Average John

Interested in winning that live DVD/CD from QOTSA reviewed below? You can have your very own copy absolutely free. All you have to do is email me (address at right) and tell me why YOU should win. So easy.

Fat Bastard is my favorite Shiraz

I'm stealing this. But I'm giving credit where it's due. This was stolen from the waiter over at Waiter Rant. I highly recommend checking out his site if you've ever been in the service industry. Obviously this list will be useless to some people, but I drink enough wine to totally appreciate this kind of advice.

HOW TO ORDER WINE WITHOUT LOOKING LIKE AN ASSHOLE

I’m not a wine guy. I like whisky and beer. But I appreciate the artistry that goes into making wine and I respect people who have a good grasp of Oenology. However, since most people are dopes when it comes to ordering wine, I’ve assembled a list of tips to help you not look like a putz. It’s not an exhaustive list. (It’s not a knowledgeable list for that matter either. I’m sure the wine snobs are going to rip it apart.) It’s just a list of observations I’ve made over the years.

1. Look at the wine list before asking, “What kind of wines do you serve by the glass?” The list at my bistro’s extensive. If I’ve got to rattle off all the wines, you’re wasting my time. Forgot your reading glasses? I’ll lend you mine.

2. Don’t ask, “What’s cheap?”

3. We love selling glasses of wine! The restaurant makes more money per bottle that way! Pssst! It’s usually cheaper to buy the bottle.

4. No, you can’t taste every wine on the list before deciding on something.

5. Read the wine list. Note the prices!

6. Remember the mark up – Most establishments mark up the price of a bottle from 1 ½ to 5 times the wholesale price. (At my bistro the markup’s pretty low.) Since you’re paying so much I recommend getting something you can’t get at the gas station or Stew Leonard’s. But that’s just me.

7. If you can’t pronounce the name of the wine, don’t. Just tell me the number. It’s like ordering in a Chinese restaurant. And don’t get all self conscious that “Brunello Montalcino di Biondi Santi” rolls off my tongue with the greatest of ease. I’ve had plenty of practice. You haven’t.

8. When the waiter presents the bottle LOOK AT THE LABEL! Sometimes waiters make mistakes. My bistro has several wines of differing vintages from the same maker. Sometimes a ’97 is a shitload more expensive than an ‘01! You drink it you buy it. Caveat emptor pal.

9. DO NOT SMELL THE CORK! - When I see someone do this I know I’m dealing with a complete amateur. Guess what you’re gonna smell? Cork! You want to feel the cork to make sure it’s intact. Is the bottom of the cork moistened with wine? Good. That means it was stored properly. Make sure the name on the cork matches the name on the bottle. Sometimes unscrupulous bastards put cheap wine in old wine bottles and re-cork them! Is there mold on the cork? That’s a bad sign. But smelling the cork, in the vast majority of cases, tells you nothing. (Full disclosure – I used to smell the cork before I was a waiter.)

10. DON’T SMELL THE PLASTIC CORK EITHER!- I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen people do this. Lots of wine makers are moving away from natural cork to synthetics. Sniffing a plastic cork tells the world you’re a moron. Don’t smell the bottle cap either. (I never smelled the plastic cork before I was a waiter, so there!)

11. Swirl the wine – Now I pour some wine into a glass for you to taste. Most customers swirl the wine around in the glass to oxygenate or “open it up.” That’s fine. But SWIRL the wine! Don’t spin it like you’re trying to separate U-235 in a centrifuge machine! You’ve all seen these “connoisseurs.” They put the base of the glass on the table top and get a really good rotation going. Then they stop, smell, spin it again, stop, smell, spin, stop, smell, spin etc. After a few minutes they finally taste it and I have several new grey hairs. Maybe I can see that for 1975 Bordeaux. But for a $25 bottle you can pick up in the grocery store for $6? Please. You’re showing off.

12. Taste the wine – Now you take a sip. If the wine tastes like vinegar or smells like moldy cheese it’s bad.

13. Sending the wine back – If the wine’s bad send it back! It’s no skin off our nose. Usually we get a credit from the distributor. In most cases, however, people refuse a perfectly good bottle of wine just because they don’t like it. Whose problem is that? Mine? I don’t think so.

14. After you’ve tasted the wine and decided its acceptable say, “That’s fine,” or “Thank you.” That means you’ve accepted the bottle and will pay for it. Don’t wave, grunt, or nod. Tell me verbally you’re accepting the wine. This is a business transaction. Show some manners.

15. The Big Glasses – At my bistro we have very serviceable red and white wine glasses. However, some yuppies have a wine glass fetish and insist on sipping $6 Chianti out of a $50 Riedel balloon glass. Stop whining. The big glasses are for people who order older expensive wines that need to breathe. People who drink cheap wine out of the “big glasses” usually want the neighboring tables to think they’re drinking something pricey when they aren’t. Hey, Greeks and Italian’s drink wine out of water glasses. Get over it.

