I have this great role for Peter Bogdanovich in a low-budget slasher movie.
It goes like this…
He plays an insufferable film director who can’t stop name-dropping other famous directors he has met.
Just as he launches into a story about how he once refereed a ping pong game between Orson Welles and John Ford in a chateau off the French Riviera, the killer sneaks up from behind and strangles him with his own ascot.
More lyrics existing solely in my befuddled head.
Rush – “Free Will”
What I Hear/Say
I will choose a bathysphere
I will choose free will
Actual Lyrics
I will choose a path that’s clear
I will choose free will
R.E.M. – “Near Wild Heaven”
What I Hear/Say
And I don’t know how much longer I can take it
Just give me a board I’ll break it
Actual Lyrics
And I don’t know how much longer I can take it
House made of heart break it
See Volume 1 here.
My dad doesn’t like rock music for the most part. Okay, he likes the Beatles. He likes The Four Freshmen, and assorted songs from the 1950’s.
But my dad is passionate about music — 1920’s and 1930’s jazz specifically. Louis Armstrong, Bix Beiderbecke, etc. During my adolescence, I, for the most part, tried my damnedest not to listen to his music. I find his music much more enjoyable nowadays, but when you’re a gloomy, moody teenager like I was, the last thing you’d want to do is say, “Oh, I like what my folks like.”
Despite having dissimilar tastes, since we were both very passionate about music, we would occasionally lob a volley of a song or two to each other in hopes of making some of sort of connection.
My dad would play the occasional jazz 78 record for me, to mixed results.
I remember playing a pretty solo acoustic guitar song by Yes called “The Clap” for him (No, I have no idea why an effete prog rock band would wish to write a song called “The Clap”).
My dad has an encyclopedic knowledge of the music he cares about. But rock music? I don’t believe he has the equivalent knowledge, or the desire to obtain it — it’s just not his cup of tea.
Over the course of my lifetime, my dad has given me two albums out of the blue. It wasn’t Christmas, it wasn’t a birthday. A couple times during my high school years, my dad just said, “Hey, I picked up this record for you, thought you might like it.”
At the time he gave me these records, I was into The Police, Pink Floyd, Yes, Led Zeppelin, that kinda stuff.
I had no idea what freakshow he was giving me.
The Zapped album was a sampler of Frank Zappa’s Bizarre Records that you could get mailed to you if you sent some money in to his label. I don’t believe it was available in stores. My dad picked this up somewhere used.
This compilation was my first introduction to Captain Beefheart — there are two tracks from Trout Mask Replica. A wonderful pop song by Girls Together Outrageously is on there, which is still among my favorite tunes. There is stuff on this LP that I *still* find a little too odd for my tastes (Lord Buckley, anyone?).
The second album my dad got me was even stranger than the first.
It consisted of 42 tracks that …. well, I’ll let it do the explaining.
If you’re wondering, how on Earth could you fit 42 songs on one piece of vinyl? The answer is, you can’t. Each of these tracks was 15-20 seconds long — they were just snippets of songs. Far out, man.
I frequently would recite the small sample of William S. Burroughs on this record (“Stay out of that time flak! All pilots ride Pan Pipes back to base.”) before I even knew who Burroughs was.
So, I just wanted to say, thanks to my dad for putting me on the road to avant garde stuff.
Here’s a non-Friday, completely random sampling of my musical library.
I felt like I had to share this particular batch, seeing as the first and third songs rhymed, and the second song said that music is the only way I can communicate.
01. Os Mutantes – “She’s My Shoo Shoo”
02. Shake – “Music Is The Only Way (I Can Communicate)”
03. Les McCann – “Beaux J Poo Boo”
04. The Beta Band – “Assessment (Live)”
05. The Meters – “Hang ’em High”
06. Patton Oswalt – “Toronto Open Mic”
07. Tom Ze – “Passageiro”
08. King Missile (Dogfly Religion) – “The Blood Song”
09. Buddy Holly – “Raining In My Heart”
10. Camper Van Beethoven – “Border Ska”
1. hubris
Definition: exaggerated pride or self-confidence
Why I Won’t Use It: Chronically uncertain of the pronunciation.
What I’ll Say Instead: “balls”
2. lugubrious
Definition: exaggeratedly or affectedly mournful
Why I Won’t Use It: Can never remember what the hell it means; it’s too hard to say.
What I’ll Say Instead: “overly bummed out”
3. parsimonious
Definition: frugal to the point of stinginess
Why I Won’t Use It: What’s the definition again? I forgot.
What I’ll Say Instead: “stingy”
4. hoary
Definition: ancient; extremely old
Why I Won’t Use It: Fear people will think I am saying “whore-y”
What I’ll Say Instead: “really old”
5. bilious
Definition: of or relating to bile, of or indicative of a peevish ill-natured disposition, sickeningly unpleasant
Why I Won’t Use It: I can’t stop thinking it is a pretty word used to describe clouds.
What I’ll Say Instead: “icky”
6. surreptitious
Definition: done, made, or acquired by stealth
Why I Won’t Use It: Too many syllables.
What I’ll Say Instead: “sneaky”
7. pugnacious
Definition: having a quarrelsome or combative nature
Why I Won’t Use It: No real reason.
What I’ll Say Instead: “always looking for a goddamn fight”
8. perspicacious
Definition: of acute mental vision or discernment
Why I Won’t Use It: That’s what it means? Really? And how many syllables? Four? Are you serious?
What I’ll Say Instead: “totally on the ball”
9. chicanery
Definition: deception by artful subterfuge or sophistry
Why I Won’t Use It: Who am I, some muckracking author from the 30’s?
What I’ll Say Instead: “a ripoff”
10. dilettante
Definition: an admirer or lover of the arts, a person having a superficial interest in an art or a branch of knowledge
Why I Won’t Use It: Too close to debutante
What I’ll Say Instead: “arty art person”
You want Iggy Pop in a kid’s show? Well, here’s the best I can do.
Theme song from French animated series Space Goofs.
Another experimental film for y’all.
Silent 1923 movie “Le Retour à la raison” (The Return to Reason) by Man Ray.
If it’s of interest to you, there’s a nekkid chick near the end.
Doing this blog thing, it’s stirred up the creative juices for me a little.
I’ve got some ideas that I’d like to share, but some of these ideas are a tad on the offensive side of the spectrum. Well, perhaps more than a tad.
I consider myself an okay-kinda-guy who is pretty sensitive to others’ feelings and all, but I do have a misanthropic muscle or two that must get exercised from time to time.
I’ve got an amusing idea for a little photo-story using stills from the 9/11 movie United 93, as well as a great “dreadful reimagining” of a beloved children’s story, which makes The Velveteen Cockroach look like, well, The Velveteen Rabbit.
I have told the plot of my take on the children’s story to several people, who agreed it was a clever, humorous idea, but said it would probably be a bad idea to post it — it was just too damned offensive, or could be perceived in such a way.
But I haveta, I haveta, I tell ya.
Here’s how I think I can post these offensive things with a relatively clean conscience.
1. Mark the post as containing potentially “toxic” content.
2. Don’t actually include the offensive content in the blog post, but rather a pointer to another page that contains it.
3. The page containing the actual offensive content will require a User ID and password to access it.
4. Give the User ID and password in the blog post, and indicate it’s reader beware.
Does this sound like I am covering all my bases?
I’m not asking for permission to post offensive content, merely asking if this is a reasonable way of posting it.
A belated contribution to yet another Invincible Super-Blog meme.
David Thomas (of Pere Ubu)!
Iggy Pop!
Captain Beefheart!