Friday, October 19th, 2007
Time for a new post. How about a brief synopsis of a few concerts attended lately? Part One: 09.08.07 – Rush – Tinely Park, IL Say what you will about these aging art rockers – Rush’s live show certainly doesn’t show any signs of weariness after 30 + odd years together. I first saw these cats way back on the ‘Hemispheres’ tour in 1978. (Notably, it was the first concert I ever attended.) In light of that, my sweet and lovely wife thought it would be nice to treat me to a 2007 version of the band and so purchased some very expensive front-row tickets for a show in a small amphitheater just outside of Chicago. (Named after some bank I’m sure). In anticipation of the event, I went out and bought a copy of their latest album (can I still use that term these days?) ‘Snakes and Arrows.’ As much as I consider myself a fan, I have not purchased anything by the band since 1984, that being ‘Grace Under Pressure’. Admittedly, I could not stomach much of the material after that – as they seemed to be going in a musical direction more synth-based than the sonic overtures I had become accustomed to in their earlier days. (I challenge even the staunchest Rush fan to tell me they actually like ‘ The Big Money.’) All that aside I was more than willing to listen with fresh ears. (A front row seat will do that for you.) I was happy to find ‘Snakes and Arrows’ a return to form. I’ll give you a quick CD review – if you like Rush even just a little, you’ll love the new disc. If you never really got into Rush – there’s nothing new here that will make a fan out of you. Love or hate them, the lyrics are stylistically recognizable Neil Peart musings –though with touches of politically charged sentiments reflecting the dark state of the world that ring fresh. And as always – Geddy, Alex and Neil simply put on a clinic of unrivaled musicianship, scorching their way through the tracks as though they have something to prove. (They certainly don’t – but it sure is nice that they care enough about what they’re doing to release quality material.) Here’s a newsflash: Rush are as comfortable with orchestra-like arrangements, wickedly perverse time signatures and key changes as emo bands are with eyeliner. Nothing has changed over the years in that respect. The live performance this night in Tinley Park was exemplary. No opening band – just two full sets of Rush dedicated to showcase the new songs and brush the dust off of the old songs – a pleasing combination of stage show effects painstakingly choreographed to follow the set-list down to the most precise details. Whoever put it together knew they wouldn’t have to worry about the band failing to hit their marks. With the addition of HD technology on three huge screens it really didn’t matter what seat you were in – the band members were figuratively and literally in the faces of the crowd. I found myself elatedly cheering the ever-understated genius of Alex Lifeson – alternately soaring through breakers of riffage and seat-planting power-chords to the soft spattered notes of rain-drop acoustic guitar. He can and does spin out these changes of sound on the turn of a dime – hail him. It was often difficult to know whom to pay attention– Geddy – effortlessly pulling on the strings of his bass as though they were nothing more than big rubber bands, delivering enough thick black booms to level the place; or Neil Peart who is – simply put: Neil Peart. I realized mid-way through the event what a tremendous impression this band made on me way back when…I mean my freaking PIN number is still 2112! (Oops – did I just knowingly reveal that?) Needless to say it was a great night. Ah yes, the front row seats were great – but I don’t think anyone left there without feeling like they got more than their money’s worth. Color me rocked out! There may be those who turn up their nose to the apparent loftiness of Rush (and that in itself is pure irony). But these cats impressed me as plain old down-to-earth rockers who are just damn good at what they do.Â
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Saturday, May 12th, 2007
hgl played their last show on new years day 1988- concluding their set with a version of the rites of spring song ‘drink deep’- “drink deep/its just a taste/and it might not come this way againâ€. no one expected the band would last. rites of spring only played 14 shows before breaking up so hgl couldn’t be expected to do more. there are no proper studio recordings – i try to imagine what could have happened if they had managed to record. and i come up blank. but, shortly after the band ended, guy released a 6 song ep on his peterbilt label (actually distributed by amanda mackaye’s label at the time.. name escapes me..) the record was all live recordings. the sleeve was a manila envelope with a picture glued on the envelope. not all the people in the photo were in the band. the insert was merely a business card with the song titles and a list of names (those in the band and others) not quite written in a way that made immediate sense. outside of washington, dc we heard rumors of this bands existence but we weren’t prepared for the sheer perversity of it all. i recall at the time maximum rocknroll compared them to flipper which i do not think was accurate at all. –you have to understand where i’m coming from here, and in these days of the internet where everything is available at the click of a mouse it may be hard to comprehend. (there are no rumors anymore. myth is dying.) i never saw RoS play (til live videos showed up on youtube) but heard rumors that both the band members and the audience would be moved to tears by the power of the music and at the end of the set the stage would be littered in flowers and broken guitars. and when the RoS lp came out, it seemed to support this. the woodcut artwork, the deeply passionate, emotional songs –‘deeper than inside’, ‘hains point’, ‘end on end’, ‘persistent vision’ and ‘theme (if i started crying)’ where guy sang “and if i started crying/would you start crying?â€. so this is where i stood. i’d heard from those in the know that one last wish was a similar affair only more pop (it was til the early 90s that i managed to score a copy of it from guy picciotto). so when i put the needle on this strange looking hgl record – looking more like a piece of art then an ep – i was pretty stunned. Thursday, May 10th, 2007 i think any written piece on the relatively obscure washington, dc band  happy go licky must be written in fragments cause that is how their music sounded. art damaged pieces of something thrown and pasted together. wooley bulley.
