Valley of the Dolls - A Seminal Experience

Do you recognize this title card? Noooo?

Here's another hint:



It was only a matter of time before it would be Valley of the Dolls time around here. For me, this movie never gets tired. Before you roll your eyes and get all Lovey Howell on me, saying, "Oh PLEASE!," hear me out: Yes, it's got the bad screenplay, terrible dialogue, ridiculous situations, god-awful showtunes (I own the soundtrack), bizarre-o 60s glam costumes, sky-high hair, and mental institution-grade acting; yes, yes, of course, all those things and more. But it's got that extra special something that makes it eternal: not a single moment in Valley of the Dolls is real. Not one!
It wants you to think it's real, but it's completely artificial from the moment we enter Anne Welles' forever snow-covered New England town, to Neely O'Hara's high-decibal curtain call to herself in a garbage-strewn studio-lot alley.

Of course the badness makes it so good, but it's the artificiality that makes it special. Broadway legend Helen Lawson (Susan Hayward) really tanks on stage, listing to one side like a unbalanced mannequin and croaking out her number in the Broadway sensation, "Hit The Sky" ("My tree will not be just one in a row...") while easily upstaged by a giant mobile. Yet the audience is rapt and Helen commands top billing and major back-stage grovelling by all who encounter her. As played by Patty Duke, Neely O'Hara is definitely not especially talented, charismatic or appealing, yet her storyline follows the Judy Garland lifetime arc anyway. Barbara Parkins' Anne Welles goes from secretary to cardboard cut-out supermodel in nanoseconds upon arrival in New York.

But why am I gabbing away here, when you can just see for yourself? Let us embrace the wonder and misguided madness that is:



Meet the girls (and completely ignore their weak-willed, smarmy, ineffectual love interests). Anne Welles - a vision in beige.



Broadway legend and head beotch, Helen Lawson.



Neely O'Hara, the up-and-comer--she's got spunk, moxie, a voice like gargled Lysterine.



The lovely and untalented Jennifer North.



And lest we forget—Miriam. Lee Grant certainly has presence—ominous presence.



Show business is a cruel business, as evidenced here.



There's the tedium of bust exercises.



The hard physical work, resulting in seeing trails while cartwheeling.



I just like this lamp.



The onstage triumphs, overshadowed by ridiculous stage craft.



Whoo!

 
There's the audience.



What follows are way too many screen shots from the Gillian Girl Hairspray ad campaign, but I just can't help myself. Have pity on me. Barbara Parkins would understand.











Yes mother. I am doing my bust exercises. The beautiful and tragic Sharon Tate.


Trouble in paradise.


It's too damn HOT!!!


I'm fond of the coat rack on the left. Urban Outfitters has a similar one in three colors for only $68.



The bitterest line in all of film history: Sparkle Neely SPARKLE!


How DARE you! You have SOME nerve! Contaminating MY pool with your FILTH!


The completely straight Ted Casablanca.



Suspicious with vinyl pillow.



Broadway doesn't go for booze and dope.



Dhrr shee prirr dee perrr firrssz.


Mel?


God?


NEELY! NEEEEEELY O'HARA!!!!


Oh for fuck's sake.



The special edition of Valley of the Dollscontains two DVDs of excellence, including screen tests, commentaries by Barbara Parkins and E!'s Ted Casablanca, photo stills, lobby card reproductions, karaoke with bouncing pills, and two short films; a vintage documentary about author Jacqueline Susann and a new documentary featuring the story of Theater-A-Go-Go's successful theatrical production of the movie. Clumsily titled, Gotta Get off this Merry-Go-Round: Sex, Dolls and Showtunes; it should be called, How 'Valley of the Dolls' has Been Read and Enjoyed by its Gay Audience Throughout the Years. Just as clumsy but more telling, and it's as funny as the film it reveres. Entertaining a cult following since 1967.

Amigos de Obama - "¡Viva Obama!"

Catchy.


