Every Band Should Have A Trumpet

If you enjoy bow ties and earnest, baroque indie pop, then you might like this video:



Until July 4th, Fanfarlo is distributing their stellar album, Reservoir, as a $1 digital download, available at their website.

Graffitistronaut

Awesomely Bad Unicorn Tattoos

There’s something really endearing about a horrendously terrible tattoo. For instance, anything with the Looney Tunes "Tasmanian Devil." Or the motto "Sex, Drugs & Rock &Roll." One could probably fashion an entire blog around this sort of thing.

There’s something far less compelling but slightly interesting about an ironically terrble tattoo. For some reason, winking insincerity makes it that much less enjoyable.

But it goes without saying that tattoos which feature unicorns exist in the rarified, upper stratosphere of either category. The photo gallery "30 Awesomely Bad Unicorn Tattoos" celebrates the amazing art and artlessness of this permanent skin genre.

Tasmanian devil riding a unicorn? Check. Unicorn copulating with a dolphin? Check. But what’s up with the “white power” unicorn festooned with a Nazi armband with rainbows in the foreground? Is that for real? It's on a guy's ass, so I really doubt it. Either way, it’s not that funny. But kind of funny. I’m so confused.

Anyway, when it comes to tattoos emblazoned with beasts of myth, unicorns are clearly the way to go.

Monkeystronaut

"In Huntsville, Ala., there is an unusual grave site where, instead of flowers, people sometimes leave bananas.

The gravestone reads: Miss Baker, squirrel monkey, first U.S. animal to fly in space and return alive. May 28, 1959."

NPR.org pays tribute to the unwilling simian test pilots of NASA’s early, bumbling attempts at space travel. Just kidding. No one has ever been to space. Seriously. No one. Ever.

Read: "After 50 Years, Space Monkeys Not Forgotten"

Floozyball

“If you will it, it is no dream (house)” – Theodor Herzl

I know. Mind-blowing. And what a great message for little girls: you can participate in rough and tumble sports just like the fellas, so long as you do it in a miniskirt and a slinky top. Also, blue eye shadow. No one likes a slouch.

But don’t get too excited. The Barbie foosball table isn’t on the market yet. This model was an exhibit at the International Design Festival in Berlin. That would explain the mostly Teutonic aspect of these lady athletes. Considering how awesomely creepy it looks, it’s probably safe to assume that it was created without the consent of Mattel, Inc.

If they ever do mass market an impaled, armless Barbie foosball table, and they should, I would hope that they would also release a wee little toy version for the rec room in Barbie’s Dream House. I think that it would really tie the room together.

Everything Tracy Jordan Said

30 Rock is one of the most consistently funny shows on network television. If you don’t think so, it’s probably because you don’t enjoy laughing. Possibly because of some kind of injury from a construction site accident that makes it painful for you to do so.

Unlikelywords.com recently posted a lovingly compiled transcript of every Tracy Jordan line from 30 Rock’s second season. It’s a completely rewarding and worthwhile read. For the benefit of those with infinitesimal attention spans, I’ve distilled the transcript down to ten choice lines, arranged in order of air-date chronology:

1. “I hate to see you like this, Ken Doll. It’s like an owl without a graduation cap. Heartbreaking!"

2. “What’s wrong, Ken? You got wife eyes!”

3. “But then he scores a basket even though he’s not a wolf anymore.”

4. “Larry, what everyone needs to do is just take a deep breath, calm down, and start preparing their bodies for the Thunderdome. That is the new law.”

5. “OK. Sorry it took me so long to answer. I was just thinking about how weird it is that we eat birds.”

6. “I had to. Friendship and trust in the entourage is the most important thing. Like that HBO show, John Adams.”

7. “We’re going out tonight, Jacky D, and we’re going to be tempted like Jesus in the wilderness. Jesus is my stereo guy and the Wilderness is a club I took him to once.”

8. “We’re dressing monkeys up as people and monkeys are playing with people as toys!”

9. “I feel like you’re not telling me something, Jack. Let me guess. You bought a sidecar for your motorcycle and your dog won’t stay in it.”

10. “My love child tracked me down. I was shocked, scared, angry. Like a dog in a sidecar when it comes loose from the motorcycle. But it turned out to be one of the best things that ever happened to me.”

When He Turns Red, Get Under The Bed

Shining

A well crafted movie preview (or “trailer” as it’s called in “the biz”) can make a bad movie look enticing and make a good movie look dreary and unappealing. This reminds me of that time that the preview for Billy Elliot made me cry. Dance, Billy, dance! I partly blame Enya. Her music is very powerful.

The video trailer below, entitled “Shining,” is a tribute to the magical alchemy of clever editing.