16. Finishing the bottle – Most people finish a bottle of wine because they enjoy it. But some people finish it because they think they can’t take it home. In the State of New York you take an open bottle home as long as the restaurant places it in a special sealed bag with a receipt. That way, if the cops pull you over, they know you’ve been drinking but not in the car! Good luck!

17. Know your limits – Wine is still booze! It can fuck you up just like tequila and usually faster. Pace yourself.

18. Cheap wine doesn’t mean its bad and expensive wine doesn’t mean it’s good. But expensive wine is usually expensive because it’s good and in demand. Simple economics folks.

19. If there’s cork in the wine that doesn’t mean the wine’s bad.

20. If there’s sediment at the bottom of the glass that doesn’t mean the wine’s bad.

21. Control your intake – My advice is to pour your own wine. That way you can control your intake and spending. Some waiters try and pour out the bottle before you’re done buttering your dinner rolls. They’re trying to make you buy another bottle! I hate that shit and don’t do it to my customers. When I go out, unless I know the waiter’s not a con artist, I pour my own wine.

22. Often the customer knows more about wine than the waiter does. (But sommeliers usually know more about wine than anybody.) Don’t try and embarrass the waiter by asking him whether the soil in a particular vineyard’s chalky or clay. We don’t know. But if you’re showing off in order to make me look bad - I have ways of exacting vengeance.

23. Tipping on wine. That’s always a tricky question. Here’s an example. I had a guy order a $500 bottle of Barolo and $100 in food. He left me $50 bucks. That’s fair. But I once had a guy order the same thing and leave me $200. Guess who I like better?

24. If you bring your own wine into a restaurant that has a liquor license you’re gonna pay a corking charge. Deal with it. We already let people carry in Starbucks coffee and breast feed their babies at the table. Next thing you know they’ll want to bring their own food.

25. Its wine, not the Blood of Christ. Don’t worship it. Enjoy it.

There's much more at Waiter Rant, check it out.

Feeding Off the Industry

I just came across something new over at Vice online. They have a new MP3 blog. It will be updated every two weeks with new music for you to freeload. Right now there are some remixes of Bloc Party stuff. Check it out here.

I Wanna Make It Wit Chu

Ever since the end times of the Palm Desert's metal behemoth Kyuss, I have been a fan of all that Josh Homme touches. The man has talent, and has the right friends with similar talent, there's no denying that.

Of course there's Kyuss, and Queens of the Stone Age, and the Eagles of Death Metal, but then there's the Desert Sessions. What a great fucking idea! Get a bunch of your friends together out in the middle of the desert with power generators and amps, and just jam. Maybe the results are just enough for a 10-inch EP, or maybe there's a full-length in there. I'd be willing to bet that there's enough unreleased Desert Sessions material to put out several more records even though they've already put out ten of them. Actually, I think I read something recently about another installment due out in the coming year.

I don't know where I was going with that, I just like the idea behind the Desert Sessions.

Anyhoo, I just got my hands on the latest from Mr. Homme. It's the Queens of the Stone Age live DVD/CD, "Over the Years, and Through the Woods."

One disc is fourteen songs spanning Desert Sessions and regular QOTSA albums (unfortunately no Kyuss covers) performed live in London. There isn't much new here as far as songs, although the songs were new to the concert-goers at the time. The sound is very clean, there's a minimum of crowd noise (thank fucking god, I hate that shit on a live album), and everything is tight. What's impressive is how the band is able to replicate a lot of studio guitar trickery onstage. There are a few things that are done differently because you can't do it all live, and it all works out really well. As a live album, this works, the average fan will probably have all of this music already, and the band is so tight that it's almost hard to believe it's live.

Somehow, I've managed to never see QOTSA live, so here was my chance. The live footage is intercut with shots of Homme playing an acoustic guitar by himself in some dark alley as well as shots of the band doing typical tour things. Like checking out the local scene or riding the tour bus or whatever. It's nothing groundbreaking, but it's enjoyable. I watched it all the way through and liked it.

Overall, worth it for the average fan, or the completist.

The other disc is a DVD of live footage put together in one cohesive performance. You can tell it's all the same tour, but I think it was shot on a couple of different nights.

Revulva

A friend of mine just put up a MySpace page for her solo music project. You should check it out. In her words, it sounds like "Book Of Love-meets-broken 8-track-meets Beverly Hills Cop II soundtrack-meets-Pray For Rain." I think it's even better than that, though.

