Thursday, May 24, 2007

Mick meets the Lads and more....

This made me smile today.


"Singer Alex Turner...was presented with the gong by The Clash legend Mick Jones, who joked: 'A couple of years ago Arctic Monkeys supported us in Sheffield. Now look where they are.'

Wednesday, May 23, 2007

tv can be ok...sometimes

Working Class Hero

by John Lennon

As soon as you're born they make you feel small
By giving you no time instead of it all
Till the pain is so big you feel nothing at all
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be

They hurt you at home and they hit you at school
They hate you if you're clever and they despise a fool
Till you're so fucking crazy you can't follow their rules
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be

When they've tortured and scared you for twenty odd years
Then they expect you to pick a career
When you can't really function you're so full of fear
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be

Keep you doped with religion and sex and TV
And you think you're so clever and class less and free
But you're still fucking peasants as far as I can see
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be

There's room at the top they are telling you still
But first you must learn how to smile as you kill
If you want to be like the folks on the hill
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
If you want to be a hero well just follow me
If you want to be a hero well just follow me

American Idol rocked hard tonight, the masses had fun--me included. Guest stars galore! (I just kept expecting to see Sir Paul strut out, especially after they did a goddamn tribute to Sgt. Pepper. wtf.) Oh, and 74 million fucking people voted!? At least Green Day knew the value of such a world stage. The boys did "Working Class Hero" righteously and it was such a wonderful antidote to anything to God-crazed or syrupy. Speaking of syrup (the most delicious, rich, sassy blend imaginable)...Congrats, J Sparks. You fucking deserve it. Right on.

Tuesday, May 22, 2007

"let FURY have the hour, anger can be power...did you know that you can use it?"

Unfortunately, my anger has not been very useful lately.

Can't even put my finger on where it's all comin' from...(and really can't get into it for those who read this...cuz, remember this is about the shit that I'm *into*, not the shit that brings me down.)

Wish I could be like Strummer and *use* it...but I haven't.

Things are looking up, though... there is so much to be excited for! Like...

*it's totally fucking summer and it actually feels like it! well...sometimes

*...and that means FESTIVAL season, mis amigos! can't hardly wait... Lolla, you're calling my name--but you are the furthest away...almost at the *end* of summer! ah, but there's so much more to look forward to until then!

*The Strummer movie is coming out (dunno when actually...)! Just read a fantastic write-up in this week's NME and next week's issue is all about the muthafuckin' Clash. wordemup.

*White Stripes and the phenomenon of "Icky Thump" is ubiquitous! Interviews in the NME and Entertainment Weekly are oh-so-fun for me to read. See what argument Jack picks with the interviewer! What questions will he refuse to answer? Watch as his cigarette-free fingers fiddle about! How will Meg dazzle (or bore) the interviewer with her quiet charm?

*Johnny Depp and Keef are holding each other's skull-ringed hands and arms on the cover of Rolling Stone (as you can plainly see above) *sigh*

* THREE DAY WEEKEND is approaching! and I'm not following the rest of the lemmings off the cliff of road-trip-insanity! I am staying in the city and just chiiiiiiilin'. Should be golden.

>>and now, to acknowledge a lil' sadness of today, the 22nd. the fucking BRMC are in town, and once again, I will not be seeing them. [see entry from more than a year ago about E Beth and me attempting to see them and the whole thing going down like an Arctic Monkeys song, with all the "smirking faces and the boys in black" watching us walk away, rejayed. boo-hoo] But, hey, it's cool, man. For as much as I totally dig "Baby 81" (totally named after *me*, y'know...born in '81 and all...) I can stand not to see 'em. I guess...whateves. I will always let the magical Coachella experience shine on in my memory....>>

Thursday, May 17, 2007

I moved

so, other things have taken priority over setting up my poor, neglected computer in the new place.

Sad, huh?

Paul sent me this link to Kate Sullivan's...words (?) on the White Stripes' new one, "Icky Thump," and I just don't fucking get it, really. I kinda dig the idea of what she's trying to say...but it just don't jive with me.

This is the argument made:

It’s a strange thing, but as visceral and gritty as their sound may be, the essence of this band is located between Jack White’s ears. In fact, they are so cerebral, they need those primitive sonics to prevent them from becoming a pure concept band. In this sense, the White Stripes aren’t Led Zeppelin; they’re the Velvet Underground: an art project in the form of a rock band.

I totally dig what she's on about...but to compare the White Stripes sound in any way to the Velvet Underground is just....strange.

Sure, Jack White is a strange bird who loves the ideas of art and fucking with journalists and dressing in a calculated fashion. But when it comes to the music, they are furthest thing from art rock you can find. They are the blues, for crying out loud. Simple, gritty, raw, wild and primitive. To me, you might as well say that Jimi Hendrix was doing an art thang....Art is too cold, too un-rock'n'roll to be *in* rock'n'roll and that's why it's always bothered me.

So, when the White Stripes put out a fantastic blues-based rock record named "De Stijl" after a Dutch art movement (kajshgahg) it still makes me roll my eyes a bit, but I don't care. That record fucking rocks and for as much as I dig, actually love, Lou Reed and *appreciate* the Velvet *rarely* rocks. Y'know, shivers yer timbers. That kinda thing.

in the always comes down to:

Fuck art. Let's Dance.

Thursday, May 10, 2007

yes, Elvis Costello

was at the Arctic Monkeys' show on Monday night.


