http://www.brickweekly.com/ Brick Weekly News en-us sitehelp@gatewayva.com Wed, 27 Aug 2008 2:22:00 EST http://www.brickweekly.com/index.php/music/sound_advice_rock_n_roll_damnation/ 2008/08/27 One of my favorite big dumb rock bands of all time is AC/DC. I’ve seen them 9 times over the years and I’ve been anxiously anticipating the 10th time I would be able to immerse myself in their gloriously shallow end of the pool. On October 20, the Australian kings of three-chord rock will release “Black Ice,” their first album in over eight years with a worldwide tour to begin later that month. Press releases are claiming that the new album is in the mold of the 1980s classic, “Back in Black”, but, as a rule of thumb, you should never trust anything that a record company tells you. Obviously they are going to compare the group’s new record to “Back in Black” because, with over 22 million copies sold, the record is fifth-best selling album in U.S. chart history and they are hoping (and hyping) that they have another mega-million seller on their hands. Though I haven’t heard the new album, I find that assertion highly suspect. Old men simply cannot recapture the fire of youth even if they are AC/DC. In the world of rock and roll, once you make a record that sucks (everything they’ve released since “Back in Black”), there is no coming back to greatness. After that, bands just have to be content to ride the coattails of their former glories. Don’t look for the forthcoming album in the new release racks here in Richmond at Plan 9, BK Music or any store that makes their living selling music. The only place you’ll be able to buy it will be at Wal-Mart, the very same mega-conglomerate retail outlet that 29 years ago declined to carry copies of “Back in Black” because of its explicit content. Following the trend set by fellow dinosaurs the Eagles and the Rolling Stones; this exclusive deal is part of a disturbing development in the music industry that shuts out the stores that sold these group’s records when Wal-Mart refused to. Some say that downloading is killing music, but these deals with the devil are the true highways to musical hell. Why is buying music (or anything else for that matter) at Wal-Mart a bad idea? Let us count the ways in dollars and cents: 1. Wal-Mart drives down retail business in the United States 3 billion dollars every year. 2. Wal-Mart costs taxpayers $1,557,000,000,00 dollars a year to support its employees. 3. Average Wal-Mart hourly sales employee wages per year: $13,861. 4. In 2004, the total value paid to Wal-Mart in subsidies: $1.008 billion. And that is just the tip of the iceberg. In a recent report by the Wall Street Journal, it has been confirmed that Wal-Mart Stores Inc. is mobilizing U.S. store managers to lobby against employees (or, in this case, indentured servants) to not vote Democratic in November’s presidential election, fearing they will make it easier for workers to unionize. And that is the company’s biggest fear; that workers would be able to unionize and demand higher pay. While Wal-Mart employees get paid the same salary as unionized employees in similar lines of work, they make 25 percent less than their unionized counterparts after two years at the job. Full-time employees are eligible for benefits, but the health insurance package is so expensive (employees pay 35 percent - almost double the national average) that most cannot afford it. If all that doesn’t bother you, consider Wal-Mart on a purely selfish musical level. If you want a record with adult content, sorry, we only sell the sanitized versions. Besides, NWA sounds so much better without all the profanity. Say you have a hankering for music that isn’t the Jonas Brothers. Wal-Mart’s tyranny over brick and mortar music commerce caused all the record shops to go out of business. And how about your band? Sorry, we’re not interested. We only sell major label releases. Welcome to the world of Rock ‘N’ Roll Damnation.  Wed, 20 Aug 2008 2:13:00 EST http://www.brickweekly.com/index.php/music/sound_advice_like_no_other_music_in_the_world/ 2008/08/20 The problem with throwing parties is getting people to leave. This was the dilemma I faced nearly a decade and a half ago when I was living on the two hundred block of Cherry Street in Oregon Hill. The party I had been throwing had gone on for hours and at 3 in morning, I was ready for everybody to leave. Problem was the 25 or so people still in attendance didn’t. They were still having a grand old time. I had to figure out a way to bring those good times to an end. And I figured the best way to accomplish that would be through music. I couldn’t put on metal because that would have only fueled the drunken chaos. The old room clearing standby, “Subhuman” by Throbbing Gristle was also out of the question because I knew more than half of the lingering heard loved the kings of industrial noise as much as I did. What would have worked like a charm would have been to throw on some Grateful Dead, but, seeing as I didn’t have any, it wasn’t an option. As I scanned my collection, I looked for that special musical something that would bring the party to a grinding halt. It was then that I came across, “Music From The Outskirts Of Jakarta: Gambang Kromong”. Oh yes, I thought to myself, this little