The Time I Met Paul Westerberg

If you're reading this via sonicplague.com, you can stream the entire show by pressing play in the upper right hand corner.  If you're reading this via Facebook or blogger.com, you can stream the entire show ... by reading it via sonicplague.com.  :)

My goal has certainly never been to stalk or hunt down anyone with any level of fame simply for the sake of brushing up against celebrity (not since I've been an "adult", anyway).  I try not to get too starstruck, but sometimes it's the nature of the beast, and if given the opportunity to shake a hand or get an autograph, I'll sacrifice the time and effort if even to just say hello and thanks. 

As a kid, it was mostly baseball players at card shows.  Some players were great (anyone remember Jody Reed?), others ... not so much.  Roger Clemens was OK back then (I must have been 15 years old when I met him), but a certain Hall of Fame left-fielder for the Red Sox (whose name rhymes with "Schmed Frilliams", but I'm not going to name names) was someone slightly less than warm and friendly. 

Around the time of my freshman year at BU,  a college friend of mine (who will remain nameless, but she knows who she is) had a car ... long story short, the carfull of us driving around the eastern half of the state were KIDNAPPED and - I kid you not - driven to visit the homes of each of the New Kids On The Block.  Not one of my prouder moments, but there's no denying it happened, though in fairness I had absolutely no say in the matter.  Her devious plan was unrevealed until we got to the first house, and then there was no turning back ...

During my time in Boston, I was also able to take advantage of the many in-store appearances at what was then Tower Records.  I got to meet Lou Reed (who had a surprisingly weak handshake), Rob Zombie (an incredibly nice guy), and Brian May (even nicer!) when he opened for Guns N' Roses at the old Boston Garden.  Somewhere in my mom's basement is a cardboard longbox (remember those?) signed by Dinosaur Jr (J Mascis did not seem to want to be there, and signed all of his autographs "J".)  I saw live performances by Belly, Velocity Girl, and many others. 

Thanks to a snafu with their fan-club, I went backstage to meet the Black Crowes in Connecticut - a story worthy of its own post sometime soon.

Nothing can beat the story of the time I met Bruce Campbell in October 2001, of course - a couple of years later, I ended up marrying the woman I fatefully ended up standing next to in line.  Running a distant second, I think, would be the time I met Paul Westerberg at an in-store appearance to promote his album "Stereo" at the Virgin Megastore on Newbury Street in Boston.  No doubt, it was my favorite musician-moment.

I was working in Davis Square in Somerville at the time, and Paul was scheduled to perform that evening at about 7 p.m. and sign afterwards.  I hopped on the Red Line immediately after leaving the office at 5 and arrived at the store to find a sizable crowd gathered on the first floor, winding through the aisles of new releases and books in front of the stage that had been set up.  We were all there pretty early, and we knew we'd be waiting a while for Paul to arrive. 

I found a couple of friends  - members of the Boston-based band AM Stereo (you've never heard of them, which is a shame - they're one of my favorites) - toward the middle of the room and chatted with them for a while.  They weren't the only musicians in the crowd, though.  Looking around, it was a virtual who's who of the local indie scene.  I didn't know everyone personally, but I'd been going to local shows at TTs, The Middle East, the Abbey Lounge, etc. enough to recognize faces.  Some big names, too.  I remember seeing Juliana Hatfield among others.

While everyone was waiting for the scheduled appearance, security flushed everyone outside to wait in a "proper" line (so as not to interfere with actual shoppers).  Many who had been waiting even longer than me were disappointed and milled around for a while, to see if the staff was serious about moving all non-customers along, figuring that if they lingered, maybe security would just give up and they'd be allowed to just stay where they were.  Being the unfun stickler for the rules that I am, I headed for the door and ended up about ten people deep in the newly formed queue.  A good move - they were serious about moving people out, and soon the line stretched outside the building.