Tuesday, May 08, 2007

"...the last thing they want is for the feeling to end"

Absolutely frenzied...fraught with kinetic energy. sweaty, dancing madness. First Ave. was filled with an unprecedented *en-er-gy* (mad-fer-it-ness? yes.) last night as the Arctic Monkeys focused their brilliant powers to intoxicate the sold-out crowd of music freaks of all ages. There were mesmerized 12-year-olds mouthing along with Turner-lyrics as well as grey-haired old men headbanging to Matt Helder's (the birthday boy) beat. They knew all the words. They knew all the riffs-- "my people" in was remarkably satisfying to see other crazies around me as I looked around me through the sea of smiling faces.

"One of the best shows I've ever been to," that's what Fitzy had to say when the lights had come on and everyone was catching their breath.

It was. I totally agree. To be hit with an overwhelming sense of euphoria--the entire really was one of the top, top shows I have ever seen—by a long shot. Of course that has everything to do with the fact that every song (but one) they played I know every syllable to…..every beat….every break…..every guitar lick. and I can’t get enough of those brilliant lyrics on the recordings…

So, to be able to see it all live on stage, a few feet away from me as I moved spastically, crazily----like a rag doll (Jim once wrote that his body became like a dancing puppet/rag doll at a Bruce show…I totally understand now). My body couldn’t be contained, my smile couldn’t be wiped off, either.

Alex looked a bit tired (did he have a bit of cold, Mary? I dunno), a bit underwhelmed by it all at times—but still was putting his everything into his singing and playing. the consummate observer, commented on seeing "Mr. Box" (a First Ave dude, selling beer from a Bud Light box) go "back and forth" ..."thought it was just me imagination." One of the *only* other things he said, was a comment on spaz cases like *me*: "Relax, relax! Roll a spliff." Fucking loved it.

The sound was spectacular—Alex’s vocals were righteously high in the mix, Matt’s drums were manic and propulsive and animalistic. And we got a right good look at Jamie! We were right in front of him and he was so fun to watch. I figured it all out—sorta. He’s the one that came up with their band’s (questionable?) name. And he is one. HE’S a fucking Arctic Monkey, all right. Ruddy-cheeked and plump-lipped, his cute ears poked out from his shaggy-helmet-head of hair. The way his arms and hands seemed David-like-too-big for his body worked it, too. His long fingers strangled the guitar's neck and it looked slightly absurd--but totally fitting. His focus and precision was matched only by his wanna-be-punk-rock-so-bad guitar delivery. He fucking wailed. And he worked it out *hard*

The stand-out presence in the audience were the “’underds of blokes” that permeated First Ave. Loads of British rugby players, wearing bright red t-shirts, many who had a Union Jack scarf wrapped around their heads. One stood out---strikingly. He was younger, (most of the blokes looked over 35) and he was covered, head to toe in Britishness. His shirt was made of a Union Jack, as were his pants, and the scarf that covered his head. He emerged from the pit after the show was over, soaked in sweat (his and everyone else’s) and was wearing one of the biggest grins I have ever seen. he looked knackered, but so blissed out (exactly the way I felt). he didn’t say a word, but he looked at his friends and just shook his head in disbelief. I thought, they must be gobsmacked to see the biggest band in Britain at a small club in the States. I can’t imagine what that would be like for them! the look on this guy’s face said it all, though.

About ten minutes after the lights came up and the band ended their 75-minute barrage of musical explosion, we were all walking around stunned. I was standing on top of the stairs, watching the crowd disseminate below…and this sweaty, smiley (we ALL were, you see…) A young guy kinda looks around and at me and says, “Is that it? Are they done?” about the encore-less show. Being the hardcore freak that I am, I just nodded yes, and smiled. Poor guy, I thought, he thinks there’s supposed to be an encore—like EVERY OTHER SHOW YOU’VE EVER BEEN TO. Not The Lads, though. Not for them. In a way it was a relief (no knocked-down expectations) to know that there wouldn’t be any more after the six-minute epic “A Certain Romance” ended the show.

It was then, in those last few moments we saw the Lads smile the most. They were quietly giving attention to the new Lad, Nick O'Malley. The spotlight shone down on the bass player, as he broke into a shy grin. No words were spoken, but the crowd burst into a welcoming cheer for him and his last, dope bass lines of "Romance"... it was the perfect way to say goodbye--with the Lads smiling and soaking it all up as the crowd thanked them in our spastic, American fashion.

Monday, May 07, 2007

tonight's the night...

the day is here.

The Lads will be here. In MPLS. At the club of all clubs, First Ave. and all is right with the world.

The show *did* sell out...I'm just sayin'.....

It's Matt's birthday and we hope that the Lads will be in *extra special spirits* tonight.

You will see a report on the show, sometime tomorrow......

Over and out. Get on your Dancing sexy little swine.

Tuesday, May 01, 2007

The complex religiousness of Obama and Happy May Day!

There is an ab fab article in the Times about Barak Obama's religious journey and how it figures into his presidential run.

So far (for me) his whole religiousness has been a little confusing....turns out, it was for him, too.

It mentions his speaking style and says it's "in the classic oratorical style of the black church." So striking......and how he makes it his own when he "speaks with cool intellect and on-the-one-hand reasoning"...that's what turns me on....damn.

And this is so KEY:

"While he has said he shares core Christian beliefs in God and in Jesus as his resurrected son, he sometimes mentions doubts. In his second book, he admitted uncertainty about the afterlife, and “what existed before the Big Bang.” Generally, Mr. Obama emphasizes the communal aspects of religion over the supernatural ones.

As a presidential candidate, Mr. Obama is reaching out to both liberal skeptics and committed Christians. In many speeches or discussions, he never mentions religion. When Mr. Obama, a former constitutional law professor, does speak of faith, he tends to add a footnote about keeping church and state separate."
I love this man.

(and dig this...even though it's sooooooo early....)

and Happy International Workers' Day (or Happy May Day), all!