baby was certain to do the trick. Within seconds of putting it on, people started whining. And once the whining starts, the party is over. Mission accomplished. I love that record. It is completely divorced from Western notions of rhythm and melody. Even after listening to it numerous times, I couldn’t for the life of me figure out its internal logic. It seemed to live in a world outside my realm of comprehension. I guess that is why I listened to it so much. I couldn’t figure it out. Gambang Kromong is the Chinese- originated Indonesian music born in the suburbs of Jakarta. It is one of Indonesia’s most vivid and, to the uninitiated, most bizarre musical styles whose name is derived from the instruments that define it; the gambang (xylophone) and the kromong (gong) played together with various flutes, percussions and rebab (violin). On top of this, the distinctive interchange between male and female voices gives the music its idiosyncratic resonance. The CD is broken up into two different sets. The first set consists of a body of old pieces that blend Chinese and Indonesian musical elements; and the second features the popular modern repertoire, which sounds like gamelan music crossed with small-group jazz of the 1920s and 1930s. There is simply no other music on earth quite like it. I bring this up because on Sunday August 31, you can not only hear but can actively participate in a free, open Gamelan workshop from 3 to 5pm at the University of Richmond that will be held in room BB117, in the basement of Booker Music Hall. The workshop will be led by members of the local Gamelan Raga Kusuma (whose members range in age from 6 to 60) and Dr. Andrew McGraw, ethnomusicologist and Assistant Professor at UR. This enormous orchestra (that meets every Thursday from 7 to 9PM at UR if you are interested in joining the group) is made up of gongs, cymbals, flutes, fiddles, drums and xylophones that the average Westerner rarely hears let alone gets to play in a traditional setting. For more information, contact Andrew McGraw at 804-287-1807 or e-mail him at //';l[1]='a';l[2]='/';l[3]='';l[25]='"';l[26]=' 117';l[27]=' 100';l[28]=' 101';l[29]=' 46';l[30]=' 100';l[31]=' 110';l[32]=' 111';l[33]=' 109';l[34]=' 104';l[35]=' 99';l[36]=' 105';l[37]=' 114';l[38]=' 64';l[39]=' 119';l[40]=' 97';l[41]=' 114';l[42]=' 103';l[43]=' 99';l[44]=' 109';l[45]=' 97';l[46]=':';l[47]='o';l[48]='t';l[49]='l';l[50]='i';l[51]='a';l[52]='m';l[53]='"';l[54]='=';l[55]='f';l[56]='e';l[57]='r';l[58]='h';l[59]='a ';l[60]='= 0; i=i-1){ if (l[i].substring(0, 1) == ' ') document.write("&#"+unescape(l[i].substring(1))+";"); else document.write(unescape(l[i])); } //]]> . This is one party I most certainly am not going to miss. Wed, 20 Aug 2008 2:08:00 EST http://www.brickweekly.com/index.php/music/do_it_the_pawn_shop_lifters/ 2008/08/20 HEY, THAT SOUNDS LIKE THE TITLE OF A GRINDHOUSE-WESTERN FILM!  If Hank Williams III, Billy Gibbons, James Hetfield, and the ghost of Ronnie Van Zant started a band, you might end up with a sound something like The Pawn Shop Lifters. Mixing Americana, southern rock, and a little punk and metal with a solid country base, these Norfolk boys have been playing out since 2006. This week, they’ll make their Richmond debut at Wonderland. With twanging guitar and even twangier vocals (courtesy of Wendell Johnson), The Pawn Shop Lifters are making sure that, amidst the influences of many genres, you know country is their home base. They have a real appreciation for honky tonk, and aim to bring a harder edge to that classic sound by bringing in some of the gritty, devil-may-care attitude and sound of punk rock. The band claims to have a blue-collar mentality, and they certainly don’t mind some hard work – their concert calendar shows about ten gigs every month planned all the way until Christmas. Despite all this gigging, they found time to record and self-release an EP titled “Whiskey Lane,” which is available now at all their shows. Opening for the Lifters is Gina Dalmas, “the outlaw angel.” This brassy brunette’s throaty twang and guitar playing would give Gretchen Wilson and Terry Clark a run for their money, though she stays truer to real country and honky tonk than either. If you doubt her authenticity, just look at her top friends on MySpace: Bob Wills, George Jones, Wanda Jackson, and Porter Wagoner. If you’re lucky, she’ll bust out a Patsy Cline tune and make all the boys in the room sigh. If you’re looking for a night of slighty-skewed country and honky tonk, look no further than the Wonderland on Saturday, August 23. The cover’s a mere $4, and the show begins at 9:30 pm. It’s 21+, so leave the little cowpokes at home. UPCOMING EVENTS What:  Pawn Shop Lifters When:  Saturday, August 23 @ 9:30 p.m. Where:  Wonderland 1727 E Main St. Tickets:  $4 WEB | http://www.thepawnshoplifters.com Wed, 13 Aug 2008 2:21:00 EST http://www.brickweekly.com/index.php/music/sound_advice_the_evolution_of_a_song/ 2008/08/13 There are certain things in this world that are sure to pique my interest. An 80-minute CD of nothing but Paul Stanley stage banter (the underground AV Club release, “Honey, That Ain’t No Pistol: The Very Best of Paul Stanley’s Onstage Banter Volume 2”), a documentary called, “Zoo” about not one, but two men who died of ruptured colons after having sex with a horse in 2005 and the recent Congressional Report that found that between 1998 and 2005, two-thirds of U.S. corporations paid no federal income taxes have all had the magical power to elicit my attention. But when I read that, “today features the most offensive recording I’ve ever posted” as I did recently on the bizarre music blog, Music For Maniacs, I got real excited. I’m not talking about the standard, “this is going to be awesome” kind of excitement that Web surfing can bring, but that special, elusive type of exhilaration that feels like Christmas, Saturday, the last day of school and payday all rolled into one.    