Source: The Oregonian does it again
AmigosdeObama.com

XBXRX at 40th St., Oakland, 2003 or 04

This is at a secret punk rock warehouse located on a mostly residential block that I used to live near by. I'm visualizing the neighborhood now: sunny, wide street with flower-covered middle dividers (kept up by the neighbors), flooring store, former massage parlor (closed by the city for illegal activities), Japanese restaurant. Keep going up the little hill and you're in the Piedmont Ave. area--great food, great comic book store. If you turn right on Broadway you're on auto row. If you turn left on Broadway, you pass Oakland Tech. High School--huge historic buildng. Keep going past Rockridge and you arrive at Lake Temescal--jump in for a swim. Oakland is a good city in many different ways.

I only saw one show there and I wish it had been this one. I like the interactive yet off-putting aesthetics. It's now, it's happening, it's XBXRX.


source: KEVINBROWNSVIDEOS

Fastball - "The Way"

I just heard this song ten minutes ago on 94.7 Alternative Portland and I couldn't stop listening. I probably haven't heard this in several years and it just grabbed me. It's got that 90s sound but there were so much of this kind of guitar rock on the radio ten years ago that it's easy to forget how well some of these hits were crafted. So here they are, circa 1998, from Austin, TX, Fastball. Warning: large sideburns ahead.


I must mention here that 94.7 is such a great resource to have in the car or at home. The DJs are low-key and almost berefit of ego. They love music and they're respectful of their audience. They play a lot of Ziggy Stardust and promote local music, featuring bands with men AND women. The emphasis is not on angry-male cock rock, which is not always the case with alternative music stations. KITS, San Francisco, I'm talking to you. I do wish they'd ease up on The Police. I've had enough Police to last a lifetime, but that's a minor quibble. 94.7--you know it's true; you rule.

Official Fastball site.

Krump This

The Oregonian features some of Portland's Krumpers. Krumping started in Los Angeles as an alternative to gang violence. It's danced between the beats of the music and sometimes looks quite spastic--definitely jazz composition ideas applied to dance. Some of the popping moves remind me of belly dance, as when my teacher Ruby tells us, "It's all about isolation, ladies," showing us how to move only one shoulder back and forth, or one hip up, around and forward. I like how these guys urge each other on and get all high off of dancing.

Chris Robinson, 18, says dancing gives him the holy spirit.

Chris from Oregonian News on Vimeo.

Joshua Dudley, 20, says the dancers don't connect with the beat but make the beat follow them.

Josh from Oregonian News on Vimeo.

William Ylvisaker, 16, says people think he can't dance because he's white so he likes winning them over. To those people I have one name for you: Donald O'Connor.

Will from Oregonian News on Vimeo.

Actual quotes and more video on OregonLive.com.

Link to the movie trailer for Rize, the 2005 documentary on krumping by David La Chapelle (why does that ONE guy get to narrate every movie trailer out of the U.S.? You know that guy--whether it's for Armageddon or Mighty Ducks 2, he narrates every trailer in that tense, going-to-war voice. So even though this film is all about a dance-off featuring residents of South Central, Los Angeles, we have to hear this desperately intense-sounding white-guy voice narrating the action. There' a disconnect and it's a dumb marketing move.)

Polka Dot Thursday

The news has been pretty hairy this week. Tibet, China, Iraq, Obama, the tanking economy and rising inflation. Let's take a moment to enjoy some polka dots before heading back to reality.

Daft Punk - Around The World, 1997


The Pipettes - Because It's Not Love (But It's Still a Feeling)


Strawberry Switchblade - Since Yesterday, 1984


Quiet Riot with Randy Rhoads - It's Not So Funny, 1977

5 Years In Iraq

source: moblogic.tv, blip.tv

Barack Obama Speech - A More Perfect Union

Is America ready for a thoughtful, intelligent, eloquent President? I hope so. Discussions about race can be very uncomfortable, heated, awkward, emotional. I had some in Oakland with my African American neighbors and those conversations were all those things and more, but talking about it is better than ignoring it. And sometimes those discussions evolve into something really cool: understanding--hopefully. Long speech, but it's a home run.

