Shredders

One week I might write something again. This is not that week. Instead, I will point out this shredder video. It's not what you think.



Watch the whole series. Make sure not to miss the Slash version.

Week 57: The Ballad of Stayed and Gone 6

It’s been 17 weeks since my last post on this recording project. During these past weeks, we’ve been focusing on rehearsing the music, playing a few live shows, and vacationing, and last Sunday we officially started production of the record.

But before that, over the past few months, we played a few gigs in order to rehearse the songs we would be recording. However, not all the songs we are planning to record easily translate to a live stage. Many of the tracks for the record already have parts that have already been recorded, what we might call musique concrete parts. Some of the tracks are composed almost entirely of these pre-recorded bits. But using tape effects or laptops on stage is too complicated for us, so any tracks that relied on these pre-recorded sounds were either not played, or the pre-recorded sounds were substituted with other stuff that could be played live.

The opening song, Walk, for example, is a song we wanted to play live, but to do that, we had to come up with a different way of doing the pre-recorded intro. The intro, you might remember, started with a long series of sounds from door opening and closing, lighting a cigarette, footsteps in gravel, etc, in a crescendo that led to the beginning of the song. On stage the pre-recorded sounds were substituted with some spoken word describing the sounds, backed by some snare, pedal steel and guitar washes that built up to the start of the song. The spoken word described the pre-recorded sounds in a non-specific kind of way. You hear the sound of home, then the sound of leaving home, then the sound of the longest walk, then looking back, even the fading is gone, the longest night, etc etc… Stuff like this reinforces my opinion that, although a record can be a document of a live performance, generally speaking recording and playing live are two completely different animals. Which is why there are so many bands that excel at one and not the other, and why, to me, the ones that are able to excel at both, clearly treat them as the two different animals that they are.

We have a plan for the recording, but the extended process of recording one or two instruments at a time makes it so that the plan can be adjusted as we move forward. The plan includes voice, guitar, bass, drums, pedal steel, cuatro, various keys, trumpet, percussion, and pre-recorded sounds loosely organized into various arrangements. However, the live shows were all done with voice, guitar, pedal steel and drums, because that’s who was available for the shows. Following are a couple of tracks from the show at the Local 506. This show was recorded from the back of the room with a digital recorder, so keep that in mind. The purpose of recording the show was to have a reference for the studio work ahead.

Here’s Stayed and Gone, the third song, which you might also remember as the song that had the cheesy Garageband horns and that ripped off some Neil Young lyrics. I post this one, because it’s probably the one that has changed the most since it’s original Garageband sketch. The lyrics have changed, the arrangement has changed, the structure has changed… I post it here starting from the very end of Sometimes Mariana, because I like the transition.

The other song I’m going to post from the 506 show is Season of the Grape which has remained pretty much the same in structure, and vocals, but I want you to hear Nathan Golub’s pedal steel and Nathan Logan’s drumming on the arrangement, a far cry from anything Garageband can do, even when recorded from the audience with a handheld recorder.

So we played a few lives shows, way less than would make me comfortable before going into the studio, but there was no way to get around that. It's a different rock and roll world with a one year old baby. So last Sunday, we jumped in the recording waters and officially started production of the record. Luckily we are working with a crack team of musicians that are used to jumping into the fray and getting it right. For me, however, this will be a very different recording experience in many ways and as such, a little daunting but also exciting and educational.

Almost everything I’ve ever recorded has been recorded the same way, practice the songs and play them live for months and months, go into the studio for a couple of days and pretty much lay down the songs live with a few overdubs on top. On this record, however, we have not had the opportunity to play the songs live for months, so the recording process will be a little more organic and integrated into the creative process, instead of trying to document and reproduce an already existing musical experience. So instead of starting with a canvas that already includes guitar, bass, and drums, we are starting with a blank canvas, and building from there, one instrument at a time.

In the past all my recordings have also been based around one studio. Go into studio X for Y number of days and come out with the tracks that make the record. This time we are working with microphone and sound effects master, Jesse Olley, and we will be recording wherever best suits the music being recorded, studios, train tracks, festivals, small rooms at home, etc. For the first session, however, we went into the very professional Track and Field Studios, and recorded a bunch of drum tracks with Nathan Logan. In preparation, Jesse suggested we listened to the drums in the Beatles’ Rubber Soul. In Rubber Soul, the drums seem to be miked from above with just one mike, so the cymbals come in very clear while the kick drum is a little more distant. I liked the idea since the sound we're looking for on this record is fairly light and I’ve been concerned with getting too much kick drum into it. So for the recording Jesse and engineer Nick Petersen, tried a bunch of mikes placing them overhead in various ways. But they also miked the kick, snare and toms, as they might end up being useful in the end.

We then spent twelve hours running through tracks that would have drums in them, some times whole tracks, sometimes partial tracks. Per the recording plan, less than half the tracks on the record have drums, but getting the drums right for those tracks was crucial since those are the tracks that are also songs in the more traditional way. Well, it was a painful experience, I won’t deny it, recording just drums with some scratch vocals and guitars on top is not very rewarding at all. It’s a lot of work and when you play it back it just sounds like drums playing by themselves, which is what it is. I had to focus on my faith in Jesse and in the final product in order to get through it.

But we did. And a few days later Jesse gave me a CD of the drum tracks so I could meet with Stu Cole and start working on bass parts, and it was a beautiful thing, the hard work that Jesse and Nick put into picking and placing mikes to get the drums just right, paid off.

So off I go to start working with Stu. So far the process feels somewhat like making puzzle pieces, and trying to get each individual puzzle piece right, without loosing sight of the bigger picture they are supposed to be making, but without being able to put them altogether to see if indeed that is the picture they are making.

Bring Back the Bridge

churchbus made a rare appearance last night in Wicker Park with Grun Tu Molani, Judgment of Paris and Houston's Bring Back the Guns.

Grun Tu Molani, an oddball trio of electric piano trumpet and drums, name all their songs after animals (my current favorites being elephant and rabbit) and host an animal blog on their website. I've loved these guys since conception and this was the best show yet last night, mainly because they finally had a chance to play through a decent sound system. Their vocals usually sound like an unfortunate afterthought but now I'm digging them like Slim Gailliard's yep roc heresay.