Click the pic to check out Kimpatsu:

Chocolate Salty Balls

Ladies and gentlemen, I have been deceived. Today at the office, many people brought in treats. Some were just the simple sugar cookies cut in the shapes of Christmas trees and angels or whatever with icing. Some brought muffins or coffee cake. One brought a plate of cookies he picked up from his mom's office. This was the plate in question.

I remember being little and going to my grandma or grandpa's holiday parties at the places where they worked. There were always these cookies that you only see around Christmas. I'm trying to think of some of them right now, but I've never known the names. I remember one that's basically a sugar cookie with a maraschino cherry (red or green) smushed into the top. Or there's the crumbly pink cookies and snickerdoodles. I remember those. There's one variety that looks like little balls about 3/4 of an inch in diameter. They're coated in confectioner's sugar, and the actual cookie on the inside is buttery with almonds or pecans. I just took a look online using "holiday cookies" as my search string on Google Images and found out that they're called Mexican Wedding Cookies. The one with the cherries smushed on top is called a Bird's Nest. Then there's the peanut butter cookie with a peanut butter cup pushed into the top. This is called a Double Peanut Butter Cup. Then there's the Haystack which is made with chow mein noodles held together by a glue like melted butterscotch or chocolate.

So, this is the deal. I went to the plate of varied cookies that my co-worker brought in from his mom's office. I saw what looked like a Mexican Wedding cookie with the powdered sugar. I grabbed one because I really like those. Upon biting into it, I quickly found that it wasn't at all what I thought. It took a few grossed-out minutes of holding it in my mouth, but soon I recognized the taste: rum! I had eaten a rum ball. That was my first and my last. I drink, I admit it. There's a lot of alcohol that I like, lots that I've tried, but rum is not high on my list of favorites. I've had desserts featuring liqueurs and vodka in my marinara, that's always good. But, I must warn you, rum has NO PLACE in a cookie, people!

Avoid the rum ball at all cost, you'll thank me later.

Overheard in Detroit

"I'm not on the Stem-Fast Diet anymore." - a former junky

"I was staring out over the Adriatic Sea at sunset with this guy who barely spoke English eating me out at every park bench all the way back to the hotel..." - the same ex-addict as above

Okay, so it wasn't overheard, she was sitting right across from me at the restaurant. I wish it would've been busier in there so we could've seen people's reactions. At some point, someone sitting next to me proved how truly un-pourable Heinz's "Pourable Mustard" really is. I had to tap the '57' to get it to start pouring into his mouth.

Thankfully It's Grindcore (re/discovery)

I think it may have been via MTV's 120 Minutes where I discovered Britpop. There were the 'easy' bands like The Smiths and New Order and all that, but that's not quite what I'm talking about. The bands I'm thinking of are the ones that came about in my generation. That would mean Pulp, Suede (aka London Suede), Radiohead, Manic Street Preachers, Placebo, The Verve, et al.

I've spouted my praises over most of those bands several times in the past on this site. I'd give links, but you can search for yourself, it's easy and I'm lazy.

Today I woke up and I wanted to hear Suede. No, I needed to hear Suede. I needed the trash.

Most of those Britpop bands that got big when I was in high school have a '60s or '70s pre-cursor. Mostly because those bands are all more or less glam with a punk edge. No, I don't mean like Rancid, I mean like the New York Dolls.

I like to think of the two bands Pulp and Suede as being related even though they really aren't. They're very similar in their styles and sounds. Of course, the glam is there, it's practically all there is. I just realized that I keep referring to both bands in the present tense. Both are no more. Dead, done, down for the count. Anyhoo, I view Pulp as being like later David Bowie or maybe even like mid-period Roxy Music. Very smooth and suave with a lot of style. Suede are more like early Bowie like if he made an entire career out of the gritty Ziggy Stardust sound. Cross that with the soulful glam of T Rex.

Maybe, maybe it’s the clothes we wear,
The tasteless bracelets and the dye in our hair,
Maybe it’s our kookiness,
Or maybe, maybe it’s our nowhere towns,
Our nothing places and our cellophane sounds,
Maybe it’s our looseness,
But we’e trash, you and me,
We’re the litter on the breeze,
We’re the lovers on the streets,
Just trash, me and you,
It’s in everything we do,
It’s in everything we do...
Maybe, maybe it’s the things we say,
The words we’ve heard and the music we play,
Maybe it’s our cheapness,
Or maybe, maybe it’s the times we’ve had,
The lazy days and the crazes and the fads,
Maybe it’s our sweetness,
But we’re trash, you and me,
We’re the litter on the breeze,
We’re the lovers on the street,
Just trash, me and you,
It’s in everything we do,
It’s in everything we do...

Rouge River Rebels

In case you didn't already know...

A.K.A. I-D-I-O-T

The winner of the Hives Tussles in Brussels contest has been chosen! Don't you wish you emailed me? The winner is Annette. Congratulations.