When we were finally let back into the building for the performance, the CD displays had been rearranged, and the aisles that had been our temporary homes minutes earlier had taken on a new snaking form.  A handful of velvet ropes also guided people toward the stage.  The AM Stereo guys and I had to make a decision once we got inside - which aisle to walk down.  In a rare moment of pure, absolute, unqualified luck, I led us to the one that led directly in front of the stage - literally two feet from the microphone Paul would use, right in front of his monitors.  Dead center.

I wasn't the first to arrive for the show, but now I was front row center.  As much as I loved (and still love) The Replacements, I knew I couldn't possibly be the "biggest fan" there - they broke up while I was still in High School, and I'd never seen any of their legendary live performances.  I'd gotten into the 'Mats thanks to the video for "I'll Be You" on MTV's "120 Minutes".  I bought "Don't Tell A Soul" on cassette as soon as I could find a copy.  I'm willing to bet I was the only member of my graduating high school class who owned that record when it came out.  I still have an old 1989 tour t-shirt that I picked out of a bargain bin at Newbury Comics during one of my family's trips to Boston to see a Red Sox game during my high school years (we'd get into town early, and if we could convince my parents, we'd all walk over to Newbury Street so I could visit the shop). 

I filled in the rest of the Replacements catelog in the years I left high school in Worcester and started my life as a student at BU.  I didn't have a lot of money; though I had plenty of new friends, I certainly didn't have anything resembling a "social life".  I never dated, never drank, never wanted to spend what little money I had on going to shitty clubs that played shitty music just for the sake of being "social".  The money I spent was usually in Kenmore Square, at Nuggets or Planet Records.  Cheap used CDs were less than ten bucks (usually only six), and I started my collection of must-have records there. 

"Tim".  "Let It Be".  "All Shook Down".  Paul's two excellent contributions to the "Singles" soundtrack.  By that point, I understood why his music was considered "important".  It was a big deal to so many people, and now me too.

Front row center. 

I didn't deserve to be in that spot.  I knew it then, and I know it now.  But there I was ...

In an odd sort of way, I faced a dilemma - not only did I know I didn't deserve to be there, I also wanted to tape the show. 

This performance occurred during a wonderful phase of my life in which I'd taken to recording shows on my minidisc player.  I loved the sound of bootlegged live shows, but at that time they were difficult to track down, and expensive besides.  Peer-to-peer file sharing was a different beast, at that point, primarily focusing on pirated CDs.  I liked actually owning CDs, having the liner notes, the physical item to put on a shelf ... P2P files were lesser quality and didn't appeal to me nearly as much (plus, I had a dial-up modem with a crummy download speed, which didn't help matters).  Bit torrent didn't exist yet.  If you wanted a live recording, you had to buy an "import" CD from a local used record shop for a ridiculous price, or trade by searching for other collectors' lists on-line and sending stuff back and forth via snail-mail.

So I bought the minidisc player and the digital microphone and started my own collection (which turned out to be quite good, as far as I'm concerned).

And there I was, gear in hand, desperately wanting to record the show ... but what to do?  Give up the spot?  Forget about recording?

The hell with it.  I'd just take my chances.  The worst that could happen is that Paul or security or someone would tell me to put my stuff away.  When Paul came through the door, wearing a spray-painted suit and smelling like stinky cigars, I took out the microphone, slid the "record" button over, and crossed my fingers. 

I held the microphone with my sweaty-from-nerves right hand, pinned to my chest as if it would somehow not be noticable, knowing full well that it was clear as day.  At that point, I was hoping that I'd only pick up the music, not my nervously pounding heartbeat.

Paul went on stage and grabbed his guitar, took a pick off the mic stand, and started playing. 

Paul played sixteen songs that evening with no backing band.  Just him and a guitar.  Some solo, some stuff by the 'Mats.  The audience would have listened to him read the phone book.  He was mesmerizing, even when he mixed up the words to "Skyway". 