there was an article/interview with them posted at the washington city paper website (i believe) but my google search has come to naught. i have a printed copy of it at home but i can’t seem to find where i put it. when i do i’ll re-transcribe it along with a couple brief email exchanges w guy picciotto and mike fellows. a backwards history would go something like… guy (gtr/vocals), mike (bass/vocals), eddie janney (bass/vocals) and brenden canty (drums) were in rites of spring together in 1985-86. the revolution summer era. they broke up after 1 great lp and a really good (though poppier) posthumous ep. after RoS, guy, eddie and brendan joined up with mike hampton (ex-embrace) and played shows and recorded a demo under the name one last wish. OLW was poppy, seemed to be following the direction charted on the RoS ep. OLW didn’t last very long. they broke up, and guy, eddie and brendan went back to the basement to start practicing again. soon they were rejoined by mike. read something the other day that compared hgl to ‘document and eyewitness’ era wire. as i’ve never bought that album i’m not sure what to say. during this 8 month or so period in time the band fugazi was forming. brendan was sitting in on drums for them until they could find a permanent drummer. once hgl ended his seat became permanent and guy joined the fold as well. mike started little baby with 3 ex-soulside (and future girls against boys members) and eddie i believe went to art school. Friday, May 4th, 2007
Worthless information? Maybe. At three minutes and four seconds after 2 AM on the 6th of May this year, the time and date will be 02:03:04 05/06/07 Thursday, May 3rd, 2007
In other news, it appears that R. Kelly was so moved by the Virginia Tech tragedy, he wrote a song and is dedicating 100% of the profits to the Hokie Spirit Memorial fund. While I initially found this commendable, I was then treated to a sneak peak at some of the lyrics in his tribute song: “Rise Up.” “Rise up, when you feel you can’t go on, rise up, and all of your hope is gone, rise up, when you’re weak and you can’t be strong.” I don’t know about you, but I can’t wait for the next verse, in which he will undoubtedly rhyme “fire” with “desire.” The victims and their families deserve better than this trite, cliche’ ridden publicity stunt. Thursday, April 26th, 2007
whatever became of local radio?? what has the loss of local radio to clear channel and the like – what has that done to the fabric of the country? has the death of local radio, fueled by big business and the internet… what has that done to community? Friday, April 20th, 2007
10 reasons to forgive Cho Seung-Hui I have been trying to get my arms around this tragedy all week. I think this is the best I can do. So I now post this open letter to the misguided soul whose place in the world will forever be remembered by his inability to come to terms with it.
If you can do a half-assed job at anything, you're a one-eyed man in a kingdom of the blind.12/21/2012 Thursday, April 12th, 2007
‘Be careful what you pretend to be because you are what you pretend to be.’ ‘Call me Jonah. My parents did, or nearly did. They called me John.’ ‘Here we are, trapped in the amber of the moment. There is no why.’ ‘I really wonder what gives us the right to wreck this poor planet of ours.’ ‘I tell you, we are here on Earth to fart around, and don’t let anybody tell you different.’ ‘I want to stand as close to the edge as I can without going over. Out on the edge you see all the kinds of things you can’t see from the center.’ ‘Laughter and tears are both responses to frustration and exhaustion. I myself prefer to laugh, since there is less cleaning up to do afterward.’ ‘People have to talk about something just to keep their voice boxes in working order so they’ll have good voice boxes in case there’s ever anything really meaningful to say.’ ‘Still and all, why bother? Here’s my answer. Many people need desperately to receive this message: I feel and think much as you do, care about many of the things you care about, although most people do not care about them. You are not alone.’ ‘The universe is a big place, perhaps the biggest.’ ‘The year was 2081, and everyone was finally equal. We could have saved the Earth but we were too damned cheap.’ ‘To whom it may concern: It is springtime. It is late afternoon.’ ‘What should young people do with their lives today? Many things, obviously. But the most daring thing is to create stable communities in which the terrible disease of loneliness can be cured.’ ‘Who is more to be pitied, a writer bound and gagged by policemen or one living in perfect freedom who has nothing more to say?’ –Kurt Vonnegut Wednesday, April 4th, 2007 Are you sure that's him? the cop asked. He was a real cowboy, this one. Snakeskin boots. Sure I’m sure I’ll never forget that face. It was true. The stark, wide eyes of fear like amazement. A bewildering sense of power and control within them And the terror of wielding it Chaos and consequences cracking like thunder. Just a squeeze away. Scott carried the bank-drop in a brown paper bag Cash and credit card receipts from the store A mild December morning The city yawned. 