The Telephone: A Tribute

Before cell phones, voice mail, call waiting, text messaging and email, there was just the lowly telephone: a heavy, most likely black or pastel-colored aparatus (we used to rent them from Pac Bell, back in the 70s), either attached to the wall or connected by cord, with another squiggly chord that would eventually get tangled up and barely allow the handset to reach your ear properly.

We always hated if someone had a "0" in their phone number because "0" took a long time to spin back round the dial. "1" was best for quick calling. Later when push-buttons phones became popular, we received copies of The Pushbutton Telephone Songbook: Volume 1 and called our friends and played push-buttoned versions of "Row Row Row Your Boat" for them on the phone.

When someone called you the bell rang (because it was an actual bell): ring-a-ling-a-ling! And if you weren't home or didn't answer, it just kept doing that until the person on the line hung up. And that was that. The telephone inspired some pretty intense emotions when it came to human relationships and attempts at communication. There used to be this thing called a busy signal and if you were trying to call someone and the person you were calling was on the phone, that signal would blare in your ear. It sounded like this: EHH! EHH! EHH! EHH! EHH! Pretty annoying; not as annoying as call waiting, but pretty close.
We used telephone directories, called Information and the Time Lady, and searched our pockets for dimes and a working phone booth.

Here are some songs from the distant past, all inspired by the telephone. You can sense the seething emotions in these performances. Will she call? Should I call? Will he call back? Why don't you answer? For God's sake, answer the goddamn telephone! Our current technology has not inspired such pop soulfulness.

The Jags - Back Of My Hand, 1979


Tommy Tutone - 867-5309/Jenny, live on "Fridays" 1983


Blondie - Hanging On The Telephone, 1978


Photo credit: John Carson collection at TelephoneTribute.com
OldPhoneWorks.com
Portable Cellular Phone Booth
The Payphone Project - Telephone Booths and Payphones From Around The World
Jim Pallas - PhoneyVents Telephone Art Project

Captive Wild Woman's Bad Search Amsterdam

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Wiley the Sheep as Voiced by Mel Brooks

Happy St. Patrick's Day. While this clip from PBS Kids' "Jakers!" has nothing to do with Patrick, patron saint of Ireland, it is set in Ireland (how Brooklyn-born Wiley got there is an unsolved mystery) and features a lot of imaginative antics. And I love Mel Brooks.


The Chicago River is dyed green each year for St. Patrick's Day. Oooh-kay.

Art, It's What's Happening Again

Sherry LaVars took a slew of really fine portraits of Annie Leibovitz for the Contra Costa Times. Leibovitz' exhibit "A Photographer's Life, 1990-2005" will be at the Legion of Honor in San Francisco until May 25th. Sherry said she was so nervous on her way to the photo shoot that upon arrival she locked her keys in the car (cameras within). I thought I only did stuff like that. AAA came quickly to save the day and Sherry told me that Ms. Leibovitz was easily one of the nicest people she's ever met. That doesn't surprise me. Some people exude niceness and it's always a treat to work with them, however briefly.


Jim Riswold, mirthful conceptual Portland artist explores the juxtapositions (most overused word in art journalism--I've never used it before and I never will again; I promise) between tyranny, infamy and pop culture satire, using plastic figurines and his own demented vision. His current show, "Selling Jesus" at the Augen Gallery in Portland, focuses on nice-guy savior, Jesus Christ, and his place in our modern material world.

16 Jesuses Are Better Than One
The Last Supper #20-42 takes you through the process of a 4.5" x 7" paint-by-number project and is also available as a flip-book at the gallery.

Seven-year-old Nathanael got a digital camera last Christmas and here's how he's been framing the world. Seven--good age.

Attack of the Killer Girl Clone Bands

Lez Zeppelin - Dazed and Confused (with bow solo)
Founder Steph Paynes says, "Sexism works in our favor."


The Iron Maidens - Aces High


AC/DShe - sampler video


The Sheenas - Today Your Love, Tomorrow The World/Cretin Hop (formerly Ramonas L.A.)