And I was there, right in front of him.  Undeservingly.  Brazenly taking more than he was giving, not quite shoving my microphone in his face, but not exactly being subtle about it either. 

Never once did he say anything about my recording his performance.  Security never came up to me.  The only downside to this point was that, as closest to the stage, I was the furthest from the start of the autograph line. 

I got into yet another line after Paul left the stage and waited.  And waited.  And waited.  I hadn't eaten anything since lunch and was tired and hungry, and it was pressing close to 10:30 by the time I got to Paul at his table.  He still smelled of cigar, and he had a pile of spent Sharpies at his side.  He'd had a long evening, too, but to his great credit he stayed to sign for everyone who wanted to wait. 

The AM Stereo guys, still hanging out with me, gave him a copy of the CD single they'd recorded (entitled "Bob Stinson's Dead", about the Replacement's old guitar player). I don't know what I said, if anything (I knew I wouldn't be able to say anything he hadn't heard a million times before).  As far as I'm concerned, for the sake of preserving what I perceive to have been a very fond memory, I simply said "thank you" and moved along.

And then Paul's "handler" approached me.  Uh oh.

"I saw you up front.  You recorded the show?"

Gulp.  "Yep."

"I'm Paul's manager."

Double gulp.

"We're trying to collect as much stuff as we can from these in-store performances.  Do you think you might be able to send me a copy?"

YES, YES, and YES!  He didn't care that I'd taped it - in fact, he was happy that I had!  He gave me his business card (I think I kept it - it's probably somewhere in the bottom of a box somewhere in my storage unit) and I sent it out within days (a land-speed record, by my standards). 

I've never put this show into circulation until now - with the exception of Paul's manager, I don't think I've ever shared this with anyone.  The sound is pretty good for a rinky dink set-up and an amateur taper, I think - funny how recording a performance from that distance helps, huh?  That the recording is not perfect mirrors the charm of the performer himself.  Rough around the edges, but still compelling.

Not only can you hear Paul's guitar through the monitors and amplifiers, you can at times hear the  un-amplified acoustic guitar strings recorded directly through my microphone, bypassing all electronic assistance.  Paul's "under-the-breath" commentary, perhaps lost to those in the back of the room, sounds clear as day in this recording. 

I really hope you like this bootleg.  If you're not familiar with Paul Westerberg or the Replacements, give it a shot and see what you think.  Pick up an album or two (just make sure "Tim" is one of them).  If you're already a fan, then this will be a treat - download it and share it with anyone who might like a copy.  Link to this page - I'll keep these files up for a good long while. 

Paul:  You wouldn't remember me if you sat down next to me and I told you the whole story directly, but thanks again - for everything. 

Also, please don't sue me for posting these ;)

If you want to download the show, individual files (320 kbps) or complete-show ZIP files are below.

Please trade, share, and spread the word - just don't sell copies!

01 Intro
02 Waiting For Somebody
03 Lookin' Out Forever
04 Once Around The Weekend
05 Hootenanny
06 No Place For You
07 Eyes Like Sparks
08 Born For Me
09 Mr. Rabbit
10 High Time
11 Alex Chilton
12 Crackle and Drag
13 Skyway
14 Unsatisfied
15 Let The Bad Times Roll
16 Someone Take The Wheel
17 Psychopharmacology

Complete show - 192 kbps mp3 zip file (~ 83 MB)
Complete show - 320 kbps mp3 zip file (~130 MB)
Complete show - lossless FLAC zip file (~290 MB)

Happy 3/16; diet update

Though I haven't updated my diet blog for a while now, the workouts continue.

No doubt lunch spoiled my brief celebration, but this morning when I weighed in ...

(drumroll please)

... I was 172.9 lbs. I haven't weighed that little since high school, maybe? I'm less than a pound away from being 40 lbs. lighter than my highest recorded weight. Wow.

Via Bryan, a reminder that today is 3/16. Or 3:16, if you prefer.