Judgment of Paris, like the name might imply, are a young band - kids from South Chicago. I liked them. Had to put myself in a different place to get into them. Music for a different generation maybe. Imagine some High School for the Performing and Visual Arts types playing prog rock (what HSPVA rock band doesn't play prog?) with all the romanticism of their age. They called their music psychedelic prog which is really an oxymoron. Still the guitarist did have some nice licks but the style was tightly in the prog arena, no freeek outs I'm afraid. Scratch the psychedelic.

Bring Back the Guns were right on. They had to start with a strangely empty room. We were all merely playing to each other anyway but the beginning of their set is where the other bands decided to load out. Didn't really phase BBtG and I'm glad for that because I was pumped to have a good time. Midway through their set everyone had filed back in too.

We got to play through the BBtG gear which is a couple of levels of quality higher than what we're used to. The Note is a decent sounding room too. It's not my favorite place to play in Chicago by a long shot. It just doesn't have much character even though it's right in the heart of hip Wicker Park and ain't a bad building. That being said I've never had a bad time at the Note. So why am I complaining? Besides the bartender's boob bats did it for me.

One other thing. I put two songs in this weeks podcast - Bread's Don't Shut Me Out and Sunset Valley's Mega Pills. Both of these songs have qualities of the utmost in guitar pop and both suffer from unimaginative bridges. Where is that confounded bridge? And if you can't find it why don't you just canoe over or something. Down with plugged in bridges that do nothing for the song.

Since I've Been Thinking About It

I’m listening to Led Zepplin’s “Since I’ve Been Loving You” and man, I’ve gotta tell you. The guitar solo in that song gets me all goofy.

I know there’s a ton of people with at least semi-legit arguments for why Zep does nothing for them. I get that. But seriously, if you are one of those people… then fuck you.

You see, when Jimmy Page launches into that monumentally expressive minor key outburst it sounds like he has tapped directly into what it is that pisses me off about life and makes me want to go away and hide from all of you. Forever. And when I know someone else can not only identify that about life, but express it artistically in a way that screams my name all over it, I am moved by it. So you may not get that, but then who gives a shit.

And whenever I see the guy speak, or even just stand around with that snide grin on his face, I just see some massive headed Brit who thinks the sun rises over his white ass alone.
It takes a real man to admit when someone else is right.

That solo confirms the genius of Jimmy Page and firmly ensconces him in the place he occupies so rightfully.

So many decry Zepplin’s bloat, or their gratuitous penchant for overstatement, but you have to ask yourself something. When you left the warm bosom of your childhood home, and first plied the trade of the self reliant, at what point, if at all, did you realize how much of a complete pussy you actually were?

This guy didn’t just top charts with his cock all over the stage, he defined a genre by injecting it with all the sex, power, artistry, and expressive genius it has ever had before or since. And that will never change no matter how many fucking Arcade Fire Cds you use to wipe up your waxy ejaculate from off of your Technoviking photos strewn about the floor of your Cooper Mini or whatever ode to ignorance carries you to your ugly life.

Maybe I’m just making a judgment call here. I guess what I’m trying to say is if you are one of those people who actually bought the real hype about Led Zepplin, the hype that claims them to be nothing more than an example of 70s AOR excess, and you in the process overlooked how multidimensional, pleasing, powerful, and emotionally resonant their music actually can be, then I truly feel even more sorry for you than even I thought possible.

Go back and check that track out again. Freely. No more smarmy repartee now. Actually find a copy of that song and really listen to it. Open yourself up to it. Follow where they are going and when that solo kicks in, let it do its thing. At exactly four minutes four seconds into the track, Page play a little lick, in the middle of the solo that literally gives me goose bumps, and that is what the electric guitar is all about. All about. And god, I hope you hear what I hear, because what I hear is the kind of thing that makes the nights a little shorter, and that is always alright by me.

more photographs later...

Was gibts Neues?

I'm obliged to correct a misstatement from a couple of weeks ago: there is a virulent strain of Greenpeace based here, but I doubt it's linked directly to all of the luxury car burning that has been taking place in Berlin; there is a separate anti-globalization 'gang' according to my rather inept understanding of an article in Die Welt. They are targeting the cars owned by corporations or by the heads of large corporations.

The website (www.brennende-autos.de) keeps track of where all the cars have been burned with a map and a counter.

Angela Merkel drove a VW Golf before she was elected chancellor. Now, I think the Geheimdienst drives her around.

At Kunstwerke* a video called The Nuclear Football documents the arrival and departure of G.B. (I believe it was in 2002 for some ceremony with Schroeder) and all of the surrounding pomp and circumstance. For me, it was remarkable to see the construction of the stageset for the president to be filmed/photographed and then a film of the papparazzi in action. Omnipresent in the background was a guy carrying a black briefcase.

Some people from Rostock have told me in addition to Air Force One, another 747 carries all of the SUVs required to transport the prez, his staff, and the Secret Security. Rostock looks to be a nice town of about 200,000 people on the Baltic Sea in Mecklenburg-Vorpommern. You may recall that in 2006 the G8 held a summit there and it provoked a few disturbances.
--

I went to a big house party on the outskirts of town last Friday night where they were playing some rather hard techno music. I decline to comment further, though this is supposed to be a music blog.
--

Human Tetris, if you haven't already seen it.

*EM's link to 'the difference between sick and evil' below reminded me of another video on view at Kunstwerk at the moment. It's a reenactment of the Milgram Experiment which demonstrated that a majority of people within a hierarchical structure would administer lethal electric shocks to their fellow human beings.

Forty five

Don't do the podcast when your head is up your ass, I guess. And I was so certain I was perfect.

Doug submitted "Train to Miami" not Justin.








The Life-Style Violent Juvenile

The Difference Between Sick and Evil





The above is a photo of the original post office which is now falling apart.
I took the shot a couple of days ago.

Amazing isn't it?

Now get me the fuck out of here.

the island, part 10: u.s. mill

This is the tenth in a song-by-song series about why I chose FULL FORCE GALESBURG by The Mountain Goats as the one CD I would take to a desert island. Previous installments are available here.