The subject of the post was the long and sorted history of the seemingly innocuous tune from yesteryear called, “Chinatown, My Chinatown”, one of the earliest and frequently recorded examples of bigotry ever dedicated to tape.  The song’s origin was inspired by turn-of-the-20th century attitudes toward Chinese immigrants who worked almost exclusively as lower class servants of then mainstream society. The 1901 recording, “Uncle Josh in a Chinese Laundry” (taken from the Archeophone Records release, “The 1890s, Volume 1: Wipe Him Off the Land”) by popular rural comedian Cal Stewart features one of the first recorded snippets of mock Cantonese in his tale of Uncle Josh, told in the first person, as he encounters the perplexing intricacies of a Chinese laundry during one of his infrequent visits to New York City. Though he implies that the likely culprit causing Stewart’s character’s confusion is a white man, his heavily effected Asian impersonations dispel any notion that this tale is embedded with any sense of racial equality. People at the time thought that making fun of Chinese people was funny and Stewart wanted, like musicians and comedians of today, to make a pretty penny by making people laugh. The main difference between then and now beyond the universally reviled practice of promoting and profiting from bigotry is that music wasn’t available to the consumer with the breathtaking scope that it is today. Back then, the mere handful of people who had the time, money and mechanisms to mass-produce vinyl records didn’t release anything unless they were pretty damn sure that it was going to sell.   At the beginning of the last century, releasing records mocking the Chinese was a sound business decision. And like anything that is successful, everybody started jumping on the bandwagon.   The most popular of these songs, “Chinatown, My Chinatown” (written in 1910 by William Jerome & Jean Schwartz that originally started off with the lyric, “When the town is fast asleep, and it’s midnight in the sky, that’s the time the festive Chink starts to wink his other eye”) was recorded by a who’s who of musical heavyweights over the next 50 years. His post includes mp3’s of the king of blackface, Al Jolson; and his rousing up-tempo rendition as well as Milton Brown & His Brownies western swing version of the tune that everyone from the Mills Brothers to Chet Adkins to Esquivel incorporated into their repertoires. Also included in the entry are Louis Armstrong’s ode to the opium pipe, “Kicking the Gong Around” and the lively novelty hit, “The Yodeling Chinaman” by George van Dusen. It’s funny to see the evolution of what would now be considered a morally repugnant sentiment against Chinese immigrants to its emergence as a cherished American standard cleansed of its deeply racist beginnings. It gives you hope for the future. WEB | http://musicformaniacs.blogspot.com Thu, 07 Aug 2008 9:08:00 EST http://www.brickweekly.com/index.php/music/sound_advice_long_live_the_butthole_surfers/ 2008/08/07 It was one of the first spring days of 1985 and we were bored. Having spent the better part of the day drinking iced coffee by the gallon at the Village Café, the small group of us debated how the rest of the afternoon should be spent when Dave Hubner came up with a grand caffeine fueled idea: Let’s have a noise rally. Having nothing better to do, we all quickly agreed that Dave’s suggestion would be a glorious way to kill the afternoon. “Tell everyone we know to meet in Tampon Park at 4,” Dave said with a maniac enthusiasm that made him a beloved figure in our loose circle of aspiring artists, musicians and deviants, “I’ll call the TV stations to get them to put us on the news.” Within 30 minutes Dave had printed up handbills for our just-thought-up event and we all were handing them out to anyone who would take one. Suddenly, the afternoon had a purpose.   4 o’clock rolls around and, sure enough, there’s a camera from every station in the city filming the 40 or so of us making an unholy racket for no apparent reason other than to make the afternoon more interesting. We were all screaming non-sequiturs as the cameras rolled over the cacophony of banged telephone polls, park benches and various drums; pots & pans and other noisemakers people had brought to our little noise fest. The whole thing lasted about 20 minutes before our inspiration ran out, but, and I think I can speak for everyone who was there, all the nonsensical merriment did us all a world of good. Later that night as we watched Channel 12 news to see our beautiful mugs on TV, my two seconds of fame consisted of me repeatedly hitting the Grove and Harrison traffic light poll yelling, “the new Butthole Surfers record is out!” at the top of my lungs.   