I miss the '90s

eMpTV is a horrible, horrible virus upon the world that needs to be destroyed ... but it didn't used to be that way.  Their website actually has a pretty incredible catalog of old music videos (yes, kids, MTV used to show music videos at one time - hard to believe, I know), and I've been rediscovering some old stuff I haven't seen in ages. 

There's probably going to be an ad or some sort of promo before each of these ... sorry. 

Velocity Girl: "Audrey's Eyes"

Velocity Girl - New Music - More Music Videos

Charlatans UK: "The Only One I Know"

The Charlatans UK - New Music - More Music Videos

Buffalo Tom: "Taillights Fade"

Buffalo Tom - New Music - More Music Videos

Lush: "Nothing Natural"

Lush - New Music - More Music Videos

10,000 Maniacs: "These Are Days"

10,000 Maniacs - New Music - More Music Videos

Updated live recordings list

My re-organization project is coming along pretty well.  Check it out.

15 "Profound" Albums

The latest Facebook meme is the one in which you're instructed to list "15 albums that had such a profound effect on you that they changed your life or the way you looked at it.  They sucked you in and took you over for days, weeks, months, years.  These are the albums that you can use to identify time, places, people emotions.  These are the albums that no matter what they were thought of musically shaped your world."

(I'm not going to "tag" people with requests to post their own lists, because I figure they've all gotten an in-box full of requests by now already, and even if they didn't, nothing's stopping them from writing their own list and posting it anyway.  I mean - good god, people, I know I'm a very important person, but you don't need my permission to do these things.  I appreciate your checking with me first, though.)

The emergence of this chain-request happily coincided with my recent purchase of a 1 Terrabyte external hard drive.  My plan was/is to finally consolodate all of my music collection in one location.  As a result, I'm re-ripping all of my CDs at 320 kbps and transferring my bootleg collection from piles of DVD-Rs into their own directory.  I'm finding that my archiving skills have been suspect at best - so many shows were duplicated on multiple DVDs, and I never kept a list to begin with ... After I rename all of my folders with artist name, performance dates, and locations of the shows, I'll post the file.  It'll be impressive, I promise - probably 1000+ shows, before I even get to all of the Black Crowes and Guns N' Roses stuff that may require another hard drive.  They're mostly in space-consuming/quality preserving .flac or .shn format, though, so another hard drive might be needed anyway ... which will just encourage me to download even MORE stuff that I'll never listen to.  Then there are the video bootlegs on individual DVDs ... I have a problem, is what I'm saying.

But as far as my 15 albums go, I'm going to miss something somewhere, I'm sure, so it's quite possible this list will eventually be amended at some point.  I also realize that there are no albums by Queen or Led Zeppelin on this list, and I freakin' LOVE Queen and Led Zeppelin, so go figure. 

The list will probably be more chronological than anything, though upon drafting my list I realize that a majority of the artists listed below put out amazing records that I caught onto after the fact - The Replacements' "Tim" for instance, is a better record (and one I listen to more often) than "Don't Tell a Soul", but I "discovered" the 'Mats with "Don't Tell a Soul" (then worked backwards in their catalog), so it had more of a lasting effect on me. 

I was born in 1974, so I'm sure I didn't become too aware of the concept of "popular music" until the mid-1980s.  Until then, I listened to whatever my parents listened to, which was primarily the "oldies" station.  This is painful to think about, because in the mid-80s, music from the 60s was already considered worthy of the title "oldies".  Now, in 2009, GNR's "Appetite For Destruction" is 20+ years old, and ACDC's "Back in Black" is pushing 30 (and some people still consider Brian Johnson "the new guy", which I think is hysterical).  Technically, by precedent, these albums are also now "oldies", which kinda freaks me out.  I don't even like them to be considered "classic rock".  I feel young physically (except the whole getting out of bed thing), but I'm feeling like I'm at least twice as old as I want to musically.  On the other hand, when I hear what's "popular" today, I'm going to be a cranky old man anyway, because so much of it is absolutely terrible.  GET OFF MY LAWN, FALL OUT BOY!