Perpetual Idea Generator

Scientists are now able to study what areas creativity comes from in the brain. By setting up jazz musicians with a keyboard inside an MRI scanner (no horns--they mess up the magnets involved), researchers measure the performers' neural activity throughout their brains while playing scales and then again, during improv solos. Throughout the improv sessions the brain patterns are similar to dreaming; inhibitions are low and ideas and impulses are allowed to roam about freely.

I know my best ideas come in the middle of the night during my frequent insomniac episodes. That's how I came up with the Lindsay Lohan quilt, Dead Kennedys sports socks, and designer eyes (patent pending). I'm full of useful ideas, especially at 3 a.m.

How about a Butoh Tupperware party? High art combined with American-engineered quality product and sales expertise. I would attend that and admit it, so would you.

What about the Anarchist Bathing Suit? This has been on my plate for years. Why aren't these all over the beach? What is everybody waiting for? Instead we still have to wear brightly colored stripes or big white flowers upon our swimming garb.

Here's another idea: Music Wars. Take any musical concept, genre, year or geographical location, and make a war out of it. For instance, East Coast vs. West Coast, 1968: The Velvet Underground, White Light/White Heat vs. Steve Miller Band, Your Old Lady. Too easy: no contest. Kids today still revere the VU and can't believe they're from the hippie dippie 60s. Nobody back then could believe it either. White Light/White Heat still continues to amaze. On the other hand, nobody wants to hear Your Old Lady. In fact, I'd bet that nobody wants to hear most every Steve Miller Band song, yet those songs are played on the radio CONSTANTLY and the Velvet Underground, hardly at all. So ultimately, VU won the battle, but Steve Miller Band won the war. Boo!

Here's another one: Your first concert vs. your last. For me that would be the Police at the Cow Palace in San Francisco, 1980, vs. Boka Marimba, Autopilot, Gypsy Caravan Dance Company, and The Balloon Guy at The Crystal Ballroom's 94th birthday free-for-all, Portland, 2007. Maybe this is too mismatched. Most people's first concert is a source of embarassment, but perhaps you were very cool and got to see the Rolling Stones in the Ed Sullivan TV studio or something--I don't know.

No contest for me. I'd rather attend a free party with dozens of bands (including a 10-piece traditional African marimba ensemble) with kids dancing around, wearing surreal two-foot-high balloon sculptures on their heads, than get crushed in a mob at the Cow Palace, no matter how cute the Police were at the time. Plus the Fleshtones opened and someone threw a tomato at the lead singer's face. It wasn't easy for new wave in those very early 80s. And who brings a tomato to the Cow Palace? It almost was a war.

Your last significant other's favorite bands vs. your current (or future) significant other's favorite bands. Ha--is this a deal breaker for you? How important is musical taste in a relationship? That's for another time; another post. I have to go try and have a life now. Actually I need to get some sleep. I'm almost out of ideas...

Vancouver, WA - Home of the Teen Sensations

Last week's Vancouver Voice featured three local teen bands who are astute followers of the blues, psychedelia and garage rock, respectively. I've noticed that the teen-agers around Vancouver have quite a lot of personal style, even panache, in how they dress and present themselves. A blend of 70s skateboard park with the added ingredients of 80s Goth and 90s hipster thrown in. Yet they seem very down-to-earth and not trendy at all. This look is very natural for the cloudy damp Northwest. Long hair and dark thrift-store layers wear well during unpredictable weather fronts. And Portland is ten minutes away, for that friendly, urban, indie-rock Renaissance vibe. I'm impressed.

Gunnar Roads is a 13-year-old blues prodigy who fronts his own band. I'm sure he'd hate me for saying this but he's adorable. They'll be playing a ridiculous amount of gigs in March and April. On March 21st, I'll check them out at Real Deal Records (our local record store). Here's a Gunnar Roads guitar solo with a 14-year-old on bass.




The Shivas are psychedelic in a rough, early Velvet Underground way (as practised in a Nuggets-era garage). I'd definitely lighten up on the congas, but I like their dedication to the gnarly sounds of yesteryear--which for them is way, way "yester" indeed. They'll also be playing at Real Deal on March 21st.