You wake up gloriously alive, with the firm conviction that the problems that have disturbed you in the past will now disappear. Disappear into the midnight of your consciousness.

That's a found-tape voice that opens "Prana Ferox", the next-to-last song on SWEDEN, and it runs through my mind as I wake up anything but gloriously alive, my liver and gut cursing me in unison, and the firm conviction that the problems disturbing me will soon disappear from my body, but less clarity as to which orifice.

I stumble up from my sandy mattress, quickly decide that being on the floor is very preferable to standing, and I knock the CD player, which I had left on pause. Dumb idea. Runs down the batteries.

Did I really drink a whole bottle of vodka? After my liver having two months of no alcohol whatsoever? Fuck. That was dumb.

"Prana Ferox" is a good song, no, a great song. There are many great songs that The Mountain Goats have written that I do not have with me, other than running through my head. "Oceanographer's Choice", "Pale Green Things", "Source Decay", "Going To Scotland", "Palmcorder Yajna", fuck there's no point in starting because I'll have to stumble out into the sand with urgency before I complete the list.

No matter how long I went on, though, I wouldn't include this song, the song after the song I was habitually playing on repeat last night. Until I came here, I wouldn't have even been able to tell you the name of "U.S. Mill", and in general I'd only dimly remember it, just as when I look at the track listing I can never quite remember how that song goes.

Dim memories somehow seem appropriate now. The birdsong is killing my head. I need water.

Just because you pick an album to take to a desert island doesn't mean you think every song is perfect, and this song - see, it's not bad, it's just like nothing, like sand blowing in the breeze, there and gone, insubstantial. I mean, this is a guy who's used analogies to blood disorders, border wars, and Louisiana graveyards in his songs, who has a functional understanding of Latin, and the best he can fucking come up with for similes in this song are "clear as crystal" and "bright as gold"?

Water. Ah. Must have knocked some button, the song's on repeat play. Think I'll sit here a while, let the sound of the waves wash over me. I wonder if putting my head in the waves would help. The riff plays over and over. Maybe it's supposed to be this insubstantial, like something to cleanse the palate after the sheer awesomeosity of the last two songs, as if three songs back-to-back that were that awesome would cause the universe to collapse.

The light glints through the space between two of the planks, dust mites dancing in the breeze. I try to picture this song, the world of this song that is so frustratingly, deliberately vague.

And then, after hundreds of listens, it finally comes to me, in a flash of hungover inspiration: it's a song about fucking.

Pardon my French, but trust me, it's got to be. Hence the vagueness which is actually discretion, hence being cold in summer (being naked on the stone floor of a shadowy grain silo can do that to you), hence ...

Oh crap.

As I run from the cabin, limbs akimbo but somehow maintaining forward motion, it does slightly occur to me that it is interesting that something you think you know everything about can still surprise you, and that perhaps there is a lesson there, but what the lesson is disappears from my mind quickly as everything else disappears from me, and I wonder if I will ever learn.

--------------

And, of course, the latest installment of videos for people who don't give a shit about The Mountain Goats: the incredibly labor intensive and highly impressive video for "The Gold We're Digging" by Parts And Labor, a band I know nothing about other than this video, but the song is kinda catchy. I just get wiped out thinking about how long it would take to make the video, though.

Kickin' it for Thanksgiving 2007 - Houston Style

Kicking Up Shit 1
(You know who you are)

You! Yes you, the one not taking shit from anyone! Keep it up! Fuck 'em!

Kicking Up Shit 2
(excerpt from 20-30 minute phone call discussing an artist's choice of accompanying photograph for an article)

Writer: "That's the one E. chose."

Frustrated Editor: "Sometimes the artist isn't the best person to make that decision."

Writer: "No! The artist always retains the right to be wrong!"

Frustrated Editor: "So, given the choice of quality or the artist which would you choose?"

Writer: "Well, I think that's a..."

Frustrated Editor: "No, artist or quality."

Writer: "Fine then! The Artist- always! "

Kicking Up Shit 3
(because Bill Hicks died in vain)

Penny Royal, Southern Backtones, and Two Star Symphony "with Live Models"

Kicking Up Shit 4
(Born Liars) (2:21)




Kicking Up Shit 5
(Friendship parts 1 and 2)




Kicking Up Shit: Bonus Round
(Don't be sad John)

Technoviking will return someday.

Sound

Alchemists of Sound:


Parts two, three, four, five, six, and seven.

And as a bonus, Stockhausen talks about sound, while wearing a fly suit:

Week 56: Piano Solos

Hopefully you’re spending thanksgiving with some friends and/or family and you are sharing some good music together. If you find yourself in a bind and no one has an instrument, or a new recording they want to play, here’s some piano stuff. One can never go wrong with some piano music on the holidays. Turn it up!

THE MOUSE

(Gotta love that Asbestos curtain.)

TWO MASTERS AT WORK


THE SONGSTER IN FERNWOOD


THE VIRTUOSO


THE INCOMPARABLE


TOO HIGH TO REALIZE


Happy Thanksgiving.

the latest podcast ever

Hello, after our friendly viking took something with a glass of water, we were able to compromise enough to put a podcast together, with two parts. It's available from the nap.podomatic.com and nonalignmentpactmusic.blogspot.com. The viking and I would like to thank Martin whose record collection was plundered during its creation. Cheers.