Though I grew up on the music of the 60s to an extent, very little of it had any lasting effect on me.  I appreciate the Beatles and the Stones (though anything of theirs after the late 70s is pretty much a waste of my time, unfortunately), but I found deeper connections with more contemporary albums.

So the mid-80s is probably a great place to start.

1. "1984" - Van Halen
I could be mistaken, but I'm 99% sure that the first album (or cassette, actually) I ever bought with my own money was "1984".  I didn't know anything about Van Halen prior to seeing the video for "Jump", because my folks didn't listen to "modern" FM rock stations.  MTV came along, though, and changed everything.  Synth or no, it's still my favorite VH record. 

2. "Appetite for Destruction" - Guns N' Roses
Still sounds as fresh to me as the first time I heard it.  This record came out in '87, so I was in junior high at the time.  Though I don't think I could actually relate (then, or now for that matter) in a personal, first-hand kind of way to the great anger, frustration, and rebellion that Axl Rose lets loose on this record, I got (and still get) a rise out of the power of his voice and the perfect tones and melodies of Slash's solos.  I'm still a huge Slash mark - the dude writes solos you can sing along with, you know?  Not many people do that anymore.  Plus, at the time, "hair bands" (Poison, Winger, Cinderella) were really popular, and these guys seemed so different, even though they were bunched in with those other horrible acts.  Twenty-plus years later, this album stands tall while the others have fallen to the wayside.

3. "... And Justice For All" - Metallica
My brother, a year younger than me, was into Metallica by the time "Master of Puppets" was released.  It took me a few years to catch on that they were more than just the noise I thought they were.  When their first video for "One" came to MTV, I was impressed at the intensity, but I never bothered to listen to my brother's tapes.  In a bold move at the time, because I had no regular source of income other than my paper route, I joined the BMG Music Club to expand my album library to include albums that weren't just radio-recorded nonsense.  I had to pick 12 albums (for the price of one, with no further obligation to buy - ever!), so what the hell ... Metallica it was.  I couldn't tell you what else I got, because I only remember listening to this one.  Over, and over, and over.  School was a 15-20 minute walk from my house, and this frequently accompanied my travels.  I got on the bandwagon late, then had to wait another 20 years for it to come through my neighborhood again (Thanks again for "Death Magnetic"!)


4. "Dont Tell a Soul" - The Replacements
5. "Green" - REM
Would I have discovered these albums without Dave Kendall hosting MTV's "120 Minutes" every Sunday night at midnight?  Probably, just not as soon as I did.  I had many sleepy, blurry-eyed Monday mornings as a result of the show.  My introduction to REM was their video for "Stand"; I bought the record, and realized it was far from the best track on it.  To this day, I get excited every time I hear the Replacements' "I'll Be You".  Two great records that made me realize that the best music wasn't necessarily that which could be found on the radio.

(If you'll excuse me for a moment while I pull my "grumpy old man" pants up to my nipples and shake my fist for a moment ...)  See, kids, there used to be a really cool thing called "alternative music".  It was kind of like today's "indie" scene, but a whole lot less pretensious and a helluva lot more creative.  There were bands who didn't fit in to "mainstream" radio playlists and who weren't necessarily trying to look/act like/be "rock stars".  They just played awesome, sometimes serious, sometimes quirky music and did their thing, not trying to become the "next big thing" in the post-tween demographic.  What apparently passes as "alternative" today is essentially being an emo-based boy band that plays its own instruments and has horrible haircuts.  "Alternative" music was really awesome for a while in the 90s, until the Red Hot Chili Peppers destroyed it with "Under the Bridge".  I blame everything on them.  I'm not joking even a little bit. 

6. "Disintegration" - The Cure
Holy shit.  I think this was the second CD I ever bought (more on the first in a moment).

