undescribable disdain

I bet at the front entrance to the clear channel radio complex there is a picture of Jack Sparks with a caption that says, "If you see this man, press the red panic button under the desk."

I love that Sparks is so passionate about music. I think I know what he is feeling when his veins bulge from the sides of his neck as he discusses the ways Mick Anselmo is ruining country music. It is the same rage I feel inside when I am talking to a user on the phone and trying to get them to right-click on an icon and they start babbling on about some stupid unrelated thing that is happening. See. I can't even describe my rage accurately. I am wasting time writing this post because I have two support calls to make that I know are going to put me in a fould mood for the rest of the day.

Okay. Here goes. Pinch my nose and just dive in. I need a new job...

Roller Coaster Race Car Rock 'n' Roll Blue Jeans

I went out to the Hex on Saturday to cover the Stingray Green CD release show. I just wasn’t feeling rock and roll that night. I sometimes get a really bad anxious feeling when I am out. I get that roller coaster stomach where your guts kinda shake and flutter and there is a slight rush of endorphins to the head. This is sometimes thrilling, but sometimes scary. Anyway, I just didn’t want to be around all these people having a good time. I left halfway through the last band’s set just to spend the 15 minutes it takes to get home, alone.

You know I started the Friday Top 5 thing in homage to Jim Walsh’s Monday top 20. Because he is brilliant, he now is doing themed lists complete with pictures. My favorite one is number 26, "Satan, Your Kingdom Must Come Down," by Uncle Tupelo, alongside a picture of President W.

Better spirits later.

Top 5

It’s been a busy week for me. I had a fifteen-page paper and a presentation due on Wednesday about the ACLU. I have a few more articles to finish up for a news writing class I am taking and then I am done for the semester. Unfortunately, I won’t get much of a break. I am taking three classes this summer and in the fall. Plus, I may be taking on a bigger role at the school paper, The Metropolitan. (This is still up in the air at this point.)

I knew I would rely on this trick eventually, but I didn’t think it would be only few short weeks into this top 5 nonsense. Here it is: the next 5 songs that play randomly on my iPod.

1. P.O.S. is Ruining My Life – P.O.S.

So just breathe and just breathe in and out
You’ll feel a whole lot better
Close your eyes and you’ll see
That if you can’t see them
Then they can’t see you
Just
Close your eyes

2. 405 – Death Cab for Cutie

I love the line, “Leave your bad habits underneath the patio.” I think they played with Franz Ferdinand (Zzzzz!) last night. HWTS should have a review shortly. I had a long drunken discussion about DCFC with a friend last weekend. I can’t remember the details (due to the drunken part of the conversation) but I know he was telling me that Plans is a lot better than I give it credit for. I don’t know if I agree with that no matter my level of sobriety.

3. So Pretty – Kid Dakota

What can I say… I am a sucker for these dark depressing indie rock songs. I remember when I first saw Kid Dakota; I thought it was like nothing I’d ever seen before. I still feel that way about this first EP.

4. Sweet Caroline – Neil Diamond

Damnit. I knew this random iPod thing was going to embarrass me. Yes. I like Neil Diamond. If you can get past the cheese factor, the man is a great songwriter.

5. Winners Never Quit – Pedro the Lion

I am not really a fan of Pedro. I bought this one album a few years ago and I liked it. Then I saw him live and it just totally ruined his music for me. I have never been bored to numbness at the Entry before or since. I do like this song though.

Top 5

1. Mary – Langhorne Slim

After seeing Mr. Slim last weekend I finally get it. The show featured Slim and the Memphis band Lucero. I had a feeling that I would like Lucero, but I was ambivalent about Slim.

After seeing Langhorne Slim live though, I have a different opinion. He puts on a raucous and fun show. Talented enough to remake the songs live, weird and scary enough to keep you guessing what was going to happen next.

2. Sister Jack – Spoon

Spoon is one of those bands that when I finally heard them, I thought, “Why haven’t I been listening to them all along.” I like this song because of the line, “I was on the outside looking in/ I was in a dropped-D metal band we called requiem.”