Tom Guido, former proprietor of San Francisco's Purple Onion would LOVE these guys. I miss Tom.




Love Trucker (not to be confused with Mother Trucker) has a tighter garage sound. I couldn't find any video, but they've got stuff on MySpace to listen to. Not touching my soul in any particular way but for sure destined for larger things on the horizon. One of their lyrics concludes, "When you sing I forget about the rain." Heh--if only! They're playing a benefit for Africa with a ton of other bands and some on-stage body painting at the 15th St. Pub on March 14th.

Love Trucker sports that Vancouver teen look.

source: Garage Bands Gone Wild by Paige Thomas

The Atheist Who Came To Dinner

Oregonian columnist, Margie Boulé, recently wrote about Billie Sieg, an 80-year-old resident of Brookings, OR, who tried to join her local Elks club. Sieg had attended several social events with her friends who are members, and wanted to join in order to mingle with her peers in a non-tavern setting.

The Elks club is a private organization that requires its members to believe in God but during her interview, she didn't want to lie, so when asked, Sieg said no, she didn't believe in God. Within days, she received a rejection letter from the Elks who not only barred her from joining, but also denied her access to any social function as a guest, even though she had already attended several functions in the past.

OK, first of all: Ass Holes. Second of all: fine, keep the atheists out of your membership--but to not even allow an atheist as a GUEST? That's not very Christian charitable of you, Elks club. I guess it's just too threatening to allow other thought processes that might pollute your perfect eco-system of supernatural worshippers. I'm experiencing steam coming out of my ears, like a cartoon character; an atheist cartoon character. I'm guessing Bugs Bunny is an atheist. Possibly Daffy Duck as well.

Who else swims in the atheist pool? Anyone of note out there?

Ricky Gervais, creator and star of the original The Office; and Extras explains his argument with God in BestLife magazine.

Julia Sweeney, former SNL cast member, has mass-produced her one-woman show, Letting Go of God, into a CD, a film and DVD, book and blog. Good career move.

I'm taking a lucky guess and saying George Carlin is an atheist. Yup, he is.

Who else among us sees God as an illusion and cannot attend a buffet luncheon at the Elks club in Brookings, OR?
Lance Armstrong
Dave Barry
Noam Chomsky
Brian Eno
Penn & Teller
Harvey Fierstein (I knew it!)
Jodie Foster (I knew it!)
Christopher Hitchens (duh)
Angelina Jolie (interesting)
Diane Keaton
Barry Manilow (I love him)
Patton Oswalt
Gore Vidal
Ron Reagan Jr.
Keanu Reeves (surprising)
Howard Stern (not surprising)
Joss Whedon
Salman Rushdie
Eddie Vedder (Eddie!)
Gloria Steinam

And who in the past would have been banned from attending a dinner dance within the sacred Elks club of Brookings, OR?
Abraham Lincoln
Albert Einstein
Aldous Huxley
Isaac Asimov
Charles Darwin (duh)
Benjamin Franklin
Carl Sagan
Freidrich Nietzsche
Samuel Clemens (Mark Twain)
George Bernard Shaw
Richard Feynman
Kurt Vonnegut Jr.
Ingmar Bergman
Helen Keller
James Madison
John Adams
Frank Lloyd Wright
John Lennon
Sigmund Freud
Oscar Wilde
Susan B. Anthony
Vincent Van Gogh
Robert Frost

Robert Frost once said, "It's God--I'd have known Him by Blake's picture anywhere." (might be a good answer if you're ever trying to ace an Elks club interview).

Sources: The Last Bias: Elks lodge bans a woman because she's an atheist
Celebrity Atheist List
Famous Atheists

The Eruption of Mount St. Helens: IMAX

Moving near the Cascade Mountain Range is the best thing we ever could have done for our five-year-old. What small boy doesnt want to live near enough to a volcano to maybe see it blow, but not get injured in the process? Due to Jackson's enthusiasm for everything on earth, we're seriously hot for Mt. St. Helens: its flat table-top, its ever-active crator-building lava dome, its own VolcanoCam, its bouts of steam issuances (a good-sized plume rose above the mountain two weeks ago when we were visiting the Silver Lake Visitor Center--at first we told ourselves it was a cloud--silly us).