For your reading pleasure, I submit to you my review of this new Hives DVD:

For the Hives fan, Tussles in Brussels is full of good stuff. All the videos from the most recent album Tyrannosaurs Hives (released January '04) are featured as well as all of their appearances performing live on TV. This isn't a common thing in the U.S. Of course, there's MTV and all that, but how often do you see a truly rocking band performing live for MTV on MTV? Rarely, if ever. In Europe, it's a common way for a new band to get noticed...they perform on Top of the Pops, or some similar regional program. All of those appearances are featured here.

There is also a concert presented in it's entirety from Brussels (sometime last year). I haven't seen many concert DVDs, but this one is presented nicely with individual chapters for each song, or you can just 'play all' and watch the whole show continuously. The sound is good, the video quality is good (digital, I believe). Lots of different camera angles, all band members get fairly equal attention. The crowd is lovin' it the whole time, and it seems to be a pretty big venue. For Detroiters, imagine the floor space of the State Theater with a mezzanine and balcony and a second balcony that wrap around on three sides not just the back end. The venue was jam-packed. It was a good long set, a little over an hour. While I know the focus was the Hives, I would've liked to have seen maybe a couple songs from the opening act. But I admit, I have no idea who the opening act was.

Also added to the DVD is a documentary of The Hives titled "The Hives, Hinduism, and Me." The style of the docu is slightly film noir with narration made to sound like Humphrey Bogart or some similar gravel-voiced night hawk type. It's presented as an investigation into the history of the band. There's lots of animated clip art and background material on the band. Pelle's unusual command of the English language is addressed as the result of an accident when the band was playing a show and he hit his head on an amp. He woke up and spoke perfect English with a Southern accent. He also awoke with a cockiness exemplified in his stage banter, i.e. "we are the best band in the world!" The film also addresses the question of Randy Fitzsimmons. If you're familiar with the band, you may have noticed that on all albums, the only listed songwriter is Randy Fitzsimmons. In interviews, the band has noted that Randy is the only songwriter and that he is the 'sixth member' of the Hives, but that he is very reclusive and does not want to be onstage. He does not want to be interviewed, and he does not want to be a public figure, yet he is supposedly the band's sole songwriter and their guiding force. What is not addressed in the documentary is that the Swedish group Svenska Tonsattares Internationella Musikbyra (aka Swedish Performing Rights Society) lists Randy Fitzsimmons as a pseudonym for Nicolaus Almqvist (aka Nick Arson). Nicolaus happens to be one of the guitarists for the Hives and Pelle Almqvist's brother. Pelle is the singer. More intensive investigation by people more curious than I have found that there is no one registered as a Swedish citizen with the name Randy Fitzsimmons or other variation on the name Randy such as Randall. I don't care that much, but it definitely creates a mystique around the band, and it's probably better that we don't know the truth. A good rock n' roll myth that's only half believable is still good. The rest of the documentary presents the history of the band from their beginning in their small hometown of Fagersta, and their rise through the music industry. Much of their history is told to the viewer as barely credible legend, but it's fun anyway. At first I found the odd narration annoying, but it grew on me.

Overall, for fans of the Hives, I recommend Tussles in Brussels, it was fun. For the casual fan, it's still a worthwhile document of the band. Click the DVD cover below to view a trailer.

Also, congratulations to Annette for winning the Hives DVD! Keep watching for more contests coming soon.

Blues From A Gun

I was just scanning the news on Drudge Report, and came across some interesting things:

The big headline right now seems to be whether or not California governor Arnold Schwarzenegger will grant clemency to Stanley "Tookie" Williams, the founder of the LA-based gang The Crips. Williams is due to be executed tomorrow at 12:02 for three murders from the '80s. In his past 13 years on death row at San Quentin, he's denounced his former life as a thug, apologized for founding the Crips, written children's books teaching against gang life, and has had his name repeatedly submitted for consideration for the Nobel peace and literature prizes. His supporters who include big names such as Snoop Dogg and Jamie Foxx have asked Governor Schwarzenegger to take Williams' turnaround into consideration.

After thousands of white men started attacking Arabs in a suburb of Sydney (Aus) last night, the rioting still continues. Much like Paris, this makes me wonder why some countries are so accepting of immigrants, yet refuse to acknowledge their native culture? That's how these clashes come up. Although, in Paris, it was the foreign immigrants who rose up against their oppressors. This incident is slightly different. Apparently, two youths of Middle Eastern origin attacked a lifeguard last week, and in a classic move of sweeping generalization (that goes hand in hand with racism), the white young men of Sydney reacted violently.