My Boy Sigi

a day with Technoviking

greetings, fellow warriors. many people thinking technoviking is one in same with shirtless skinhead thug on utube. wrong!!! technoviking ancient incorporeal spirit choosing to posses body of mortal from time to time. technoviking have room at valhalla, but choose to wander multiverse because of loki. loki total jackass. loki never leave, always on couch. loki and thor hog playstation. technoviking complain to odin, the all-father, but no help. odin father like tony soprano father.
so spirit of technoviking wander. buff, scary deutschman simply indicate body type technoviking prefer to occupy. but sometimes cosmic wind blow technoviking spirit to strange dimension. then technoviking must take what can get.
technoviking awaken. technoviking look around and see not warrior mead hall but dwelling called "apartment". technoviking in new body arise. there is wallet on coffee table. what kind of mortal shell technoviking in this time? sadness at wallet having only $11 and visa debit card. technoviking like to party with american express gold card. buy whole bottles of kristal.
even worse, wallet have bus pass. technoviking thinking mortal shell not have sweet ride for to hit nightclubs. technoviking will rent limo if needed.
technoviking find dirt of outside under feet on wooden floor. technoviking find broom in corner. sweep dust bunnies size of mighty warrior fist. ughh! technoviking appalled to find mortal shell not have tight abs, but gut like sack of potatos. not understand, since fridge only have yogurt, granola, and diet dr. pepper. no roasted lamb for technoviking breakfast. maybe for best. kitchen not fit to cook last meal for worst enemy. technoviking make soap water and clean sink of plastic dishes. wipe counter. take refuse to dumpster.
technoviking enter bathroom. technoviking will say no more except to offer thanks to gods for powder of comet found under sink.
technoviking want music. many cd, but not one for technoviking to bust move to. mortal shell seem like nothing but late 80's punk and post punk. some metal, but no GWAR. GWAR only metal band technoviking feel true kinship with. mortal have only parliament greatest hits and prince 1999 to get jiggy with and shake hips to. how white this mortal anyway? technoviking supprised to not find duran duran cd.
technoviking think norse maidens not visit dwelling where half of futon covered by soiled garments. technoviking place all in bag and take jar of coins and jug of tide. before technoviking to leave, fur covered beasts attack, howling and screaming. technoviking instinct to kill, but technoviking merciful to animals. search kitchen and find bag of meow mix. beasts howl no more.
technoviking wander streets and is pleased to find laundry place next to coffee house. at coffee house, mortal shell is recognized. "dude, your usual?". technoviking can only nod, is handed iced coffee and currant scone. maybe scone explain girth of mortal. technoviking is asked for $3.68. pay with five spot and say keep change. technoviking good tipper.
scone is old and crumbly with currants hard as freya's icy tears. technoviking prepare to rage like berserker of old, but instead accept terrified barrista offer of fresh baked blueberry scone.
outside of laundry house, fair maiden with dark hair and large teeth approaches. she says "hey. how was saturday?'. technoviking think maybe concern job of mortal shell. must think fast: "oh, you know,..busy.". she asks: "anyone quit this time?" think fast again: "well...not me at least.".technoviking and maiden laugh. maiden glides away and technoviking admire motion of hips. technoviking like, but think maiden is rather young and giggly. technoviking think that mortal shell could probably do well with 30-40 year old maiden with good sense of humor. maiden to make mortal clean apartment, find job with benefits. but technoviking mind own business. maybe mortal fine as is.
technoviking not have drier sheets. cross street to store. as technoviking pay for bounce, dirty mortal with two dirty backpacks enters store. technoviking recognize noble soul brought low by madness and strong drink. cashier mortal yells "loser, we told you stay out of here. get a job." dirty mortal leaves with head bowed. technoviking would like to get in cashier face and yell that compassion least contemptible of mortal traits. but technoviking know not do any good. also, technoviking carry way to much bad karma to take moral high ground with anyone. give sad mendicant last $3 of mortal cash.
technoviking return to apartment to find phone ringing. mortal ross make small talk then get to point and ask if mortal shell can work sunday. technoviking laugh and volunteer mortal shell for drudge labor. even though mortal would maybe like sleep late sunday. mortal thank technoviking when paycheck reveal overtime.
speaking of, technoviking time here over. technoviking not meant for life of grubby bachelor. technoviking meant to dance and PAAARRTYY! technoviking outta here.

Victory

Many will notice - Tuesday no John Cramer blog. Technoviking defeat Cramer in dance off. Technoviking leave John bloody tangled mess of flesh on dance floor. John no post today. Brian will post Today as Cramer mends physical and psychological wounds. Brian is luddite so post may be late but post none the less. Cramer will return next week a wiser man - humbled by Technoviking's dancing prowess.

Züruck kommen Sie?

Bad news, guys. The Technoviking stormed out of the door in the middle of putting together the podcast for the week. He and I are having artistic differences or a language barrier problem or something.

This isn't helped by the fact that he keeps correcting and making fun of my inability to speak German correctly. Fuck if German isn't a tough language. Did you know there are six different ways to say the word 'the' (der, das, die, den, dem, des), and that there are sixteen different cases in which you could use one of the six correctly? There's feminine, masculine, neuter, and plural which can be used in the nominativ, akkusativ, dativ, and genetiv. This is just for the word 'the'. I just say something simple like “der name ist…” and Technoviking yells back at me “DIE name ist!” Patience isn’t his first virtue. Having mastered Norse and German- by the way, he has no problems with personal pronouns in German- he doesn’t understand why I keep putting verbs in the middle of the sentence, instead of at the end. I said that split infinitives were bad form in English. Then he demanded to know why I address him with the familiar ‘du’ form when, according to him, I should be using the more respectful ‘Sie’ form. I explained to him that since we’re collaborating here, I would feel more at ease if we were on an equal footing, to which he barked something in Norse at me. I said I thought Beowulf was a shitty story and not applicable to the situation at hand.

He walked out and then came back in smelling fresh. I think he took a cold shower to calm himself down. We were doing fine with the mix until I wrote out a number of words in English on a piece of paper. The words were: tough, thorough, rough, thought, threw, ought, rouge, tongue, though, rogue, trough, through, throw. After he corrected me for not changing some vowel to an umlaut vowel for the umpteenth time because the word was in the plural instead of the singular, I handed him the piece of paper and said “Let’s see if you can pronounce these words correctly in less than 20 seconds.” This time he walked out and hasn’t returned for five hours now. I don’t know what else to tell you.

I’ll have to finish the podcast on my own tomorrow, unless he decides to come back. Züruck kommen Sie bitte Technoviking.

søndag

Technoviking here. As you know, Sunday day of rest for Technoviking. After long night of express movement to repetitive musical stricture, Technoviking need rest from music. Perhaps One True Beat from Odin could sweep land and rouse Technoviking from lethargyness. This Technoviking doubts to occur.