2 blocks to go. Past the bagel shop The subway The newsstand The bodega The Church Christmas trees lined the sidewalk As we walked past we laughed about our boss Whom we dubbed: the Grey Ghost He was always materializing out of nowhere When we least expected it. And suddenly a man with a gun materialized out of the Christmas trees. We didn’t expect that either. Bright eyes of fearful determination; afraid. There was a pause as silence rolled over us like a wave. I remember thinking: This isn’t really what it appears to be. Give me the fucking bag. The man waved the gun like a crucifix In an arc as if we were vampires. First towards me then Bernardo. My eyes locked on the weapon. Vertical ridges Blunt tip Carbon blue Criss-cross pattern on the handle I tried to find a flaw, but it looked real. Heavy with the weight of bullets. Let go of the fucking bag. Benny’s face was drawn tight. I could see the seriousness of all of this in his flat gaze. The spark of mortality glittered like a diamond out of the blackness of his eyes paralyzed in the moment of uncertainty. The gun then settled on Scott. Eye level. Before it moved to his chest, then found its way to the slight dimple at the base of his throat. The Gunman shouted for the third time. We heard him but for us, time had stopped there was nothing for us to do but float in the limbo of disbelief Give me the fucking bag. Scott didn’t care about the bag or the money in it. We were all shocked into astonished immobility. Fear clenches. Both of Scott’s arms were locked tight around the bag. My jaws, Bernardo’s small fists, Scott’s arms. The gun moved again Now just under Scott’s chin. Beneath his close-clipped salt and pepper beard. His head tilted back under the pressure. Its movement seemed to say: The gun is real. Feel how real it is? Your life is the distance between this hollow barrel and a pointed copper tip. It’s waiting in the chamber. At that moment I thought: Scott is going to die today. I saw the deep brown of Bernardo’s imploring eyes Over the outstretched arm of the gunman A flannel sleeve of brown and beige and cream. Benny spoke softly and with a calmness that defied. Scott. Give him the bag. In a swift motion with his free hand, the gunman tore the bag away out of Scott’s arms. It took him three good pulls to free it. The third pull ripped open the paper sack as it came loose. Bundles of cash in rubber bands bounced on the sidewalk The remainder of the bag and its contents were in the arms of the gunman As he turned and fled down 79th street A flap of brown paper waving loosely behind him as he ran. Sound erupted around us The world reeled us back into its noisy vortex A passing taxi’s tires jarred a manhole cover Pigeons fluttered up to the sky from the steps of the church The squeal of breaks and the smell of diesel as a bus slowed Car horns bleated in the distance down Broadway Subway trains rocketed through the station below and shook the sidewalk under our feet. Bernardo knelt to collect the bundles Scott yelled something and then gestured for me to follow him. Jesus. I thought. We chased the thief. There were two of them now: gunman and accomplice Another had come out of the Christmas trees to slow us down. But he had no gun. His empty hands waved to us not to follow. It made all the difference. I heard Scott continue to yell something But I could only make out bits of it. ...at least see what direction he’s... I reluctantly followed. The image of the gun was still fresh in my mind. I was much faster than Scott But I ran behind him anyway. A red Lincoln screeched to a halt at the end of the block Then raced away. Scott was out of breath He turned and we began running back to the store This time I was ahead of him. As we ran Scott repeated a set of numbers and letters I scribbled them as best as I could on my hand with a grease-pen from the front pocket of my deli-coat Twenty minutes later we observed the red Lincoln from the back of a police car In a crowded intersection of flashing red lights from police cruisers and unmarked cars pulled up on the curbs and sidewalks in disarray. We identified the gunman. Yes. That’s him. That’s the motherfucker. Then on to the precinct in Washington Heights. Reports were typed and filed by the cop with the slight drawl and snakeskin cowboy boots You’re lucky, he said. ...if you had been armed, or in this neighborhood, they would have just shot you and taken the money. The cowboy could see our satisfaction Glaring at the gunman in the cell Head down Ashamed and foiled. I often wonder if he wished he had pulled the trigger or was happy he had not. It feels good when you get them doesn’t it? The cowboy said. You know what? It feels even better when you get them after they’ve fired a few rounds at you. Back downtown, the store was busy with the Christmas rush. There was much to be done But I needed a moment. I sat in the basement on a cardboard box of canned lima beans. I flipped through the pages of my book trying to make sense of it, to escape into the pages of Faulkner, but I could not stop the cinema of scenes. No matter. It was going to be the best Christmas ever. |
AuthorTime, I absolve myself of your vow to vanquish me. Archives
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