I was once in a dropped-D metal band and it brings back those memories. (Good memories)

3. Styrofoam Plates – Death Cab for Cutie

I couldn’t even listen to this song for about a year after my Dad died. I can relate to some of the things in this song, and I feel very guilty about that.

4. We 3 – Soul Asylum

This is one of my favorite Soul Asylum songs. I have Soul Asylum on the brain this week. They played this past Wednesday at the Fine Line, and there is a Rock for Karl benefit tonight at the Entry.

5. Don’t be careful with your love – Jim Walsh

I have a bit of a man crush on Jim Walsh. Just because he is a brilliant writer and this is a funny, sweet song.

Music journalism?

I know it's a very popular TV show, but does American Idol deserve articles from a local music journalist? I know there are many people addicted to the show. I know there are even people whom I would consider hardcore music fans that enjoy the show. But I think most anybody would draw a definitive line between entertainment value and artistic merit.

When record companies whine about shrinking profits, do they realize what the idolization of pop music is doing to their bottom line?

The encouragement and subsequent rewards of the soulless, bubble-headed singers promotes karoake puppets.

3 years

Three years ago, I wasn’t surprised.

The battle was long, for you especially, but for us also.

The battle was un-winnable.

So, here it is. Three years since you’ve gone.

The anniversary kind of snuck up on me this year. I was walking down the hall here at work, and like a poison dart to my brain; your face appeared. Then I heard your voice in my head. Then all my thoughts have been black since.

I remember the night I flew back to Virginia. I slept in the office that you had downstairs. You called it an office, but NASCAR paraphernalia filled each square inch of that room. It was your “racing room.” That was an uncomfortable night. Every time I opened my eyes I would see Jeff Gordon, then I would think of you. Every time I closed my eyes, I swear I could hear you talking in the kitchen. You would say, “Hey there!” just like you always did when you saw me.

Here it is. Three years later. I can still hear you. Sometimes I hear myself say something like, “Hey there!” Sometimes I’ll hear myself say that, or something equally insignificant, and I’ll…

Well...

I’ll think of you.

Because that is all I can do.

I miss you Dad.

Have fun play-humping your guitar player tonight you fucking clown...

Jack Sparks is so awesome.

A passionate "Fuck You" to a poster boy of poseur country music.

Top 5

1. Manifesto – Valet
After writing this, I had this song in my head for the rest of the day.

2. At my job – Dead Kennedys
This is the way I feel some days when I am stuck in my gray “veal fattening pen.” Jello Biafra’s snide, sarcastic singing delivered with a clockwork beat and droning guitars.

I’m working at my job
I’m so happy
More boring by the day
But they pay me

3. What is Truth – Johnny Cash
A coming of age storytelling song in that sing/speak delivery that Mr. Cash employs sometimes. I found this song on the Johnny Cash box set, the first disc of which contains 27 songs. This song came on my iPod and the first verse stuck with me for some reason.

The old man turned off the radio
Said where did all of the old songs go
Kids sure play funny music these days
And they play it in the strangest ways
Said it looks to me like they’ve all gone wild
It was peaceful back when I was a child
Well man could it be that the girls and boys
Are trying to be heard above your noise

4. Bikeriders – Lucero
I just watched “If I Should Fall from Grace” about Shane MacGowan and the Pogues. An excellent look at MacGowan and the way he has decided to live with his demons and the people around him have accepted his demons.
I just bought this Lucero disc because I am covering the show Saturday at the Triple Rock. I swear this song sounds exactly like a Pogues song.

5. Break My Heart – Malcolm Middleton
I was considering the Arab Strap show last weekend, but I ended up not leaving the house too much thanks to a mountain of schoolwork. It did make me think of the solo album by Malcolm Middleton (one-half of the strap). I thought this album was brilliant and severely underappreciated. A lot more poppy than the typical Arab Strap album, but the lyrics are still mostly about chicks and drinking though.