Instead, Technoviking turn off stereo, take mutton chops from kjøleskap, and turn energy to other true passion: National Football League of America. False Europeans worship pagan god of rugby, or worse, "football" (what your American call soccer). And to be fair, Technoviking in general prefer mindless violence with limited padding. Most National Football Leagues wear helmets and pads and would be reduced to blood pudding in barfight with Technoviking.

But Technoviking have soft spot for metaphoricalness. And in life as viking, the American football is true at heart - put blood and mead into conquering territory, then once towns (or "yards") are gained, you rest, plunder and pillage (or "huddle"), then return to conquer more territory. To watch green fieldings of America conquered by uniformed marauders warms cocklers of Technoviking's heart, echoes of one thousand years reverbering across the oceanous mass.

So what team does Technoviking follow? Technoviking know how you underestate him. No doubt you say "Minnesota Vikings". Ha. You think you are standing up comedian like Gene Shalit. You discredition yourself with your shallow, shallow compression of the depth of Technoviking. Rather, Technoviking have kindship with Ricky Williams of Miami Dolphin team. His purity of heart and pursuiting vision often leads him far afields of football field, conquering yards on dessert islands and violining narrowmindful drug laws while under contract. Paper. Technoviking have no need for paper. Narrow minds do not understrand strategy. They are not Technoviking.

And now, with the immense return of Ricky Williams, Technoviking relax with dripping meat bone and watch Miami Dolphins, and dreams that shorterly with Ricky Williams the Dolphins will reverse fortuna, sacrifice goat to Odin, conquer many many yards, and achieve the most greatness. Technoviking dream of cold Norse night in January, watching Superior Bowl, and seeing the gleam in Ricky Williams' eye that Technoviking has when he hears the One True Beat.

We are vikings, and nothing can stop us. Not even our selves.

Stolen Gear Alert.

NOTHING MAKE TECHNOVIKING MORE ANGRY THAN THIEVES STEALING ARTISTS TOOLS. Melissa Lonchambon just bought sweet Fender Bass and someone just walked away with it from Franscisco Studios in Downtown Houston. May Crom have Pity on the soul of the thief. Here is Melissa's post to Hands Up Houston. Pass it around, TECHNOVIKING commands it.

Fender Jazz Bass - Sunburst - 1962 Reissue

Serial number: V097058

Swiped from Franciso's Studios downtown in between Tuesday and Thursday this week. Police report's been filed.
There is a Reward for this puppy. If you are the gear shopping type - pawn shops, GC, craigslist, ebay, etc., please please help me keep an eye peeled for my bass! Thanks!

goddammnit, ####!!!

Also, a $150 external sound card was unplugged from our recording PC and taken at the same time. I don't know what brand it was.

technoviking request you submit to podcast

bitte send the viking gut techno oder elektronish musik. ich moechte gern tanzen ja. ich bin nicht sehr technologisch aber technovikings tries make podcast. if computer not do what technoviking want tv throw it out window. send musik hier: viking.techno@gmail.com viking learning subtleties of musik elektronish. verestehe ich that more to life than pounding beat. aber, mit keinem Paukenschlag kann ich nicht tanzen. und ich will tanzen.

drangskapur and The Mathletes.

Technoviking excited. Technoviking excited for tomorrow Mathletes play. Technoviking like Mathletes as much as speaking in indicative. Mathletes make fun music. Mathletes have cute girls. Technoviking like cute girls. Mathletes have cute guys too but Techniviking not swing that way. Technoviking once consider gayness during Golden Axe show. If Technovining Gay, Warren be Technovining kind of guy. But Technoviking very...what is word? Yes, linear! Technoviking linear and prefer girls.

Tomorrow Technoviking bathe, wear finest hauberk, and bring finest moves to the dance floor. Mathletes play "Animals". Song help Technoviking remember rock not animal but horse animal. Technoviking graduated liberal arts college. Science not Technoviking strong suit.

John Cramer jealous, mock Technoviking, and refuse to honor Technoviking week. Technoviking is man of drangskapur. Technoviking say Cramer and Technoviking duel in honorable manner of Technoviking anscestor Sweyn Forkbeard - ancient viking dance-off. When Mathletes sing space song, Technoviking will lay moves so awesome that Technovking leave Notsuoh with Gie Gie. Technoviking may also leave with Iram even though, again, Technoviking not swing that way. John Cramer leave the dance floor not with women but with níðr and even mirthful Joe Mathlete weep for Cramer. Reconsider words Cramer! Technoviking shall leave Notsuoh drengur - Cramer níðingr.

Lastly Technoviking see Dan Le Sac VS Scroobius Pip video on the Free Press Blog. Technoviking popped some sleek moves to song [ http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yoN6XfyQsr4 ].

Here Mathletes:

Sadness

People make fun of Technoviking and hurt Technoviking feelings. People say Technoviking not speak English good, even though they know English not Technoviking primary language. They say Technoviking sound like Tarzan, Tonto, and Frankenstein Monster sketch from Lørdag Nat Live. Ja, Technoviking see reruns too. But Technoviking not sound like that.

People make Myspace page with animated .GIF and lousy internet meme. Technoviking not think lolcats funny. People pretend Technoviking make Myspace page, but Technoviking Norse and never make such gaudy webpage. It offend Technoviking preference for clean lines and sleek design.

People compare Technoviking to Michael Jackson. Technoviking not understand Michael Jackson. Technoviking not have plastic surgery. Technoviking six pack is--what is idiom? Real Deal. Technoviking not be upset when tummy start sagging. Technoviking plan to grow old gracefully and naturally.

Why do people laugh at Technoviking? If Technoviking cut, does Technoviking not bleed? Maybe Technoviking blood phospholuminescent like glowstick, but Technoviking still bleed. And hurt.

Technoviking come from long line of proud viking. Technoviking family mentioned in sagas. Technoviking great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great grandfather was berserker. Technoviking grandfather eat amanita muscaria and conquer Scotland every summer. Technoviking not have to tell you that Technoviking enjoy occasional mushroom and conquering Scotland too, if you know what Technoviking mean.

So please everybody stop laughing at Technoviking. We can all be friends. Technoviking promise not to show up on shores of your homeland with longboat so no reason for you to be afraid. OK?