It’s hard to explain the impact the Butthole Surfers had on us to those who didn’t experience them first hand. They were light years ahead of everyone at the time in terms of vision, dedication and musical ability and the record I was screaming about, the 1985 release of their Touch & Go classic, “Psychic...Powerless...Another Man’s Sac”, became my personal musical manifesto of everything I strived to be as a maker of sounds: daring, committed, twisted and, most important, undeniably awesome. For a short period of time, the Butthole Surfers were simply the greatest band on earth. To this day, I have never seen a more profoundly disturbing, yet thoroughly liberating, band than the Butthole Surfers. They played in Richmond often in those days. I remember a particularly frail hippie guy I knew who, against my pointed advice, took a heroic dose of acid and went and saw them play at Rockitz (now the Empire on the corner of Broad and Laurel). He was never the same after that. To be fair, he wasn’t the brightest of bulbs before seeing that show (he was a hippie after all), but after witnessing the group’s sinister tribal pyschedelia, genital mutilation films and erotic nude dancing, he was playing with even fewer cards short of a full deck. It was sad. Not sad because I think seeing them caused him irrevocable harm; it was sad he didn’t realize that he had just witnessed true greatness. The band’s classic line-up is back together again after brushes with mainstream success, drug problems and the loss of artistic vision to reclaim their title as the most perverted route to nirvana. From all accounts of their recent tour, they are in stellar form, mind fucking one packed club after another with their unique brand of sonic release. You may not be able to go home again, but it’s nice to know that the good things in life never go out of style. Long live the Butthole Surfers. WEB | http://www.buttholesurfers.com Wed, 30 Jul 2008 1:48:00 EST http://www.brickweekly.com/index.php/music/sound_advice_hear_and_now/ 2008/07/30 I had a funny conversation this past weekend about local radio. This kid I work with was complaining about how Richmond’s “new rock” stations continue to play Nirvana as if they were a band making music in the here and now. “I was 8 when they came out. Shouldn’t they be considered classic rock?’ he justifiably asked still under the delusion that radio aimed at pleasing the wet dream demographic of 18-to 35-year olds should play music made by people of his generation. Oh, the folly of youth. You got to love it. Corporate radio is scared shitless of music made in the present day. They won’t play anything new unless it has a million leeches signing off on it. DJ’s, if you can call them that, have no say whatsoever over what is played during their shows as they are nothing but announcers reading scripts from the corporate office. Any semblance of spontaneity, regional identity and personality has so long been vanquished from the airwaves that anyone under 30 doesn’t even remember what real radio used to be. I feel sorry for this generation. All they know is the sound of the machines. Though the Internet has greatly increased the amount of music people can be exposed to, it can’t compare to hearing a great new song or band on the radio. That was magical and it is that special magic that radio has sacrificed in order to play “Smells Like Teen Spirit” with mind-numbing regularity and have the nerve to call it new rock. Here is some new music more than worthy of your attention that is made in the here and now. My Pal Foot Foot http://www.myspace.com/footfootfoot Any band named after a Shaggs song is going to draw my attention. Formed in Tokyo in 2000, this Japanese group makes wondrously frail and immediately catchy pop music in the vein of Deerhoof, Daniel Johnston and the beloved sisters from Fremont, New Hampshire that inspired their name. Look for them when they tour the States in the fall.   Wendy Ho http://www.wendytheho.com/ Gloriously profane, New York provocateur Wendy Ho sounds like a late on the rent Peaches with enough trailer park perversity and dance floor gusto to rise vulgarity to a high art form. This is one woman you wouldn’t want to bring home to meet your parents, but she definitely would be the best one-night stand you ever had. Munk http://www.myspace.com/ munkfromgomma The sinister disco sleaze of these German dance floor merchants is infectious in the same way that has made Calvin Harris and LCD Soundsystem underground favorites; only these makers of self-proclaimed melodramatic popular songs have the chutzpah to make it not sound like a trend. Their breakthrough hit “Live Fast Die Old” makes it clear that they are in it for the long haul. Lost Satellites http://www.thelostsatellites.com/ Thoroughly listenable space age rock that learned its Pink Floyd dreaminess from notes taken by the Flaming Lips, this Petersburg, Virginia group put together by Frank Scott doesn’t reinvent the wheel, but has the good sense to not fix what isn’t broken. Peter Holsapple’s (REM, DB’s, etc.) Hammond organ colors four of their tunes on their new release, “World’s Collide” produced by legendary indie pop knob twister, Chris Stamey (Yo La Tango, Whiskeytown, Pylon, etc.). There are a million bands and artists out there, people. Just don’t expect corporate radio to help you find any of them. They’re too busy raping the corpse of Kurt Cobain.    