We recently watched The Eruption of Mount St. Helens , which was released as a 70mm IMAX film, using footage from rescue helicopters as the mountain spewed forth in 1980. Some of the footage is pretty astounding, although Amazon shoppers were underwhelmed. "It is obviously not made from original 70mm film stock," fumes one reviewer, to whom I say: let's see YOU rescue 198 people from an active volcano while lugging a 70mm film camera in your rescue copter. Another reviewer wrote, "Did anyone else notice the rotary blades of the helicopter were visible in most of the footage?" Again, I can only state emphatically that the rotary blades of a rescue copter help keep it up in the air while its pilots are rescuing people.

Of course, I can't make light of this situation. Jackson reminds us almost daily that 57 people died from the explosion and subsequent ash fall. Today he mentioned that a hundred and million people were rescued. It seems so to him. He's in love with all the snow-covered mountains around us, Mt. Hood, Mt. Adams, Mt. Rainier, but Mt. St. Helens has a hold on him almost as intense as the side-loader garbage trucks he follows weekly around here.

As a documentary, the film kind of sucks--no scientific background; no first-hand accounts; somnolent narration; but the footage is pretty engrossing. I saved way too many screen caps of the big explosion and can only think of limited ways to use them. Perhaps in a postcard format. This mountain is still an active volcano and is a fascinating reminder of how tiny and helpless we are in the face of hot magma.

Mt. St. Helens, pre-eruption.
Then on May 18th, 1980: Ka-blooey.
Pristine Spirit Lake, at the foot of the mountain, pre-eruption.
And after--a post-apocalyptic landscape.
The initial explosion issued from a "bulge" on the north side of the mountain, which had been growing for several days following weeks of measurable earthquakes. The lateral explosion killed 57 people, wiped out countless elk, birds and other wildlife, destroyed miles of old-growth forests, and sent tons of gray ash 12 miles into the air, which then rained down all over Washington, Idaho and Montana.







Puckish Northwest humor (coated in ash).
Inside the new mile-wide crater, a fresh lava dome was forming.

But it blew up. More eruptions followed for the next six years.
The film has been updated with footage from ten years after the eruption but it's outdated now. Plants and animals are back at Mt. St. Helens. There are three visitor centers where you can view the mountain and its ever-growing lava dome within the crator.

To see what happens when a volcano implodes, here's a film still of Southern Oregon's Crater Lake. Several thousand years ago Mt. Mazama sank into the ground to a depth of 1,943 feet and formed the deepest lake in the U.S. Wizard Island, shown here, is a lava dome that later formed in the lake and all that appears to be left of Mt. Mazama (at least to our eyes).


Be sure to visit Volcano World.

70s Super Hero Friday

Electra Woman & Dyna Girl from Syd and Marty Krofft's Krofft Supershow. Super shows that will blow your mind away.


Bob Wilkins as the San Francisco Bay Area's afternoon kiddie-show host Captain Cosmic. He was our home-town hero with an impressively dryyyy wit.


School teacher Andrea Thomas saves the day as Isis (super heroes don't wear glasses).


Shazam! Billy Batson transforms into the mightiest of mortal beings: Captain Marvel. I thought Billy's hair was super-heroic.


Lynda Carter in her satin tights, fighting for her rights as Wonder Woman.


70s Live Action Kid Vid

Asthmatic Kitty Records - Encyclopedia Asthmatica vol 1

Arty or annoying? That's the question that haunted me when I saw the description of this DVD. I think I'll lean towards arty (with slight variances of annoyance). Asthamtic Kitty Records collected a bunch of its bands and filmmaking friends for their DVD collection. Featuring the music, filmmaking, animation and dance of: Bunky, My Brightest Diamond, Half-Handed Cloud, The Curtains, among others.

