-base line. To stand there and just look around this beautiful park from the player's perspective was a truly moving experience for me. That sweet combination of perfectly trimmed grass, the "Fenway" green facades and the perfectly blue/pink twilight sky was just such an incredible experience. We stood on the warning track in right center field and ate a hot dog and drank a beer. We walked down both foul lines in the outfield. We stood right at the base of Green Monster in left field. Other than being able to run the bases, we took in every last part of the field that was available to us and it was just a dream come true - and the show hadn't even started yet!
Oh, the show. Yeah. Well, suffice it to say that 7th row for a Bruce Springsteen concert isn't the same thing as 7th row at a niteclub, ok? Nonetheless, Bruce Springsteen puts just about every other traveling rock show to utter, pitiful shame. Now in his '50s and sporting a few sprouting gray hairs, the guy puts out more energy, more showmanship and more personality than any band I've seen, and I've seen lots. And yes, he did literally hang upside down on the microphone stand. Sure, some of Springsteen's recent songs are hit and miss (oh, the pun...), but the guy knows what he's doing - he knows what people are there to see, and he delivers. So when they launched into what I consider to be the highlights, stunning renditions of "Spirit in the Night," "Jungleland," and "Because the Night" it gave me actual, real, chills of which I've only experienced maybe three times in my life while seeing music. Springsteen played for 3 hours and 10 minutes with no intermissions. He jumped. He ran. He slid across stage, he danced, he spun, he even howled at the moon. It was my second time seeing him, and he was just as entertaining this time around as he was ten years ago.
Finally, during the show, I just couldn't help twirling around, doing a 360 to continuously take it all in. Our seats were - no joke - 100 feet or so from the Green Monster. So to be sitting there, getting the chills when Springsteen belts out "Adam Raised A Cain" look to your left and see the Green Monster, look to your right and see a sea of people at one of your favorite places in the world, look up and see a beautiful, clear sky and an almost-full moon and then that gentle, perfect September breeze hits you - you realize just how great it is to be alive to experience such magnificence and to be just hanging out with your friends and enjoying the hell out of something - Warren Zevon's enjoyed the hell out of his life and his friend made ours pretty blissful last night.
Song now playing: Wilco - "How To Fight Loneliness"
w9.4.2003
So, as mentioned below, I went in today for some minor surgery - to remove what turned out to be a cyst on my left arm. Surgery, under any circumstances, is pretty nerve-wracking. This particular procedure, for example, was nothing compared to what my friend Dave went through. That said, surgery is surgery and I've never had someone cut me on purpose. Until today. So when they slap you down on the table in a room that just exudes steely, over-sanitized nothingness and you're wearing one of those weird hospital shirts with no back, you know you're in for a ride.
Truth be told, the only thing I felt was the prick of the novacaine needle. I couldn't bear to watch, so I just tilted my head to the right and talked small-talk with the doctor, who was pretty hilarious, thankfully. Without getting into too much gross detail, I enjoyed his comments when he first made the incision into the cyst and had to quickly weave his head out of the way because of the "projectile." His comment: "well, thank god it wasn't something that was alive, right? Definitely a cyst." During this time, he's using what he calls "the pen" to stifle blood vessels - essentially blocking any bleeding so he can see what he's doing. Simply put, it's a small electric shock, and I can barely feel it, the same way one can feel a normal shock from warm laundry or whatnot. The thing is, I know I'm bleeding because I can feel it running down my arm. Nasty, I know, but Rustedrobot tells the truth, no matter how gross or ridiculous. Anyway, the doctor participated in all this with a healthy dose of biting sarcasm, so we got along fantastic. Fantastic, that is, until I heard him say to his assistant, the equally sarcastic Maureen, "I need more local anethesia and you need to ground him."
Now, when someone says "you need to ground him" and you're a 32 year old laid out on a surgical table, you wish they were talking about forcing you to stay in on the weekend because you've been a bad boy. That's not what they mean, though. What he means is this: "I need to increase the electricity because he's bleeding a lot and I can't see." So they strap me up to this big machine and drop a large pad on my left leg to "ground" me in case of severe electric shock. How comforting. However - completely normal procedure according to the doctor.
End result: I have a hell of a wound on my left arm and I am no longer in possesion of a cyst. Said cyst is being analyzed and hopefully that's the last I hear of it, but they will, by law, analyze it and get back to me within five days if there's any problems. All indications are that it was just an innocent cyst. I believe him, but will remain sitting on my hands for five days.....believe it. Now - a weekend of Tylenol and Red Sox-Yankees!
w9.3.2003
Hi. Quite a stretch for me lately - spent the weekend breathing in paint fumes and plaster dust. Yesterday got myself a nice little surprise during my annual physical - a tetanus shot. Yee-haw. The doctor asked me when the last tetanus shot I had was, and I stammered and mumbled something about college and he was quick to say "we'll get you updated today." Just swell. The shot itself is nothing - it's the sore arm that sucks. I mean, I'm totally functional, but it's just annoying.
Anyway, I am, they tell me, the picture of health. I do make an effort at it, too. It's so hard to believe that just four years ago I really never did much exercise, keep track of my finances, or really care about much of anything except for music and going out. Funny how things change - just yesterday I was thinking about how I could buy an IPod, transfer only my favorite songs, and simply sell off ALL of my remaining CDs and make some money - I figure now's the time to trade them in while they're still worth something, right? 4-5 years ago if someone came near my CD's I would have tackled them and forced them to do shots of 5F5 Paint & Varnish Remover. That said, today I envision the CD market really hitting the skids in the next few years while it slowly transfers online. (UPDATE - what a strange coincidence that I was just on CNN.com and came across this story. There is, however, something that keeps me attached to my CDs - there's something to be said for buying a CD you're excited about - the physical product - ripping it open and slapping it in the player. But time marches on, and with that comes easier and more streamlined ways to acquire music. I suppose soon enough we'll be talking about the CDs the same way us thirty-somethings remininisce about vinyl records - a thing of the past, to be filed away with the warm memories of Stretch Armstrong's and Super Jock sports toys. Damn! Super Jock sports toys - remember those? You'd bang on the dude's head, and he would shoot a puck or throw a football......great, great stuff!
Anyway, my doctor, whom I've gotten to like quite a bit, really seems to care about his patients. We all know the stories of hurried, emotionless doctors, so it's nice to have one who asks you questions and remembers stuff about you and mentions it, even if they wrote it down previously - at least they're taking the time to ask, right? I've always had a great experience at the Lahey Clinic in Burlington, MA, so props to them. And guess what? I have to go back there tomorrow to have a curious lump removed from my arm. That oughta be a blast.
Speaking of a blast, the new Sloan album is already kicking my ass. It took, oh, about three full listens before I realized that this band will simply keep pumping out tremendous anthems and too-catchy tunes until someone runs over them with a truck.
Song now playing: Neil Young & Crazy Horse - "Everybody Knows This is Nowhere"