You’re gonna break my heart I know it
But if you don’t
You’re gonna break my run of happiness
And destroy my career
I’d rather feel full than to sing these shit songs
I’ll sell my guitar and never look back

Music Industry, Schmusic Schmindustry

This is my opinion. If you are involved in promoting artist’s creations, shouldn’t you be concerned with that art and not the money that art can put in you and your companies bank accounts?

Three stories that point to innovative artist marketing tools, the return of the single as a viable commodity and the music industry trying to stop the world from turning.

British singer Sandi Thom hosted 21 concerts in her basement which were broadcast on her website. This stunt helped her garner a record deal with Sony. Here is where my skeptical and cynical side comes in. I think that maybe she wasn’t struggling as much as her and her manager would like you to believe. This reeks of a publicity stunt for her new label. I could be wrong though. I think either way it is a cool story. I like the idea of it, maybe this will launch a myspace concert series where we can watch 16-year-old suburban kids play Metallica covers in their parents basement.

A single by Gnarls Barkley hit number one on the British charts. What makes this newsworthy (or blogworthy)? The song “Crazy” has not been released on an album yet, and in fact, has not been released in any physical form. This song exists exclusively as a download. This is the first strictly digital song to reach this milestone.

Finally, the RIAA says that importing songs from a CD into iTunes violates the “fair use” copyright laws. The RIAA doesn't want people to listen to music apparently.

...when inertia grabs the whole damn band.

“What do you want to do?”
When I say I am working on a writing degree, most people ask this question. I say, “Write!”
This week someone asked me why I write about music. All this got me thinking…

I write because I enjoy the process of writing. I like the pressure of trying to find the perfect word and saying it in the perfect way to coax out a bit of emotion in a sentence. I like rearranging the words on the page to make them do slightly different things. This is the reason I write anything.

I can readily admit that I am insecure about my writing talent. Anytime someone compliments me I feel awkward and lose the words to thank that person for reading. I am still trying to find my voice as a writer.

When I was 10, I found my brother’s albums. There was a couple of Rush albums and Synchronicity by The Police. I listened to those albums everyday and memorized the words and I would sing along in the living room before anybody else got home. It was my secret. I have been obsessed with music ever since.

I moved to Minneapolis 14 years later and started a band. I started going to all these clubs and I would see some amazing local bands. They weren’t always good, but they always interested me. Where I grew up, local bands played backyard barbecues, and if they got really lucky they would get a gig at some beach bar, but those gigs came far and few between. Any beach bar that hosted local bands usually, for some reason unbeknownst to me, wouldn’t last long. So, here in the Twin Cities, to see these young bands, and be in a young band that could gig every week in great clubs, even legendary clubs was something special to me.

My band disappeared, but my love for local music has not. I love seeing a band on the stage of the Entry thinking, “Holy shit. This is it!” And they are right: This is “it.” I never grow tired of seeing bands pouring their guts out on the stage, even if it is for 10 people on a Tuesday night.

I know that I would like to be able to pay my bills by writing. I know that is not happening quite yet. My goal isn’t necessarily to be a music writer, but if I am put on the spot, that is what I know. I have in interest in politics, in culture, in human-interest stories. But I don’t have the passion for anything but music. Music is what I think about constantly, music is the thing that I can talk about for hours. I can be ambivalent about most any other topic, but when it comes to music, I am going to have an opinion. I guess that is why my fledgling writing career has gravitated towards music. This is my manifesto.

Today should be a national holiday. Baseball opener. I have sat, in previous years, in front of my TV for 12 hours of baseball. This year I am at work; sweating it out in the gray lifeless cubicles of corporate America, instead of sweating it out on my couch with a cold beer.

Maybe next year I can return to the dream.

The real season starts tomorrow with the Minnesota Twins.

Top 5 for Friday March, 31 2006

I’m stealing a bit from the walshfiles. I can’t quite do 20 songs a week, so let’s start with five.

1.Between Us to Hold – Hayden: A soft ballad from this underrated Canadian songwriter. I’ve been a fan for years, but I just recently purchased the album, “The Closer I get” on which this song appears. When I first got it, I drove around in my truck in the snow with this song repeating in the CD player.