Trailer for the DVD.


My Brightest Diamond - Magic Rabbit
This could have been a real art-school mess but I find it magical instead.


Surjan Stevens - Palm Sunday Tornado Hits Crystal Lake
Reminds me of the later stuff Harry Smith was animating back in the 40s & 50s for his series "Early Abstractions."


Source: Asthmatic Kitty Channel

"Girls Rock!" Doc plus Rock & Roll Camp For Girls - Portland Benefit

I was galumphing around on Jezebel and found this trailer for the new documentary Girls Rock!. I admit, I got teary-eyed watching these girls discover their inner rock goddesses. The film opens March 7th (this Friday) and Portland is having a red-carpet event. That's classy. March 7, 7pm (VIP reception at 5pm), Cinema 21, 616 NW 21st Ave., Portland, Tix.

Not surprisingly, Portland hosts a really well-regarded Rock & Roll Camp For Girls. They're having a benefit on March 14th with The Killer Llamas, DJs, plus ten girl rock bands from their camps. At the Audio Cinema, 226 SE Madison St., Portland. All ages.

If these camps had existed when I was growing up, I probably would have learned to play the drums when I was nine like I wanted to, instead of in my 30s. Oh well, when I asked for a drum kit, my dad gave me a tambourine to go with my piano lessons. He tried. I'm glad I took up the drums later on; better late than never--that's my motto. If you are a lady and wish to rock out, you can benefit the Girls Rock Camp by attending Ladies Rock Camp. Learn an instrument and jam for a 3-day weekend. What a terrific way to let out all that bottled-up angst.

Concord, CA, There I Was

I visited my parents for four days this week and if you know me, live in the Bay Area, and I didn't call you, it's because I was getting over a lingering three-week bronchitis-like cold and was feeling guilt for moving away from my parents in the first place. That didn't stop me from experiencing the splendor of the East Bay in February--a time when it starts getting weirdly hot before March blows in and reminds us that it's not quite spring yet people, even in California.

What did I accomplish on this truncated visit? So very much, thank you for asking!

Firstly, on Friday, Sue Iconolodge fed me some delicious Trader Joe's hummus. I'm not about product placement, but I had been seriously craving hummus all week and this TJ hummus is not fooling around: you need it in your life. It's got some kind of oily pine nut crust on top--look for that. I visited with Sue's house-guest who's involved in some kind of polyamorous sect based in Marin County, or possibly San Francisco. I couldn't keep track of the people involved or the terminology. As we left for the night, I wished him well in his polymorphous pursuits, which sounded right at the time, though he called me on it immediately and I tried to cover my tracks by describing it as meaning sex with a tentacled person. I don't think he bought that

We headed off into the night, driving alongside the Bay during a polymorphously orange sunset. The water was all choppy and shiny and though the traffic was like driving through a bog, our spirits were high. Because we were heading towards a party at Takara Sake in Berkeley where free sushi and sake would be served from 6-8 p.m. Takara Sake is a big warehouse full of sake, a sake tasting room, and a sake museum featuring all kinds of fabulous 19th-century Japanese sake-making tools. Sue looked at the sake-making pictograms and noted, "They didn't tell us that FEET were involved."

We tasted sake that was flavored with apples, lychee nuts and good old unfiltered rice (milky and cold), plus the usual dry, heated variety, and none tasted of feet. Meanwhile, our friends in The Uptones mingled and were very low-key about the fact that the gathering was a party celebrating the release of their new CD, Skankin' Fools Unite! There was no live music and no visible CDs and they wouldn't play the actual CD. Therefore it was a great marketing coup for sake. Tiny plastic cups in hand, we stalked former Beserkeley Records CEO, Matthew Kaufman (now head of Fun Fun Fun Recordings) and asked if we could see and touch an actual CD. Whereupon he disappeared into a closet and retrieved a couple for us. Thank you Matthew.