It sounds like Israel doesn't like the thought of Iran having nuclear weapons. Shit, who does? But instead of trying the peaceful thing and talking it through, Israel is preparing their armed forces for an attack on uranium-rich civilian sites in Iran. This will all take place in March after Mohamed El-Baradei, recent Nobel peace prize winner and current head of the International Atomic Energy Agency makes an announcement regarding the extent of Iran's uranium enrichment activities. Iran claims they want it for energy, but Israel claims it's for weaponry. He said, she said, how cute is that?

Yesterday, Pope Benedict proclaimed that "In today's consumer society, this time of the year unfortunately suffers from a sort of commercial 'pollution' that threatens to alter its real spirit." This pollution, is in essence, materialism. Note that the pope said this when giving his weekly Angelus blessing from St. Peter's Basilica. The balcony that he stood on to make the blessing is made of fine white marble, the basilica is domed in gold, his hands probably weigh five pounds from all the jewel-encrusted bling, and he wears a big fat gold crucifix around his neck. Do as I say, not as I do, right?

And, lastly, the pro-gay cowboy movie, Brokeback Mountain had a huge opening weekend. It was also named Best Picture by the LA Film Critics Association this weekend. The release was very limited, but for a small opening, the box office intake was big - a lot bigger than most small-opening films. I don't have a problem with a film being pro-gay or pro-cowboy or whatever, but I think it's funny that so many people are excited to see what happens with this one because it's about gay cowboys. Like liberals everywhere are just waiting for Rush Limbaugh to denounce it and for Tom DeLay to call it an affront to the 'merican way of life. I guess we'll just have to sit back and wait and see what happens.

For a much more interesting take on world news, I suggest checking out the BBC instead. They actually do articles on the same kinds of frivolity listed above, but they put more focus on the shit that really matters.

The Napoli Is Gone

Every week I get an email in my inbox from Model D, an online magazine about Detroit. Its fairly new, and a bit commercial, but not annoyingly so. Unlike the many worthwhile Detroit blogs, Model D has a more news magazine feel to it. Does that make sense? Basically, it's less like the gossip on the forums of Detroityes, and more like the professional news style of the Metro Times online. But it's not all serious, and it certainly isn't very diverse. In fact, it's entirely about Detroit and written by professional and semi-professional journalists.

The goal of Model D is to "connect you with the latest growth and investment news about Detroit’s neighborhoods." That sounds a little boring, but it really isn't.

Anyway, there was an article in last week's edition titled "Detroit Myths Debunked." You can read it here. There are some interesting points made like the lack of a single good grocery store in the downtown area, which is made up for by several specialized shops as well as Eastern Market. But one myth bothered me. The author stated that the only brunch in Detroit can be had at 'greasy spoons'. She then goes on to tell us about two newly opened restaurants: The Detroit Breakfast House & Grill and Mosaic. The former is a newer hoity-toity brunch spot with a dress code, and Mosaic is an upscale joint in Greektown. Most Detroiters who go out to brunch regularly don't want to spend more than $20 for their Eggs Benedict, but these two places are the sort that do just that. What the author fails to realize is that there are many places in the city and just outside of it where you can get breakfast without polishing your spoon on your napkin before using it.

I understand that the point of the article was most likely meant to push two newer Detroit restaurants, but I'm irked that the author glossed over all the other brunch options in town, generalizing them as "greasy spoons."

I also find it hard to believe that no one has referred her to the new brunch at Union Street in Midtown. Or maybe she isn't considering that part of the city 'downtown'? It sure as hell is to all the people who hang out around there but live in the 'burbs. What about brunch at Atlas World Bistro on Woodward just north of Foxtown? Maybe it wasn't expensive enough for her. I'll take their Turkey Benedict for under ten dollars any day over an over-priced Crabcake Benedict at a restaurant with a dress-code (Detroit Breakfast House & Grill).

And if she's explored Eastern Market so thoroughly, has she not noticed the Russell Street Deli (and their almost-too-good vegetarian sandwiches)?

Up until last weekend, she could've checked out Sidestreet Cafe in Hamtramck, which I know isn't Detroit proper, but close enough. In my opinion, they had one of the best Saturday and Sunday brunches in the area. Unfortunately, the store next door to it burned last weekend and took down the Cafe with it.

Speaking of Cafes, the author could also check out the Majestic Cafe on Woodward in Midtown where you can get eggs with cheddar and chorizo served with warm flour tortillas as well as items from their regular menu including mediterranean specialties.

Of course, there's also La Dolce Vita on Woodward just north of McNichols. LDV's Sunday brunch is purely indulgent without being obscenely expensive. And, while their normal menu attracts a slightly upscale crowd, the Sunday brunches are so informal that one day out of the month is designated as the Pyjama Brunch. Their service is impeccable, the coffee is usually served with a cinnamon stick, the bottomless bloody marys just don't quit, and the food is good.