I held your arm as you hit the strings
I pressed your fingers down
and started to sing

2.Cold Rusty Shiver – The Rockford Mules: My new local band crush. If I were a writer with influence in this town, I would try my best to make these guys known. I will try anyway. I love the little staccato slide part in the bridge.

3.Eyeliner Blues – High on Stress: Another new local band crush of mine. When I close my eyes and listen to their album Moonlight Girls, I picture Nordeast, Minneapolis and dive bars: two of my favorite things. I love any song that can deftly name check Keith Richards and the Ashtray Hearts.

4.New Drink For The Old Drunk – Crooked Fingers: A frenetic violin punctuates this march song for aging hipsters. I am still on the fence about Crooked Fingers. I think I am still bitter that I never once saw the great Archers of Loaf in concert. I still have unresolved feelings for the Archers, so I can’t quite let Eric Bachmann move on. I am glad, though, that he moved on in an unforeseeable direction. I enjoy this carnival/ show tune/ folk incarnation much more than I would have an Archers style noise punk continuation.

5.On My Own – The Winter Blanket: A haunting, spare song desperately sung by Stephanie Davila. A perfect soundtrack for a dark room and a cold martini on chilly winter night.

Your perilous prescription list
The problem’s still left unknown
Fighting against
My own guilt
And I can’t do this on my own
If you have
To go------
I pray
You’ll come back home
Home--------

Two Shows Last Week

I have two reviews that went up recently. Story of the Sea and The Rockford Mules.

The Mules are kickass.

That is all for now.

Club Underground

I went to Club Underground for the first time this past weekend. That place is a really unique venue.

When you walk in the upstairs, which is the Spring Steet Bar and Grill, it looks like the typical old-school NE bar. That is, the people there look like they belong there on that barstool, playing those pulltabs and drinking those Michelob Golden Lights. That is why I love NE.

But coming up from a concrete staircase in the corner you can hear the machine gun drumming rising up from the basement.

Walking into Club Underground it looks like it could easily be a VFW meeting place or a venue for a fundraising church bingo game.

The sound is surprisingly good in there. I think it has to do with the low ceilings. There is not a lot of room for sound to bounce around.

I wrote in my notes for the show I was reviewing, "Punk Rock Rumpus Room."

Ways not to impress audience members at your Turf Club show

I saw a band last night from Baltimore. They weren’t that good, but that is not my point.

I don’t know if it was the Turf Club’s fault or this band, but I walked in at 10 p.m. and watched them setting up their equipment. I wondered if it was the second band setting up. No. It was the first band just getting around to setting up at 10 p.m. on a Tuesday night.

They went through a pretty drawn out sound check. These guys are on tour, I know they have sound checked before, so I don’t know why they just seemed so confused about the whole process. It took them a half hour to finish saying, ‘OK. A little more vocals if you can… If you could give me more vocals that would be nice, but if you can’t that’s OK. Alright, a little less vocals now.”

Obviously exhausted from that grueling sound check experience the band sat at a table in front and smoked cigarettes for the next half hour. Finally, at 11 they start playing. I won’t go into the performance, I didn’t care for it, but they would have had to jump through burning hoops of fire to impress me at that point.

So, here is the kicker to the whole story: They are off the stage by 11:25.

Here is the final score:
Sound check: 30 minutes
Performance: 25 minutes

Don't call it a comeback

...actually you can call it a comeback.

I have been moderately busy for the last year (well since I stopped blogging in August). Look at the "recent writing" links to the right for a smattering of what I have been up to lately. Oh, and I got married too.

So, this reincarnation of GUTTGL will feature some of the haphazardly written fiction and essays I used to do, but will also feature more music and typical "bloggy" type posts.

I am reviewing two shows this week for How Was The Show. Story of the Sea at the Turf Club on Tuesday and The Rockford Mules at Club Underground on Saturday.

Stay tuned for that and much more.

State of the Union

I have been doing this blog for a year now. I didn't know what I could or would do with this space when I started, but it turned into a way to instantly publish the writing I do in my free time. I don't really know if I will keep it up. When I started I had the idea of posting at least one piece a week. That schedule, although it seems light, has been difficult lately for me to keep up with. My writing schedule is non-existent these days. We'll see if I shut it down for good, but I am definitely going to take a break for a while.