Technoviking Einn

tíu
níu
átta
sjau
sex
fimm
fjórir
thrír
tveir
einn

Technoviking week! Starting on best day of week, Þorsdagr, or Thor's Day as it says in english. Technoviking will post here and for all this week.

The Technoviking is traveler & dancer, and as traveler & dancer Technoviking must know all the numbers in all the language. Check out Technoviking number saite here. Thanks to Mark “Another Technoviking Friend” Rosenfelder for assistanse on thes.

Technoviking is sweet and caring person. Technoviking always stay in pepol hart as one of my favorite man in your life. Even if Technoviking haven't met you yet personally but Technoviking hope we do one day, Technoviking still do believe that Technoviking know enough to make that judgment.

Techoviking had bday in London. Bday was grand, nothing so special. Got lovely presents from Technoviking London friends. Got long wanted electrical tape in many colours and got CD with some of mine favorite music by cooltronica band from Barcelona, Anorak. And also other musics from bands name Anorak who play other styls. Anorak is very popular name for band. Friends also treated Technoviking for a dinner in Japanese restaurant. Then we went drinking and ended up in some club with 16 year olds, so we left place very fast. Technoviking does not want that trouble. Then Technoviking bday was a bit too mad. Technoviking partied just like u wish. Technoviking was on trips for two whole days. U know how acid and whisky can turn time into pure madness. Manage to see Shitmat, one of Technovking most favorite breakcore djs.

Technoviking will put Shitmat on podcast. Hope u will enjoy breakcore. Its one of my favorite music movements. To many ppl that sounds like tocher, so if dose to u, no worries Technoviking understand.

While in london Technviking also went to wisit Space Invader's solo show. He is street art artist and he is deffinitly one of Technoviking favorite. you can check him here

Oh, and Technoviking meant to ask you when will you be so bored at home and have nothing to do so you can write email to Techoviking at viking.techno@gmail.com?

Technoviking is using net in college at a moment so Technoviking don't think
that is the best idea to write anything more here. All free college net comps have blocked all thoes big big sites, even your tube. Basterds. They took Techoviking joy away.

wēk - part I

The evening of the inaugural gig of the Step Brothers Dance Band brought mixed signals. Ivan came over to test out a new roto pedal. I jammed along while he hit chords and twiddled knobs. This was my only warm up for the week. The roto pedal had some cool effects. Even more importantly the thing looked made for dance band - it lit up, flickered and spun. Then Snake called to say that he would meet us at the gig from another engagement. Since Snake's sense of time is Trinidadian, that was bad foreshadowing.

I was anxious getting off the phone. I should have told him 9. The feeling didn't last long though. I'm not the overwrought ahole about these things that I used to be. Also, as Jman would tell you, "Snake Time" used to be "Sweeney Time" back in the day, so I don't have much room to speak. Besides that, the Step Brothers was scheduled second. Nobody has expectations at the taproom anyway, no cover no stage.

Still, Old Me would have developed a little knot, only exacerbated by the facts: Roman Numeral One - that the first band had to cancel because A) the band leader broke his hand and B) he forgot what night the show was anyway; and Roman Numeral Two - on account of the broken juke box.

Older Me was relaxed. Until Al walked in.

Al is Ivan's uncle. He is also the churchbus drummer. He is also the oldest member of churchbus by a decade, and that's saying something except that it's not because he is the band's biggest kid. He cannot resist getting behind an open drum set or a guitar or a keyboard. He'll make a racket until you physically remove him.

I have to admit, at that point I got a little nervous. But it faded because really I can think of no better situation for Al's condition. He gravitated to the Korg Electribe which winked and blinked at him irresistibly. He started making some weird synth noises and I got behind the drums fortunately situated within arm's reach of his amplifier. We made a decent noise for some grateful people.

We could do no wrong. No band, no jukebox, and it's Saturday night so the folks are determined to have a good time. Low pressure gig if I ever played one.

Snake showed up at a reasonable time bringing the bass player with him. Snake is the churchbus bassist but he didn't want to play bass in dance band so he's behind the synth like Bernie Worrell. The bassist is the churchbus trumpeteer, Chris. He finger picks. I had no idea he could. These dance songs are long but he somehow has the stamina for it. He is my rock, literally because he had to stand in front of the kick drum with one foot up against it and the other a wide stance forward to keep the kick drum from sliding.

I need to go back to Drum Kit Maintenance 101 and take notes this time because I missed the section about the rug being an essential part of a drum kit. The floor is shiny and smooth at Bernice's Tavern and that's good for dancing but it ain't so good for drumming. By the end of each song and even with Chris holding steady, the kick drum and the kick drum pedal were perpendicular with my foot. Actually they were slightly more than perpendicular and this caused the kick not to happen and also this caused the end of the song.

The only problem with geometry determining the length of our songs is that we only have three songs. On top of that I forgot, as I always do, that bars can stay open until 3 AM on Saturday nights so it was as if we hadn't played at all.

Then in walked Erin, another member of churchbus. He was coming from a stagehand gig so he was dressed in black which for some reason was the color all the Step Brothers were wearing even though we hadn't talked of coordination in any regard(including color). Since the bartender had been giving any guy in black free beers, assumedly because she thought they were with the band; and since that meant that Erin would be getting free band beers and since Al was in the audience, we decided to put Erin to work and we played musical chairs and I got on Ivan's guitar and Snake got on the bass and Al got behind the drums and Chris just stood there looking cool because he didn't have his trumpet.

We went through a bunch of churchbus songs with Erin singing and not playing any instrument. This is something I push for a lot with Erin because he has a great voice. Not that he is a bad instrumentalist, but I always want to hear what he can do when he's not searching for chords half the time.

Plus I wanted to redeem myself for Wednesday night but that's part II of this wēk for next wēk.

Gunns Ablaze

Heidi's wishes for those bored of her talk of politics to skip ahead to the next post, namely this one, might be a wee disappointed.

Things being as they are, I'll just report on the Mike Gunn and move on.

Practices are going rather well. Not to jinx it or anything. Suffice to say we sound better than ever and I that I find that pretty gratifying.

I enjoyed the Mike Gunn for many reasons. No, we weren't virtuosos as Heidi so poignantly recognized many years back, but what we did we did fairly well, and I for one enjoyed it.