There was a girl I knew in high school who had a Cure t-shirt, and our musical tastes overlapped at least a little bit (not much, but enough to hold up an occasional conversation).  I was somewhat familiar with the video for "Love Song", but she recommended that I check out the whole album.  In another act of financial daring, I threw down not for the cassette but for the CD instead because I'd gotten a stereo receiver unit (with built-in dual cassette players for dubbing, a CD player, and AM/FM antennas) for Christmas and could listen to my own music.  This must have been in '88?  Researching on Amazon, I see that the album came out in May '89, and I didn't get it until at least a couple months after it had been released, and I know I wouldn't have bought the CD if I couldn't listen to it in my own room ...

Anyway, getting the CD was a great choice because, even though my stereo was hardly state of the art, it was much better than the crappy tape deck I had.  And if you know this record, you know that the album absolutely shimmers and sparkles when you listen to it.  The production was so deep and wonderful, and it filled up my room with so many bits and pieces that I never would have heard on a tape.  If you own it, throw it in and press play.  It starts with a hint of chimes ringing lightly, and opens into an absolutely breathtaking epic of sound ... an absolutely gorgeous record, beginning to end. 

The first CD?  I'm sure of this one:  "The Great Radio Controversy" by Tesla.  No joke.  Very different from "Disintegration", of course (not even in the same league, actually), but it's actually not a bad record, all things considered. 

You know what also came out in 1989?

7. "The Real Thing" - Faith No More
Unfortunately, this was one of the most influential albums of the last 20 years. 

But if you love it enough to have it on your list, Jim, why is it "unfortunate" that it was so influential?

Because every band who followed and tried their hand at a rap/rock fusion failed miserably, resulting in so much horrible music.  What was so amazing on this record quickly mutated into beastly aural abortions such as Limp Bizkit.  There is a direct, unfortunate line that links both of these albums.  Somehow, my opinion of this album isn't tarnished, despite the havoc that it set loose upon the world. 

"The Real Thing" was, as I understand it, recorded without vocals while the band searched for a new lead singer (their first, Chuck Mosely, left after their first album, "We Care A Lot" - the title track of which is now the theme song for "Dirty Jobs with Mike Rowe".  Weird.)  Mike Patton came along, came up with the lyrics after listening to the instrumentals.  Just add a flipping fish, and the rest is history! 

8. "Shake Your Moneymaker" - The Black Crowes
I drove my friends crazy with this album - because when I had the wheel, I played this album again and again (nothing like the power of a high schooler driving his parents' white Subaru station wagon ... with a TAPE DECK!).  Another MTV discovery - before "Hard to Handle" and "She Talks to Angels" became big hits, they attempted two other singles: "Twice as Hard" and "Jealous Again".  I remember seeing the video for "Jealous Again" and remarking to my brother that they were the Izzy Stradlin'-est band I'd ever seen.  They all looked like Izzy to me.  I really dug the bluesy sound, though, and I got the record. 

The first concert I ever went to was ZZ Top at the Worcester Centrum, but I didn't go because I wanted to see them.  I wanted to see the Crowes, who were the opening act (before they got booted off the tour). 

I've seen them at least 10 times since, and gotten to go backstage to meet them once (which would actually be a great story for its own blog entry someday).  And I have so, so many bootlegs.  Thank you, internets!

9. Nirvana - "Nevermind"
10. Pearl Jam - "Ten"

For anyone 33-40 years old, I'd say, these should probably just be a "gimme", like how contestants on "Wheel of Fortune" are automatically given R,S,T,L,N and E when trying to solve their final puzzles.  It's just understood that most people are going to put one or both of these on their lists, so they shouldn't really count as "choices" in the first place. 