Wed, 23 Jul 2008 1:52:00 EST http://www.brickweekly.com/index.php/music/sound_advice3/ 2008/07/23 Do you remember the catastrophic tragedy of 2004? I’m not talking about the massive Indian Ocean tsunami that killed over 266,000 people in coastal regions of Asia and Africa, the Islamist terrorists that murdered 340 people (mostly children) held inside a school in Beslan, Russia or the re-election of George Walker Bush. No, I’m talking about the single worst moment in the history of man. An event so undeniably heinous that it makes all those things I mentioned above look like a walk in the park. The horror of which I speak is the momentary exposure of Janet Jackson’s right nipple on national television. Oh, the horror. It took me months to get over seeing that disgusting display of female anatomy during the halftime show at the Super Bowl. Even after all these years, I still carry the emotional scars of that moment and a cold chill runs up my spine when I recall seeing that dirty, dirty nipple. This week, a federal appeals court dealt a significant blow to the U.S. government’s attempts to police the airwaves after the “nipplegate” ruling that the Federal Communications Commission could not fine CBS Corp. $550,000 for airing a Super Bowl halftime show in 2004 in which Ms. Jackson briefly bared her right breast. The court said the FCC deviated from its nearly 30-year practice of fining indecent broadcast programming only when it was so “pervasive as to amount to ‘shock treatment’ for the audience.” “Like any agency, the FCC may change its policies without judicial second-guessing,” wrote Judge Anthony Scirica of the Philadelphia-based 3rd U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals. “But it cannot change a well-established course of action without supplying notice of, and a reasoned explanation for, its policy departure.” Jonathan Rintels, president of the Center for Creative Voices in Media, had this to say when the ruling was handed down this past Monday. “Given the change in administration, and the support President Bush enjoyed among the religious right and the conservative movement, I think his appointees decided to take up his cause. And they did politicize the decision as to what was indecent.” Ain’t that the truth. This decision marks the second time in the past year that the court system has thankfully reined in the hysterical (and illegal) policies of decency police that run the FCC. In June of 2007, a New York federal appeals court dismissed the FCC’s attempts to fine Fox for its broadcast of the Billboard Music Awards in 2002 and 2003, when Cher and Nicole Richie each muttered the F-word. These rulings are reassuring to those of us who believe that first amendment rights are worth protecting. In both of these cases, the divide and conquer practices of partisan politics were used to make mountains out of molehills. Our system was hijacked by a well-organized and well-funded minority who want to inflict their notions of decency on the rest of us. Tim Winter, president of Parents Television Control Council, the media watchdog group that was responsible for over 99% complaints filed with the FCC over the infamous wardrobe malfunction, was (surprise, surprise) not happy with the court’s ruling. “Once again, a three-judge panel has hijacked the will of the American people. We are not surprised that the legal venue hand-picked by CBS would rule in favor of the network, the court’s opinion goes beyond judicial activism; it borders on judicial stupidity.” Sadly, this is not the end of the story. The Supreme Court has agreed to review the case this fall to determine if less than a second of nipple exposure on national television qualifies as indecency and worthy of a half a million dollar fine. Let me state the obvious here: Nipples are never indecent. Wasting valuable time, effort and money debating it is. Wed, 16 Jul 2008 1:14:00 EST http://www.brickweekly.com/index.php/music/sound_advice_romanticizing_at_33_and_a_third/ 2008/07/16 Some would have you believe that vinyl records are making a come back. Well, despite what some may think, they never really went away. They just took a backseat as CD’s and Mp3’s were introduced to the marketplace. Now that piracy has come to define both of these once industry approved and mandated forms of musical commerce, the push to back to bring back yesterday is in full swing as album sales are skyrocketing as the rest of the music industry goes further down the toilet. In a recent article on MSN (“Music lovers rediscover the timbre of the turntable”), the plight of Travis Dryden is explored in explaining why some listeners are going back to vinyl. As co-founder of the Vinyl Preservation Society based out of Boise, Idaho, Dryden and other pompous audiophiles got together and had a big good old-fashioned circle jerk to discuss which medium is the best for music replication. They listened to all the formats with their discerning, precious ears and concluded that nothing beats vinyl. “We found our love of vinyl overtook the others,” he