It is difficult to straddle the line between introspective and self-involved. Unless the self-absorption is being played up for laughs, sort of like the hapless jerkoff narrator of Death on the Installment Plan. But for singer/songwriter types, you either have to have a collection of stories so amazing that no one cares if they can relate to them or be able to make one’s private pain a conduit. There’s also the Michael Gira method of making things so batshit and brutal that frustrated rage becomes a catharsis sideshow, which is a better category for this particular record.
Monthly Archives: April 2008
grab ten discs at random from the shelf; play a single track from each; listen to the whole thing even if it sucks; and then present a picture
EXPLANATORY NOTE: I’d had some serious tooth work done about two weeks ago, so this is a combination of painkillers, pain and aimless whimsy that became a “great idea.” Under the light of morning it doesn’t seem so hot, but the pictures make me laugh. Especially since I don’t quite remember editing them.
This was easily the best tax day I’ve spent in a long time. Of course, I file months ahead of time to keep ahead of the voluntary taxation trainwrecking machine we call the Federal Government, but I am unusually paranoid about such things. Though I cast a very dim view toward the “tax amnesty” types and their scams/religious crusades, I do understand the crucible in which their fear/joyful mania is forged. Continue reading
Terminal 5 used to be Club Exit, which I knew from radio ads and little else. Think a guido meat machine and you’re probably not too far off the mark – it’s not this venue in Greenpoint, though. It’s an interesting venue – loud but not too painful, cool and crisp and security was pretty good in terms of not beating people up and whatnot. Not that this was that sort of crowd, far too educated – and rail-thin – to engage in such ROCK AND ROLL shenanigans.