Oh, and yes, that's in Detroit, too. Model D, I suggest you hire a new fact-checker, if in fact you have one.

Mommy, Mommy, Mommy!

Last night I was talking to a friend, and she was talking about a run-in years ago with some cops. She then said "dicks..." and I said "hate the police."

This is the thing, it sounds like a normal response, or like maybe I meant that I hate the police and that yes, I think they're dicks. Not quite. She said "Dicks," and the first thing I thought of was the song "Hate the Police" from the Dicks.

Then I started thinking this morning where I can use skills like that. Then I remembered that I already use those skills right here.

So, on Friday I picked up the album "Summerteeth" from Wilco. Outside of the recent live album "Kicking Television" and the "Mermaid Avenue" records, I now have everything from the band, and I fucking love it. I remember when this album came out in 1999, and hearing someone playing it at work. I liked it, but I had yet to become a Wilco fan.

Flash forward a couple years and I re-discovered the Wilco album "Being There" from 1997 (I think). I acquired it when working as the Music Director at WSGR-FM in Port Huron, MI. The album moved with me when I moved to Detroit in the summer of '97, but I didn't pay much attention to it until years later. I always liked it, and I knew there was something there, but I also knew it was something I had to sit on for awhile until my tastes caught up to it. So I got all fanatical about Being There, and then I went and bought "A.M." the first album, and a couple Uncle Tupelo albums (pre-Wilco Jeff Tweedy band), and then "Yankee Hotel Foxtrot" came out. Of course, that changed everything. The band went places that were hinted at on "Summerteeth," but I didn't know that because I hadn't really paid attention to it. I just knew that YHF was progressive for what had come to be known as 'alt-country' (of which Wilco are flag-bearers). A couple years later "A Ghost Is Born" came out, and of course, that was even more progressive and quite far-removed from the alt-country scene they originally helped define.

So, lately I've been listening to a lot of the Wilco records as well as Ryan Adams' solo stuff. I was talking to a friend last week and she asked me what Wilco record is my favorite. I told her "Being There," and she said hers was "Summerteeth," and I realized I didn't have that one.

I bought it on Friday, and I don't know how I could've overlooked this. It's nothing like A.M., and a lot more like Being There in that it's poppy and there are some unusual elements (unusual to alt-country anyway) like slight electro things going on.

If you're into Wilco, love the lyrics, the progressive sound, and Jeff Tweedy's voice (an acquired taste for some), definitely check out Summerteeth.

Feel Good Hit Of the Summer

Queens of the Stone Age have a new live DVD out. It's called "Over the Years and Through the Woods." Click the DVD cover art below to check out a trailer for the new release:

Then, click here to check out the new video for "Burn the Witch."

Cheers.

The Beardo Analogues, Take 1

Beardo =

(an·a·logue) - A way of transmitting speech in the form of a continually varying electrical audio signal.

Way back in the spring of 1981, my dad took the family on a vacation to California. We saw my mom's aunts and uncles in Los Angeles and Torrance, we saw Disneyland (although I don't remember that at all), the San Diego Zoo, and a bunch of other crap that was probably repressed in my young psyche over a decade ago.

We stayed for what seemed like a month, and then my dad decided that we were going to move to California. I was six years old. At that point I was in my second half of the school year in kindergarten at Washington Elementary school. A decision was made to fly me back by myself so that I could stay with my grandparents and finish the school year while the rest of the family looked for a place to live. My sister wasn't old enough for school yet, so she got to stay in the hot-ass desert. The only memories I have of flying on a United Airlines plane by myself at six years old are that (a) the stewardesses were all really nice to me (and hot), (b) the lunch that I was served was a basket full of crackers and breadsticks and crap and a submarine sandwich that was so big I couldn't get my mouth around it, and (c) I got to go up in the cockpit and they gave me a little 'junior pilot' pin or whatever. No professional basketball players or talk of Greco-Roman wrestling was involved.

So I finished the school year and by that time the rest of the family was back in Michigan. My dad found a job at a Sears Roebuck as a service repairman (which is what he had been doing here), and a house to rent in Banning, CA. Are you familiar with Banning at all? It's in the middle of the fucking desert. Surrounded by the Palm Desert, the San Bernardino Mountains, thousands of acres of wind-propellers creating clean renewable energy, and only about a half hour away from the San Andreas fault line. Good times. Maybe you've heard of Palm Springs as a resort area for rich people or San Bernardino as a stop on the way from LA to Vegas? Those cities are nearby. Maybe you've heard of the massive Coachella music festival that takes place every summer. That happens in the Indio/La Quinta area, which also isn't far away. Basically, the Palm Desert is about an hour east of Los Angeles. Again, in the middle of the fucking desert. Death Valley isn't far away, either.