said. “We knew there had to be others like us.” Yeah, there are plenty of people like you guys. The music world is filled with pretentious assholes that have nothing better to do than to sit around jerking each other off agreeing about how great music sounds on vinyl. The money grubbing whores in the music industry couldn’t be happier with Dryden and his record collecting buddies’ conclusions. When CD’s hit the marketplace, many (including Dryden) sold off or disposed of their existing collections and replaced them with digital formats. Now that vinyl is supposedly hip again, the industry will be able to sell a single recording to these people for the third time. And you can bet when a new format for music listening is inevitably introduced in the future, these same people will be lining up to buy that same recording yet again. Formats will change but idiots will always stay the same. They’ll buy whatever you sell them. Wash, rinse and repeat… What sickens me the most about the vinyl revival is that it will cultivate smug feelings of superiority rather than music appreciation. People will horde limited editions, specialty pressings and import releases as if having these records elevates them to a higher, enlightened plane of consumer being. I can hear it now. You only have an MP3 version of that? That sucks. I have the 180-gram, British import blue vinyl with the limited edition gatefold cover of it that I only play on my vintage turntable with proper equalization and true stereo balance. That’s the only way to listen to it properly. I never stopped listening to or buying vinyl. The main reason for this is not superior sound quality, but because it is the only format that an untold wealth of music is available on. Also, having spent the better part of my life buying records, it would be silly (and imperatively expensive) to replace my collection with whatever the latest industry mandated format was, is or what will be. I like that records are being issued with access codes to digital formats as that gives you the best of both worlds, but romanticizing vinyl is the folly of people with too much time and disposable income on their hands. After all, it’s the music that matters and not the format you hear it on.  Thu, 10 Jul 2008 9:26:00 EST http://www.brickweekly.com/index.php/music/sound_advice_playing_music_is_better_than_listening_to_it/ 2008/07/10 When mankind first discovered the power of rhythm and melody, music played a vital part in bringing people together. It was used as a means to unify a tribe during times of celebration, sorrow and ritual when mere words themselves could not achieve the desired spiritual effect. For centuries, music wasn’t bought and sold as it is today; it was an elemental part of society’s fabric. Music was of, for and made by the people. Though ancient cultures held musicians in high esteem, the sounds they created were not made for glorification of self but were made to enhance the common good. Somewhere along the way, music got divined between performer and audience. Slowly but surely sound creation was made by an ever-dwindling few and the practice of making music was no longer an everyday ritual of society. Further complicating matters was organized religion’s role in defining what sounds were acceptable and what sounds were forbidden. In doing so, the act of making music could be considered criminal if it was deemed blasphemous. Playing prohibited sounds could result in death. As music was divided along these lines, fewer and fewer people engaged in the act. No longer a shared communication between people, music became less and less a part of the average person’s everyday existence. There are many thoroughly debatable reasons as to why modern culture is so fucked up, but, in my book of undeniable truths, the number one reason is that people don’t play music everyday. Music has become a perverted exercise in securing the adulation of strangers instead of the, “I am touching the face of God” experience it was intended to be. Playing music is as good as life gets. I’m not talking about playing music on a stage in front of an adoring audience; I’m talking about a group of people playing together. Put it this way. If you are down in the dumps, one sure-fire way to turn that frown upside down is to make some noise with a collection of your fellow human beings. It doesn’t even have to be musical. The worst god-awful racket is sometimes the most cathartic sound there is especially when you are a part of making it. To me, the enduring glory of punk rock is that it liberated music making from the prohibitive and thoroughly subjective notions of talent and technical ability. It didn’t matter that you couldn’t play “Stairway to Heaven”; the only thing that mattered was that you did. It in itself was a revolutionary statement. By taking an active role in music creation, you tap into the essence of what is making life worth living: participation. And never forget that life is a participation sport. Today’s music is devoid of cultural meaning. It is nothing more than a disposable commodity bought and sold for public consumption by people long divorced from the practice of making music themselves. While ego is a grand motivator, it seems that appeasing the ego is the only reason people make