A good band, to me, has a lot to do with chemistry, and not as much to do with technique or chops. I mean, technical proficiency is fine, but without chemistry, I tend to find that most bands are usually pretty boring.

Let's just say our chops have never suffered for being exhaustive. Having said that, we have always enjoyed a certain amount of chemistry on varying levels.

After all these years, it's pretty much exactly as it was when we walked away.

I wonder about the show itself, that night, what it will mean, what is at stake, and so on.

I hope it's fun not just for us, but for whoever else is there that night. It's really all for fun and I intend to keep it that way.

And as Curt once famously stated, after countless beers, and at least one and a half Jack in the Box Colossal burgers:

Go ask the lady who's riding the camel. Thank you very much. Good night.

schnee

Wir sind in Deutschland heute, my fellow bloggers. Ja, und es ist sehr different than in New York. I've only had two bicycle wrecks since I've arrived. The second one happened this evening, and was a classic looking-over-the-shoulder to-change-lanes-while front-tire-gets-stuck in-a-tramline. I don't think I've ever wrecked in New York. Yes, I've nearly gotten into fights with discourteous bus, garbage truck, and SUV drivers, but never had a collision or a spill. Is this supposed to be some sort of a sign from the Universe?! I don't get Your meaning... please clarify. Preferably not with my untimely death.

This evening I went to go see Jose Gonzalez, someone who was recommended to us by Sig. Anaconda at the end of last year (please refer to his Week 10: Top Ten Music Related Stuff of 2006 post). Thanks for that; I enjoyed it quite a lot. He played a few covers including Joy Division's 'Love Will Tear us Apart' for the finale. My friend Martin and I are having a debate about whether or not there are any recorded bits that he plays along to. I'm having a hard time believing that Jose managed to get all of those sounds out of one acoustic guitar in real time. Martin claims it was only him and the guitar live. Could somebody please help us settle this?

For the rest of this post, I will digress from the usual music-related topics with a few observations about being an American in Berlin who has engaged in casual conversation with well-educated Berliners at parties, in bars, after concerts and so forth. Feel free to skip to the next or previous post if politics and traveling bores you.

It has become bad form for Americans (that is, fellow United States citizens; Canadians and Mexicans get a pass) to say anything about ‘democracy’, in the name of ‘democracy’, ‘a functioning democracy requires a free press etc.’ in certain circles. It's bad to even repeat the word if someone else has said it first. The good Germans have witnessed our past elections and what we’ve done in another country that rhymes with ‘free rock’ (or 'I'm whack' if you live in the White House) in the name of ‘democracy’ and more than a few of them have determined that our concept of ‘democracy’ is merely a fading illusion. As genuine North-American-Scum* I’m not allowed to use dieses Wort anymore in conversation.

Furthermore, from the folks that brought us World War II, I've heard a few complaints that they're frustrated with the machinations of the United Nations. Jawohl, their complaints are even similar to the what-were-they-called, neo-cons (are they still around?); a no-vote from anyone on the security council all too often prevents action, the security council is incapable of reforming itself. Where have I heard this before? I think the most legitimate complaint comes from India, home to about 1,130,000,000 people (that would be 1/6^th of the planet earth’s total population), and also a state with a functioning d-word-that-I’m-no-longer-allowed-to-say, unlike their neighbors to the north. Still with me? Ok. If you didn’t know that Germany does not have a seat on the Security Council, further reading of this music blog ist verboten until you've read a bit of history.

Last thing before I go to sleep: they burn SUVs around here. They don’t just complain about them; they literally set them on fire. There’s a particularly virulent strain of the Green Peace in Germany that is fascinating to watch, though I think they’re getting themselves into a bit too much trouble at the moment- some of their actions are being used to justify and strengthen so-called anti-terrorism laws. Could it be that their vicious political circles are a bit ahead of ours? Please don't tell anyone in GP where I am. I'm still having a hard time figuring out what goes in all of the various recycling containers.

I'm finding it's best to just to steer the conversation towards music around here.

*please refer to the lyrics from the LCD Soundsystem song.

NAPCAST 43

today's active lifestyles

so hi guys. I'm not sure what the hell is going to happen with island Doug for many reasons, not the least of which is real Doug has been busier than a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest as part of his/my endless failure to achieve a semblance of balance.

It's not surprising that in extreme conditions extreme ideas start making sense. So when I woke up Saturday morning to the news that Polvo is reuniting - at a festival in London headlined and curated by Explosions in the Sky, no less - I very quickly started coming up with crafty plans to fly around the world for the second May in a row.

Some bands grow more loved over time, build up a critical mass and slavering fan base, to the point where a reunion is almost inevitable, particularly given the current festival culture and increasing financial incentives for such a reunion. Slint, Pixies, the My Bloody Valentine reunion that's "definitely going to happen" (he says with endless skepticism) - these are all bands that are commanding audiences much, much larger than when they were around the first time.

With Polvo, I strongly suspect this is not the case. I rarely hear their name mentioned, and when I sent an email around to several friends who I remembered as Polvo fans, the reactions were not exactly that of hearing the second coming, and certainly not enough to inspire anyone else to think travelling to England was a good idea.

This is sad in a way because Polvo was a really important band to me for several years. I saw them at my first show ever at Emo's (September 1992, opening for Superchunk); it was there, I believe, that I bought my Polvo shirt, which held me in good stead for several years until it ripped while reaching into the back seat of my car. I listened to COR-CRANE SECRET over and over while we were starting Dyn@mutt and it (along with DOUBLE NICKELS ON THE DIME) greatly informed my drumming - my whole musical outlook, really. I remember vividly the LP of TODAY'S ACTIVE LIFESTYLES arriving at KTRU when I was an assistant music director, and immediately rushing over to Dyn@Dave's dorm room and doing a joint review with him and Nor. (BTW, if anyone's at KTRU and they still have a copy of this on vinyl and the review is still with it, I'd love to see a scan or photo of that review.)

What is it about Polvo? Noisy enough and rocking enough to be powerful, but delicate and arranged enough to be interesting and textured; dissonant but not amelodic; elliptical lyrics buried in the mix. But for me, it extended beyond; it was identification. The Minutemen said "Our band could be your life", but for many reasons I would identify more with Polvo than any of the other bands that were big in my life at the time. They weren't sexy, they weren't cool, they weren't dangerous, they weren't hip, they were just Polvo.