An Open Letter to J Mascis

I wish I could say it was me and not you, or it was you and not me, but it is both of us J. This is not the ‘90s anymore, god those were times weren’t they. Those were times.

I remember vividly riding my skateboard around Denver with a tape of Green Mind playing through my headphones. And I remember driving around my old hometown of Virginia Beach greeting all the ghosts, which drove me away originally, with Sludgefeast as my soundtrack.

I’m waiting… Please come back

I remember Europe with freak scene on every mixtape I made. And when my heart was broken I wrote and re-wrote in my notebook your words to Thumb.

There never really is a good time

There’s always nothin’ much to say

I’m pretty good, not doing bad

If I’m getting’ up most everyday

I bought fossils three times because I kept wearing out the tape. I am sorry that my ex-girlfriend destroyed the Little Fury Things vinyl I owned. Believe me, I am just as upset about that as anybody.

Then there was the last time J; The Boathouse, Norfolk, VA. We had made it through the early nineties intact. It seems. Do you remember Mike smoking a whole pack of cigarettes on stage? Crazy. Remember your eight-minute guitar solo on Start Choppin’? You were, and are, the only person with whom I would sit through an eight-minute guitar solo without rolling my eyes J.

Those were our days J. We owned them. That was ten years ago now. I still love you. I still have that issue of Spin with you on the cover. I still pull it out and read it. I still make castles out of my mashed potatoes. However; I’ve given up the plastic dinosaurs.

Look, my point is that it is now 2005. I bet your upcoming concert is going to rock. I would get all sweaty and passionate, that is, if I were going to be there. Like I have said, I still love you, but I love you in 1995. I don’t want to see you go through the motions pretending to still feel that nineties angst, but really just cashing in.

No, no, no…. Look.

Don’t get upset.

Look, I didn’t even mention how you are playing at the Clear Channel bat-cave, The Quest.

If you were still involved, if you still cared, you’d be touching the kids from the stage of the Triple Rock or First Ave, but hey, I’m not blaming you. You’re not getting any younger. You have bills to pay. All I am saying is I’ll be home thinking of you, but I can’t be with you anymore J.

Here is where our paths split. Keep you chin up, we’ll always have The Boathouse and we’ll always have Keep The Glove.

The song of Carolann

Carolann’s roots are showing. Her bottle blond is three weeks old. She presently has her hair in a ponytail that tickles the base of her neck when she tilts her head back to empty a bit more of the Boone’s Farm strawberry wine down her raw throat. It is three in the afternoon on a Tuesday and she is in her black Mazda Protégé 5, which is parked on 42^nd Ave. North where it intersects the parkway.

She parked here this morning waiting for a man. She is playing amateur detective. Joe Lee left her house in the waning moments of a 72-hour marathon of fucking, drinking, smoking, and snorting.

Carolann had been spurned; disrespected as woman the way she saw it. Carolann is not a woman who takes insult easily.

She knew Joe Lee passed this way often and she hoped to find out what he does during the day. She hoped to find demons to hold above him. She hoped to prove she is, in fact, better than him, despite what he shouted towards her on a hazy weekend morning.

The dark circles under her gray eyes have been permanent badges since the first night she snorted crystal meth. She went to drug counseling once, a year into her addiction. She heard herself say, “The first time is so fucking good, it is orgasmic. I felt myself wet all over. Every time I’ve done meth since I’ve been trying to reach that height again.”

This was a lucidity and deepness of thought she reached then, but never before and not since.

The late afternoon sun beared down and her skin cooked; ashen, wrinkled, and used. Her twenty-five year old body looked like a forty-five year old trailer park grandmother’s.

Space

There was a night full of stars and consequences. The Hale-Bopp comet shone faintly above our heads as we wrestled each other out of our clothes. The grass was damp and we lay naked looking at the comet. Speaking nothing between us, we were afraid of the promises we couldn’t make. We made an unspoken promise to not make promises.