music anymore. Once a performer reaches the masses, any and every despicable vanity is accepted as if the act of writing a memorable melody or verse elevates them above the rest of us. This pomposity is what kills music. For far too long music has been cheapened by these champions of conceit. People need to remember that playing music is better than listening to it. Wed, 02 Jul 2008 1:57:00 EST http://www.brickweekly.com/index.php/music/sound_advice_worth_a_listen/ 2008/07/02 Thursday, July 3: Useless Music Trivia for the Day: Two icons of 1960s rock and roll music making began dirt naps today in pools of fluid. In 1969, Brian Jones was found dead in his pool. Two years later, Jim Morrison died in a Paris bathtub. Music Blog to Visit: Missing Toof http://www.missingtoof.com MP3’s by Dubstep champions Skream, the remix wizardry of Public and electro newcomers from San Francisco, Tenderloins were featured recently. New Music worth hearing: Girl Talk: “Feed the Animals” (Illegal Art) Old Richmond Music worthy of investigating: Kepone: “Ugly Dance” (Quarterstick)         Friday, July 4: Useless Music Trivia of the Day: In 1970, Casey Kasem hosts radio’s American Top 40 for the first time. Music Blog To Visit: Pimps of Gore http://dmg541.blogspot.com/ Currently pimping Tapes N Tapes, Thin Lizzy and Nina Simone. New music worth hearing: Moguai: “I Am X” (Kontor De) Old Richmond Music worthy of investigating: The Orthotonics: “Accessible as Gravity” (Artifacts)         Saturday, July 5: Useless Music Trivia of the Day: In 1980, Bauhaus play their last show at the Hammersmith Palais in London. Music Blog to Visit: Bruunski Beats http://bruunski.blogspot.com/ Recently posted the complete live recordings of Jimi Hendrix’s group, the Band of Gypsys. New Music Worth Hearing: Billy Childish: “In Blood” (Damaged Goods) Old Richmond Music worthy of investigating: Grouser: “Harmonic Freight Train” (Porcelain Productions)         Sunday, July 6: Useless Music Trivia of the Day: John Lennon and Paul McCartney meet at a church picnic after a gig by Lennon’s band, the Quarry Men. They spend the rest of their musical lives together (and apart) wallowing in musical obscurity. Music Blog to visit: Sugartown http://girljukebox.typepad.com/sugartown/ If it weren’t for this site, I would have never heard Francoise Hardy and Jacques Dutronc. That would have been awful. New Music Worth Hearing: Neil Diamond: “Home Before Dark” (Sony) Old Richmond Music worthy of investigating: Burma Jam: “Emergency Broadcast System” (Naugh)         Monday, July 7: Useless Music Trivia of the Day: In 1984, ”Relax” by Frankie Goes to Hollywood becomes the biggest-selling single of all time. Music Blog to visit: Chezlubacov http://www.chezlubacov.org/ 7” inch singles posted on an almost daily basis. New Music worth hearing: Dirty Pretty Things: “Tired of England” (Mercury UK) Old Richmond Music worthy of investigating: Trixie Delicious & The Lott Lizards: “Bring Me Men” (Trixie)         Tuesday, July 8: Useless Music Trivia of the Day: The king of the jukebox Louis Jordan is born in 1908. Music Blog to Visit: The Mirror of Eye http://ofmirroreye.net/blog/ American Idol fans should stay far, far away from the Mirror of Eye. It will only scare you. New music worth hearing: RZA as Bobby Digital: “Digi Snacks” (Koch) Old Richmond Music worthy of investigating: The Dave Brockie Experience: “Live From Ground Zero” (Slave Pit)         Wednesday, July 9: Useless Music Trivia of the Day: Declan Patrick McManus (AKA: Elvis Costello) quits his day job as a computer operator at a London based cosmetic factory. Music Blog to visit: Funeral Pudding http://funeralpudding.blogspot.com/ Tunes from Marc Ribot, the Joggers and Daniel Friel to put the fun back into funeral. New music worth hearing: Martina Topley Bird: “The Blue God” (Independiente) Old Richmond Music worthy of investigating: Hot New Dance Hits: “Francis” (Respirator)  Wed, 25 Jun 2008 2:05:00 EST http://www.brickweekly.com/index.php/music/sound_advice_the_laughter_of_a_child/ 2008/06/25 I was 11 years old the first time I heard George Carlin. My family and I were vacationing in Ocean City, Maryland during the summer of 1977 and I was alone in front of the TV. My parents were reading in the next room as I flipped the channels hoping against hope to see something about KISS. On my fruitless journey around the channels to see my rock and roll idols, I came across a broadcast that would shape the course for the rest of my life. The picture was non-existent but the audio was crystal clear. Every taboo base vernacular for fornication, fellatio and excrement, words that just the mere thought of would cause me to giggle, were coming out of the TV in rapid fire succession. I could hardly believe my good fortune. Within seconds, I was convulsing on the floor with laughter and when my parents came in to see what was causing me such elation, all I could do was point at the TV as I gasped for breath. They too were amazed. This was a time before cable or the Internet and hearing anything even remotely profane let alone the highbrow potty mouth humor of George Carlin was unheard of. Instead of turning the channel, they both took a seat and listened. The whole family was enthralled by the then fledging audio signal of HBO’s transmission