I remember the house we were renting was a split-level a lot like our house in Marysville. It was all cement block painted white with a cement block fence painted white going all around the front and back yard. This was common in tract housing in the west in the 1950s. As far as the white-painted cement block is concerned, anyway. Every morning when the grass was still dewy yet there were probably about a hundred snails all along the fence. They were huge, too. I don't think I ever saw a snail up close before or after that. The bedroom that was mine was the first door on the left after you walked in the front door of the house. I think that was the biggest bedroom I ever had until recently. One wall of the room was full of drawers built right into the walls. I never did find out why there were so many drawers of different shapes built into it, but it saved space, so that was nice.

The neighbor kids across the street had HBO, which was kinda rare back then. I can't remember the boy's name, but he was my age. He was pretty normal, watched a LOT of HBO. His little sister had muscular dystrophy and used a wheelchair. Oddly, I have absolutely no memories of their parents.

Down the street was a seriously fucked up family. Even then I could tell how fucked up they were. I remember there was always a trail or three of ants going to and from their house up and down the driveway. Their oldest son was a fuckup with eyes too close together, a mullet, and a lot of freckles. He was probably 12 at the time. He may as well have been one of the kids who hang out behind the 7-11 smoking cigarettes, asking people to buy beer for them. That's how I saw him then and that's how I see him now. One time he tried shooting my sister with a BB gun (she was 4). He missed, but I remember my dad threatening to kill him if he would've hit her. There was never any way to prove what he was trying to do, besides him bragging about it all the time to the neighbor kids. The same family had a younger son who was a year younger than me. He was a goofy looking kid with a lot of freckles and red hair. Bowl cuts suck, dude. That kid always seemed to be amped up on pounds of sugar at a time. Sort of like little Chrissy in the movie "Pecker."

His sister Christine was a different story altogether. We were the only two kids who got on the schoolbus at our bus stop. The rest of the kids in the area were too young for school or a lot older. She was a year older than me and in second grade. Early on, I was instructed (by her) to go to her house on the way to the bus stop and wait for her, then we'd walk together. She started calling me her boyfriend eventually. One time she told me that her dad said I was a "bum." Who says that about a six year old kid? Not to mention, the house I lived in was always clean (because my mom had a lot of time on her hands - she wasn't working). Their house had thousands of little arthropod tenants, mine did not. Whose home more closely resembles that of a 'bum'?

Anyway, the school there sucked, my ADD went undiagnosed, I had to spend half a day twice a week in a portable outside the high school where I was 'treated' for my speech problems, and the first grade teacher twice told me that I "would never amount to anything." More good times in Cal-i-for-ni-ay.

In the desert out on Route 10 between Banning and Palm Springs there's this little town called Cabazon. Okay, I don't know if there's really a town there, I just know there's a truck stop and the area is referred to as Cabazon. If you've ever seen "Pee Wee's Big Adventure," you've seen the 'Wheel-Inn Cafe' and it's famous cement dinosaurs. We stopped there a couple times, but the dinosaurs were always closed. "Sorry kids, the dinosaurs are closed today." It feels weird typing that, it sounds funny.

After six months of hell in the desert, my mom, my sister and I got on a Greyhound bus in the middle of the night with a couple of suitcases and moved back to Michigan without my dad. He re-married and then divorced some woman in La Quinta whom he had another son with, then he moved up to Oregon where I think he still lives. Somewhere out there I have a 14-year old half-brother named Steven.

That's all that I really found interesting or worthwhile in California, the Dinosaurs of Cabazon, the acres and acres of wind-propelled turbines quietly producing clean energy in the desert, and the little girl down the street. Otherwise, fuck that place, I hate California.

New To Me, and New To Me

Have you ever heard of this band Two Gallants? Me, neither. But, a link to a streaming MP3 was just emailed to me, and I thought I should pass it on to you, because this shit is good. Blues, bare bones, punk in imaginative ways, you gotta check it out. Click the pic for the MP3 of Las Cruces Jail.

Also, their latest album is on Saddle Creek Records, which sounds odd at first, but then again, it makes sense considering the good taste those people seem to have in music...

I'm Saving Myself for Nichelle Nichols

Something new I've been listening to this week and highly recommend:

A short time after I moved to Detroit in August of 1997, I started working at a popular bar in the Midtown neighborhood. Some of you may have heard of it, or at least the bar upstairs: The Magic Stick. Downstairs from that now somewhat legendary venue is a bowling alley with a popular bar connected to it: The Garden Bowl. At that point in time, many local music (and garge rock) luminaries were hanging out there.

The day shifts blew, but I worked two night shifts, Wednesdays and Sundays. Most of my four years at that job were spent with Ko Shih Chien (sp?) as the bartender while I was her barback and bowling counter guy.