After an afternoon of listening to Polvo and scouring my head for memories, though, there was one thing I remembered. Polvo, for all their strengths, had never really put on a galvanizing live show. I saw them several times, and it was good because it was Polvo, but often the sound didn't do them justice, the songs didn't quite hang together ... or something. I can vividly recall details of so many bands I saw at that time - Silkworm playing in suits, the stunned look on Trenchmouth's face as they got an encore opening at Emo's - but I can't even recall what Polvo looked like on stage.

There are other reasons that travelling around the world makes no sense for this. I am probably going to be back in the States in July for a wedding in Chicago, and there's a good chance that a Polvo reunion would hit other locations, possibly the Pitchfork Music Festival, which historically takes place in July in Chicago. I have some immigration reasons that being out of the country for a long period of time is potentially a bad thing. The reunion doesn't include the original drummer, who left before their last (and by far least successful) album, SHAPES, which increases the possibility that the reunion could focus excessively on latter-day material. And I am not exactly made of currency and have plans for other ways to squander my finite resources that are equally though very differently self-indulgent.

So, as much as the adventure, the chance to visit British friends, and the desire to rock out to "Thermal Treasure" live appeals to me, I am not travelling to London to see Polvo at the moment. As a consolation prize, I learned this morning that Ornette Coleman is coming to New Zealand in February. Admittedly, to Wellington on a Friday night, which has the potential to be a pain. But it's easier than flying to London.

The Inexplicable Stupidity of What We Do

Man, it's been a long week of being ill. Here it is Friday and I'm chillin' here listening to Suzie Ibarra Drum Sketches and the Benadril is starting to kick in. All the while I'm dreading all the work I have to do tomorrow. I've got promos to mail, projectors to set-up, equipment to haul, and finally a show to play. The show tomorrow is our record release which is, for any band, the equivalent of planting the flag on Everest - we're pretty much done and it's out there to sink or swim on its own merits. That brings to mind a recent Bill Moyers interview with Doris Lessing. Moyers opened with the question, "Do You ever stop writing?" and I loved Lessing's response.

"No. I'm compulsive. And I deeply think that it has to be something very neurotic. And I'm not joking. It has to be. Because if I've finished a book, and this wonderful release, which I'm now feeling-- it's off, it's in a parcel, it's gone to a publisher. Bliss and happiness.

I don't have to do anything. Nothing. I can just sit around. But, suddenly it starts, you see. This terrible feeling that I am just wasting my life, I'm useless, I'm no good. Now, it's a fact that if I spend a day busy as a little kitten, racing around. I do this, I do that. But I haven't written, so it's a wasted day, and I'm no good. How do you account for that nonsense?"

I don't know why but I'm always amused by this notion of people just doing creative things out of some inexplicable compulsion where you create something not for fame or money but just because you are too stupid not to stop. Mercifully, even the stupid have to sleep. So until next week...

Credits:
Photo of Doris Lessing : Elke Wetzig
(granted under Creative Commons and the GNU Free Documentation license:.)
For full details of the author's license and reproduction terms follow this link: License Details

Links:
Suzie Ibarra
Doris Lessing
Full Interview Transcript from PBS and "Now with Bill Moyers"

Six Things You May Not Have Seen

What follows are several things that might be worth discussing:

1. There is apparently a music scene in Brazil that thrives by deliberately allowing music to be pirated.

2. Prince, though, is having nothing to do with any of the piracy nastiness. I can't figure him out. First he gives his album away in a newspaper and now he won't let you post images of him. What an enigma this Prince wants us to think he is.

3. Is it piracy if you just sorta borrow stuff and make your own music from it? Here somebody has traced Stereolab's influences similar to, but much better than, the Wilco version I did earlier this year. Watch them all.

4. Find out what's popular where you live. Prepare to be disappointed when you do.

5. I discovered this about a year ago. It combines music with Pong. I especially like the Satie. I can and have listened to that one for hours.

6. Not especially related to music, Malcolm Gladwell talks about genius.

Week 54: Music from a Catholic School Education 4

Part 4: Eye of the Tiger

I have one friend serving a life prison sentence for murder. We’re not as close as we once were, but at one point during those important years between twelve and fourteen we were the best of friends. This post, however, is not going to be an explanation of how someone’s life can lead up to stabbing a person to death with a Swiss army knife. Nor is it going to be an apology for, or a condemnation of my friend, even though and even before the murder, he was often misunderstood, and often did things that some might have not have agreed with. No, this is not going to be any of that. This is a story about my friend JC.

JC was one of a true band of brothers. At one point, I think his parents had a boy in every grade of our elementary school. Having been an only child of a single mother, I can’t even begin to imagine what it must be like growing up in a house full of boys, maybe you can. Either way, we were happy hanging out together that first summer we spent going to the beach every single day to boogie board. It was the first summer we were allowed to go to beach by ourselves, and it was the first summer we realized that there was something exciting about calling out to passing women in the crudest possible way we could come up with. We would see a woman walking along the shore, catch a wave and ride it right to the beach, then say completely offensive things like ‘hey mami’ and ‘ooooo’ almost loud enough for the passing woman to hear us.

Until one day, one of the women must have heard us. She regularly jogged down the beach, and we were always catching that wave as she jogged by. I’m sure we were a complete pest, but she never seemed to notice us. However, on this day, she stopped dead on her tracks, turned ninety degrees and dove head first into the ocean. Needless to say, we were on the brink of panic as we watched her swim out to us, but at the same time, our fevered pre-teen minds were making every effort to convince us that she had heard us, had liked what she heard, and wanted to lead us into the magical mystery world of sex between grown women and pre-teens. Of course what actually happened was that she said hello, introduced herself, and engaged us in a conversation during which we assented a lot, and said witty things like, cool and wow. And with that little bit of magic, she killed our little cat calling game, while at the same time leaving us feeling like we were just a little more grown up because of it.

That summer we started the tradition of eating pizza every day for lunch. At some point, every day, we would go to Hungry’s Pizza and eat a pie and