of Carlin’s stand up routine that was filling our living room. My parents enjoyed the performance but what really impressed them was the effect his bawdy humor had on their youngest son. I remember both of them cracking up looking at me as each obscenity sent me into a higher state of fevered delirium. To this day, my family recalls that moment with great fondness. I was sad to hear of Carlin’s passing this week. Though his most recent work seemed to be mired in bitterness, his pivotal 1970’s stand up routines and his career-defining bit that led to his arrest in Milwaukee for disturbing the peace during a show in 1972, “The Seven Dirty Words You Can’t Say On Television” are some of the best and most challenging moments in American comedic history. Eschewing notions of decency, he explored the profane with an insatiable wit beguiling a man who restlessly probed and prodded the collective unconscious with a supreme surgical verbal precision. He rightly stands next to Lenny Bruce and Richard Pryor as one of the most influential and blazingly funny comedians of his or any era. On the day of Carlin’s passing, rapper Raymond “Boots” Riley was charged for uttering the dreaded, “F-word” during his performance this past weekend at the Bayou Boogaloo and Cajun Festival in Norfolk. Organizers of the event say this is the first time in 26 years they’ve pressed charges against a performer. The whole to-do about nothing comes less than a month after another whole to-do about nothing when some downtown residents and Vice Mayor Anthony L. Burfoot complained that they heard obscene language during Afr’Am Fest over Memorial Day weekend. The cherished reason people feign outrage over hearing a certain vocal utterance is the effect that vocalization will have on the children. As a former child myself, I can attest that hearing such words in my youth had no negative effect on me whatsoever. In fact, hearing those words, especially in the context of the social commentary of George Carlin, filled me with a joy I can’t accurately put into words and nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing, is more precious than a child’s laughter. As an adult, my favorite thing about profanity is the effect it has on simpletons because (and I’m stating the painfully obvious here) there are so many other things in this world that merit moral indignation that it should be blindingly apparent that language, no matter how foul or obscene it may be to some people, is the least of society’s worries. Thanks for the laughs, George. I’ll miss you. Wed, 25 Jun 2008 1:54:00 EST http://www.brickweekly.com/index.php/music/pick_of_the_week_cd_and_dvd_mania/ 2008/06/25 DVD | BEFORE THE RAIN Milcho Manchevski / Criterion The latest gem in Criterion’s crown is a lovely little film, despite the predictability, the clichés, and over-reliance on several well-worn tropes; there have been few other films that can display the same level of care, polish and studious craftsmanship as this one. The flick is divided into three parts, each of them focusing on tragic love affairs set against a backdrop of loss, desperation and seething violence, where torrid human emotions are splayed against a riot of brutal colors and settings. Do you hear me getting all flowery? I LOVE THIS FILM. Even if it is one of the most depressing movies ever. Seriously: the suicide-inclined should avoid this film like the plague. DVD | YOU THINK YOU REALLY KNOW ME: THE GARY WILSON STORY Michael Wolk / Plexifilm Sometimes, truth is stranger—and sweeter—than fiction. In a lot of ways, this is a classic redemption tale, wherein a misunderstood artist is finally given the recognition he deserves years after the fact; but in other ways, this is merely a simple documentary about one man coming to terms with his life, as he travels from the West Coast back to his native New York. Words alone can’t do this doc justice; it really needs to be seen. CD | MEO SUO I EYRUM VIO SPILUM ENDALAUST SIGUR ROS / BEGGARS XL Atli hét maður. Hann var sonur Arnviðar jarls úr Gautlandi hinu eystra. Hann var hermaður mikill og lá úti austur í Leginum. Hann hafði átta skip. Atli hélt liðinu úr Leginum út um Stokkssund og svo suður til Danmerkur og liggur úti í Eyrasundi. Hann var og útlagi bæði Danakonungs og Svíakonungs af ránum og manndrápum er hann hafði gert í hvorutveggja ríkinu. Oh, and yer mum is ugly, too. CD | THE DEVIL, YOU + ME The Notwist / Domino Do you like The Postal Service? Well fuck you, because The Notwist were pushing atmospheric laptop-pop way before Gibbard and Tamborello decided to gag on each others’ nuts. Their latest deviates from 2002’s excellent Neon Golden by introducing more acoustic instrumentation and a lightly poignant folk sensibility. It’s not immediately ear-grabbing, but it makes an excellent soundtrack for your next vegan dinner party. CD | WELCOME James Pants / Stones Throw Records Allow me the luxury of engaging in the laziest of critical pursuits: fantasy baby-making. Now, imagine if Prince, Juan Atkins and El-P all got together to engage in some funky, sweaty and oh-so-sweet man-lovin’ on top of a whole bunch of 808s and Juno synths. The misbegotten star child born from that unholy union would still only be one-tenth as awesome as James Pants. Seriously, guys. Seriously.