Okay, so Ko had this idea to get more people in the bar. She started booking relatively unknown bands (mostly local) to play free shows in the bowling alley lounge area. Keep in mind that this was before the White Stripes were on a major label, before the Greenhornes licensed a song to Jack Daniels, back when the Electric 6 were the Wild Bunch and never dreamed of touring places like New Zealand, and no one ever thought anyone would care about modern Detroit music beyond Kid Rock (who had just broke out).

On those nights, I saw the Go when Jack White was still in the band. I saw Jack White play two solo shows just with his guitar. The Greenhornes came up from Cincinnati and blew us all away. The Soledad Brothers kicked over chairs and rocked out standing on the tables. The Compulsive Gamblers played an unannounced show with Jack White and Ian Ammons (The Piranhas) playing guest guitar and Tim Vulgar (Clone Defects/Human Eye) singing on one song. I saw a one-off soul instrumental ensemble involving ex-members of Godzuki and They Come In Threes which resulted in a troupe of Argentinian acrobats in town for the Auto Show dancing on the bar. Well, dance contests on the bar were fairly common whenever Ko was working, now that I think about it.

Going back a little ways, before I moved to the city I had heard of Crypt Records and started buying up a lot of their albums because I was diggin' the trashy rock/blues/punk shit they were putting out. One of those bands was The Gories. I knew they were from Detroit and that by the time I lived there they weren't together. When working with Ko, she had told me about this newer band called The Dirtbombs. It was a project from Mick Collins, who had been one third of The Gories along with Danny Dollrod of the Demolition Dollrods.

Mick's idea was that the band would only put out a set amount of 45s (15 I believe), and that each one would be totally different in style and sound. He wanted to be like Wire, or The Swell Maps, where every record was high in quality and unique with each release. Also unique to his vision was that there would be two drummers and two bass players along with him singing and playing guitar. In time one of the bass player positions morphed into fuzz bass, but that's peripheral.

I think it may have been after the third or fourth 45 that Mick was talked into recording a full-length record. He really didn't want to, but he did anyway. It was the third single, "Tina Louise" that I remember Ko talking about and how good it was. That first album came out in Spring of '98 and was called "Horndog Fest." Only about three out of the twelve songs were 'song' songs. The kind you can sing along to and maybe even dance to. Those ones were pop garage type stuff. Simple, fun, and easy. The other nine songs were fucking out there. I mean out there. Dense with guitars with vocals buried deep in the mix. I don't know what the hell was going on, but I did like it. It was good, just not the sort of stuff you can play at a party where people want to dance, if you know what I mean.

Then they released four more 45s, then another full-length album. "Ultraglide In Black" would be the record that would put the band on tour all over the world. Unfortunately, it wasn't the clearest representation of the band's sound because it was almost all soul and funk covers except for one original track. Don't get me wrong, it's a mind-blowing record. They bring new life to a lot of Motown and Stax/Volt hits. In re-working the intro to Curtis Mayfield's "Kung Fu," Collins somehow manages to emulate the intro to "Bela Lugosi's Dead" from Bauhaus. Seriously. And it doesn't sound a bit out of place.

Three more 45s, a couple of appearances on John Peel's BBC radio program, several tours taking them to all corners of the globe, and they release "Dangerous Magical Noise" in 2003. Okay, so this album was a much better display of their sound. There are two covers included at the end, but they ain't soul in the most obvious sense, they're from Robyn Hitchcock and Brian Eno. Every song on this record, even the really wild ones are totally listenable and maybe even danceable. But don't get me wrong, there's punk on this one. And rock, and new wave, and soul, yet it doesn't sound forced at all. In fact, it's probably a perfect mix between "Horndog Fest" and "Ultraglide In Black." You get the raw trashy intensity and the soul all in one package.

So, a few EPs, 45s, obligatory compilation appearances, and that brings us to the here and now. 2005. Last month, the Dirtbombs released "If You Don't Already Have A Look." It's a compilation of all of their non-album songs, including all covers that didn't appear on an album. That's a total of 52 songs! FIFTY-TWO. Disc one is the originals and disc two is the covers. You can get this for the price of one album, but it's worth so much more.

You get all the diversity, tight song-writing, influences on sleeves, and 'fuck the garage scene' attitude of the Dirtbombs in that package. Totally worth the money.

So by now maybe you're wondering what Ko Shih Chien has to do with this. She's the girl up there on the cover of the album. She plays fuzz bass with the Dirtbombs. I find it interesting that the first time she told me about them, she didn't know how to play bass, loved the band, and was bartending at a craphole in Midtown Detroit. By the way, now she goes by Ko Melina Zydeco.