You might remember The Uptones from 1981 when they first formed in high school in Berkeley. They were teen-age ska prodigies who grew up, created some new bands then re-formed again as The Uptones. With the three core originators in place plus five more (including a three-piece horn section), The Uptones are an awesome live experience. And the CD is really good with a mix of new and classic Uptones songs; the production is crisply excellent. All the early 80s ska touchstones are in place: rebellious attitude in a porkpie hat: check; celebration of the outlaw: check (Bonnie and Clyde); Jamaican/British 2-Tone influences intact: check (The Specials, The Selector, English Beat, etc.). I especially love "Not From Here"--its theme of alienation couched within an epic chord progression. It will make you do the twist and feel years younger.

Even my mom was really impressed. She loves the horns (note: my mom has good taste in music--especially dance music). So if you're looking for that blend of 50s Jamaican influence in an American punk-rock dance band--here you go.

Paul and Eric of the Uptones have a musical secret: they can play really bitchin' Rolling Stones-like riffs from the Exile on Main St. era. If they ever want to get that stuff recorded, I'm all for that.

On Saturday I talked my parents into driving us up to the top of Mt. Diablo. 3,840 feet of plate-tectonic-produced land mass, rising up behind their house. February/March is the perfect time to go because all the foothills are green. I mean GREEN--Ireland green. And the scrubby old Oaks don't have leaves and look all twisty and artistic. We could see quite a lot from the top , though there was a slight haze. On days after a wind storm, you can see the Golden Gate Bridge and beyond. We then headed to Rock City to climb on the very amazing sandstone wind caves. If you are ever in a state park and you pass a sign that says "Rock City," you should turn off and go there. It will most likely be a good experience.
Wind caves are polymorphous indentations in sandstone, formed by wind. They're like if wind had a sculptural face, except they're covered with graffiti. You can scratch your name on sandstone with almost anything, including a finger, so people do. But still, they rock. Jackson loved finding left-over sand in the path as we mountain-goated through the rock formations. He kept bending down to rub his hands in it--little sand puddles.

After that I wasn't good for much other than art-supply shopping and the airport. I watched Bill Maher with my mom one late night. She and my dad are rooting heavily for Obama--I hope the democrats don't disappoint them. They're pretty depressed about politics and need a win. Maher's show "Real Time" was for the most part entertaining and thoughtful throughout. I like Dan Savage on the Obama campaign trail, asking college boys if they were a little gay for Obama. "We are, a little," they admitted. He also pointed out that security in Dallas was really lax. Federal agents took down all the metal detectors halfway through frisking the huge crowd. Savage asked why and they told him it seemed like a safe friendly crowd. Fuck you Dallas. Swear words I heard while watching HBO: fucking, fucked, and cock. That's the freedom of pay TV.

I put on the Uptones CD while unpacking today and could not help dancing around the bedroom. That is a good situation to come home to. Although it's raining here again, the sun keeps bursting through the clouds as if to say, "Hey there stranger! Remember me?" Yes--welcome back.

photo sources:
Pixieland Amusement Park, Concord, CA
Mt. Diablo Photos
Guide to the Geology of Mt. Diablo

Jeff Mangum - Oh Comely

Keith found much Neutral Milk Hotel on YouTube to get excited about. He asked me to put a video up so here it is. I must say I've always thought Neutral Milk Hotel is a really stupid band name. But it fit that band pretty well--not stupidly--they were just very unpretentious, yet artful and entertaining and Mangum is the mysterious center of it all. Here he is in Athens, GA at the 40 Watt Club in 1997.


Stupid band names off the top of my head (in no particular order or personal musical preference):
Lubricated Goat
Straightjacket Fits
Limp Bizkit
that symbol for Prince
The Artist Formerly Known As Prince
Look Blue Go Purple
Laaz Rockit
Big Head Todd and the Monsters
The Offspring
Puff Daddy
Echo & the Bunnymen
Inflatable Boy Clams
Spot 1019
Camper Van Beethoven
The Cat Heads
I Will Kill You F*cker

Every band I ever played in had a whole lot of stupidness going on:
Not Now
Spinster Playtime
Soft Pump
She Mob
Death By Stork
honorary mention: Winner's Bitch