“Shining” was created by Robert Ryang, a Manhattan film editor’s assistant. It was the winning entry for a 2005 film contest sponsored by the New York chapter of the Association of Independent Creative Editors. The contest rules were simple: take any film and make a trailer which casts that film in a different genre. Sound and dialogue could be altered, visual images could not.

And, presto! Stanley Kubrick’s stylistic horror classic (and arguably, one of the few truly successful film adaptations of a Stephen King novel) is transformed into a hilariously moronic tale of a jaded writer and his relationship with a precocious yet vulnerable kid in need of a father figure. About A Boy, Three Men and a Baby, Annie, Kolya, Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom…..I love this genre!

I can’t tell what’s more frightening: the evocative terror of The Shining in its original form or the idea that a cinematic masterpiece could so easily be transmogrified into Jerry Maguire style dreck through crafty, selective editing and an overused Peter Gabriel tune. Either way, it's pretty scary. It’s a dark, dark world out there.

All the Presidents' Girls

It’s always kind of weird when Europeans take an intense interest in American history and governance. Take for instance, Alexis de Tocqueville’s On Democracy in America, wherein a curious little Frenchman pokes around the continent for nine months making furtive, creepy comments and predictions about the American form of government in his creepy little notebook. He predicts that the country will be divided by the topic of slavery! A mere twenty years before the Civil War! (Not impressive) He predicts that the United States and Russia will one day be rival superpowers! A full century before it happens! (Very impressive) Sure, On Democracy in America is a classic and is rightly considered one of great contemporary analyses of early U.S. government, but it’s still a bit awkward when people from the old world get all up in our business.

Kind of similar but totally different is English artist Annie Kevans' new exhibition, All the President’s Girls, a series of portraits depicting the various mistresses of the U.S. Presidents. Hands off foreigner, that’s our dirty laundry! The exhibition has been called “mildly offensive” by critics in the U.S. The only thing that I find mildly offensive is that this:













Does not at all resemble this:
An artist with integrity would not have vainly attempted to varnish ugly or unpleasant truths.

I was a bit surprised that the series only features 11 of J.F.K.’s many storied conquests. What about the other 287? I was also surprised by the inclusion of William Rufus deVane King, James Buchanan’s old friend and roommate. Or “roommate,” depending on your interpretation of ambiguous historical evidence. Genocidal cut-up Andrew Jackson allegedly referred to King as “Miss Nancy” and “Aunt Fancy.” What a wit. James Buchanan was the only U.S. President who was unmarried during his tenure in office. He was also the only U.S. President who never married period. On its face, that doesn’t mean anything, but tongues will wag. So what? He preferred the company of men. Who doesn’t?

The only thing about this situation that I find upsetting is that, if we did have a secret gay U.S. President, the person that I don’t want to find it out from is some snarky British art type. You should be ashamed of yourself, Europe. A polite guest does not poke around in other people’s closets, thank you very much.

Dear LOL, GFYS

Texting language is most likely here to stay. But that doesn’t mean that I have to like it. I blame Prince. I may be “Crazy 4 U,” Prince, but I also hold you accountable for all of the nonsense abbreviations and intentional misspellings which are degrading the English language. And yes, I know that I sound like “Old Man Withers” sitting on his porch and yelling at the neighborhood kids for being “too dang rambunctious.”

Out of all of the myriad, obnoxious abbreviations used in emails and text messages, the one most worthy of being dragged to the pillory and beaten has to be “LOL,” which is all but ubiquitous now that people are all aTwitter and aTwatter with their stupid 140 character limits. My main problem with “LOL” is that people love to use it to denote things that are only slightly funny at best:

“Uh oh. Going to be late for school again. LOL!” “My boss is wearing a really ugly tie. LOL!” “I sure hope I win the lottery today. LOL!” “I forgot my umbrella. And now it’s raining. LOL!”

None of these things would make a normal human “laugh out loud.” They probably wouldn’t even elicit a smile.

“LOL” is most commonly invoked as a cheap acknowledgement that the other person has attempted a bit of humor, however lamely. Or that the writer has attempted a bit of humor, however lamely. Or that they’ve encountered a situation that is slightly ridiculous, embarrassing or overwhelming. And yet, “LOL” makes a vainglorious claim about a physiological reaction which, in all likelihood, did not occur. It's all just elaborate shorthand for emotional fraud. And no one likes to be lied to with abbreviations.

How then is one to differentiate between robust and ingenuous "out loud" laughter and its false and sinister double? How can we regain a sense of emotional clarity in our daily communication? To this end, I've created an efficient little abbreviation of my own to designate when someone is actually, physically “laughing out loud.”

ILLOLRTJMSILOLWSWMHCMTSBNATLOL

I Literally Laughed Out Loud Rather Than Just Mindlessly Saying I Laughed Out Loud When Something Was Moderately Humorous Causing Me To Smile But Not Actually To Laugh Out Loud

See? It’s fast and easy. As I have yet to trademark this new invention, feel free to use it until further notice. I hope this clears things up a bit and saves us all a lot of time and confusion.

For What It's Worth

The Staple Singers were an amazing band. Led by Roebuck “Pop” Staples, with his children Pervis, Yvonne and Mavis, they were the first family of soul. That’s right, suck it Jackson 5. Most of your albums were written and recorded by studio musicians. Taking into account that The Ramones weren’t brothers (nor did any one of them actually have the surname “Ramone”), one could make a credible case that The Staple Singers were the best family band period.

This musical supremacy is cogently demonstrated by their live cover performance of Buffalo Springfield’s “For What It’s Worth.” It’s an already powerful song (I’ve always loved the line “what a field day for the heat”) lent a greater urgency and edge by the Staple Singers stripped down sound. Pops Staples does more with a single electric guitar and handclaps than most bands can summon with a full instrumental backing.

Despite the pervasive presence of protest and social commentary in their music, The Staple Singers never came across as preachy or heavy handed. Their lyrics, while addressing overarching societal problems, were always really positive and emphasized the necessity of self awareness and individual change in order to effect a larger change. I find that refreshing.

Lux Interior, R.I.P.

Lux Interior died this month. He was the lead singer of The Cramps. He was one of the all time great rock & roll frontmen. He was a legend.

Below is grainy footage from The Cramps now legendary free concert for the patients of the Napa State Mental Hospital in 1978.


I can’t really fathom what compelled the hospital administrators to invite this band of depraved freaks to play at their facility. Maybe they thought The Cramps would fit in. They did seem to make a real connection with their audience. I really like Lux’s intro: “Somebody told me you people are crazy! But I’m not so sure about that! You seem to be alright to me!”

The Cramps were an amazingly innovative band. They are rightly credited as being one of the early architects of psychobilly, a combustible mix of punk and rockabilly. Along with bands like Television and The Ramones, they emerged from the nascent punk scene at CBGB’s in the late 1970’s.

Like The Ramones, they never stopped touring, which created the illusion that they would be around forever.
The Cramps always seemed to be playing somewhere near you whenever Halloween rolled around. And also like The Ramones, throughout the life of the band, they never altered their aesthetic: a synthesis of 50’s and 60’s trash teen culture, early rock & roll, horror B-movies, lurid sexploitation, hot rods, deranged psychedelia and leather bound S&M fetishism. They pursued this with an impressively single-minded intensity, distilling and elevating kitsch Americana into a weird art form. It’s an obviously naïve and unrealistic notion, but I always secretly wondered whether the persona of both bands was the same on and off-stage. They just never seemed to break character.

Despite The Cramps’ eternal fascination with the seedy and low brow, their lyrics were always really smart and witty and involved a sometimes surprisingly expansive range of references: a little Man Ray here, a little Ed Wood there. On a basic level, their music has a really pungent sense of FUN. Without question, The Cramps have the some of the most radiantly awesome and funny song titles of any band in rock & roll history. Here are but a few examples:

“What's Inside a Girl?”
“(Hot Pool Of) Womanneed”
“The Creature From the Black Leather Lagoon”
“I Wanna Get in Your Pants”
“Let's Get Fucked Up”
“Like a Bad Girl Should”
“Bend Over, I'll Drive”
“Dames, Booze, Chains and Boots”
"How Come You Do Me?"
“Eyeball In My Martini
"Journey to the Center of a Girl"

The Cramps had a continuously changing roster of musicians. More than twenty musicians shuffled in and out of the The Cramps lineup since its inception in 1976, the most famous being Kid Congo Powers, who later played percussion with Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds, and Sean Yseult, the bassist from White Zombie.

The only permanent members were Lux Interior and Poison Ivy. They were married. For over three decades. They were the sweetest rock & roll couple. And much unlike more conventional bands composed of spouses like Abba, Fleetwod Mac, The Mamas & the Papas or The White Stripes, Lux and Ivy’s musical partnership didn’t seem to diminish their romantic connection. As Henry Rollins warmly observed in his excellent remembrance of Lux in the L.A. Times, “You get the idea that there was something very decent about them, that there was something almost like your dad about how they were. And it seems to me that Lux and Ivy were fairly insular, away from the general roar of things, which makes them interesting to me.”

Here’s the music video for “Bikini Girls With Machine Guns:"



I remember the first time that I saw this NRA friendly music video when I was in junior high (broadcast on “Request Video,” an astonishingly diverse and forward thinking 30-minute afternoon alternative music video program on a shady UHF station beamed out from Los Angeles) and just freaking out. “What the fuck?! They let people make music like this?! Is that guy wearing a vinyl suit with ladies shoes?! Why isn’t everything like this?” They were wild and they were dangerous and they kind of blew my barely pubescent mind.

The Cramps will be missed. Lux Interior was a giant among men. A giant in patent leather pumps.