It's hard to put the importance of "Nevermind" into the proper perspective for anyone who only knows Dave Grohl as a Foo Fighter.  When "Smells Like Teen Spirit" hit, the direction of popular music changed literally instantaneously.  The era of big hair ended, and flannel and canvas Chuck Taylor All-Stars replaced ripped jeans as the look-of-the-moment.  Many bands took the verse-chorus-verse, soft-loud-soft approach before and after Nirvana's breakout (Nirvana took after the Pixies, for instance), but few had the dramatic, powerful results that they did. 

It was also a matter of right place, right time, too.  Hair bands were stale, and the young audience that bought into the "grunge" movement were energizing changes on a larger scale, too.  After 12 years of Republican control of the White House, for exampe, the Clintons were on their way in.  It was a perfect cultural storm, and Nirvana led the charge.  Kurt Cobain never seemed comfortable with the attention, however, and didn't want to be a spokesman for any movement, no matter how responsible they were for it. 

Pearl Jam, however, seemed happy to be such a voice - for the first year or two, at least, before Eddie Vedder seemingly forgot how to speak in complete sentences for a while, mumbling through interviews and deciding not to make videos for their songs. 

As years have passed, I have to admit that the shine on "Ten" has faded a bit for me, though I still enjoy Pearl Jam on the whole.

11. "Singles" - soundtrack
I love this record.  Love it, love it, love it. (With the exception of the Lovemongers' take on Led Zeppelin's "Battle of Evermore".)  More Pearl Jam (two of their best songs ever are on this record, and aren't on any of their own albums) and other Seattle bands who led the grunge movement, Paul Westerberg of the Replacements, Smashing Pumpkins ... oh, man.

Not only was this the soundtrack of a movie, it essentially became the soundtrack to my college years.  Friends I made, realizations I came to, girls I wanted to speak to more (but was, regretfully, ultimately too chicken) ... lots of memories (some great, some not so great) flood back when I listen to this CD. 

Perhaps not an important record in the grand scheme of things, but it's definitely one that's near and dear to my heart.

12. Buffalo Tom - "Big Red Letter Day"
13. Morphine - "Cure For Pain"
14. Dinosaur Jr - "Where You Been"

One of the great side-effects of going to college in Boston was that my time there coincided with the rise in prominence of an incredible number of musicians and performers who were also locals to the scene.  Dinosaur Jr was less Boston-based than Morphine or Buffalo Tom, so I didn't see them around much, but I'd get the free copy of the Boston Phoenix every week and scour the listings.  So many great bands, so little money in my poor-student hands.  Letters to Cleo played everywhere.  The Bosstones were huge locally, but not yet nationally.  And there were so many other bands that I would hear about every week on WFNX's "Local Product" or WBCN's "Boston Emissions" broadcasts that never got as famous as their counterparts - I really enjoyed Smackmelon, for instance.  By brother got me into Bullet LaVolta a bit.  And who didn't love (and slightly fear) a band called Scissorfight?  If ever a band sounded the way their name would lead you believe they might, it was Scissorfight.

Buffalo Tom caught on nationally thanks to the TV show "My So Called Life" and the use of "Sodajerk" in a Nike commercial.  Morphine drew critical acclaim at every turn with every one of their releases.  Dinosaur Jr brought their giant guitar sound on tour with Lollapallooza.  And, as a Bostonian, they were all mine.  At least, as far as I was concered they were.  I was happy to lay claim to them as Bostonians - much more so than I was to simply accept that Aerosmith and Extreme were the best my city could offer. 

I'm still not sure I've ever been cool enough to deserve being a fan of Morphine's - that's some seriously sexy music for sexy people.  Buffalo Tom was just an honest rock band with themes of love, loss, and wanting that I could relate to in a big way.  Dinosaur Jr was all about melodies and guitars - giant, screaming guitars.  Riff heaven, kids.  And that awesome purple t-shirt, which I wore out and had to retire.  I had that thing for 15+ years before accepting that I couldn't wear it in public anymore due to rips, stretches, and fading. 

They've been a part of me ever since. 

I can't believe it's been about a decade since Mark Sandman left us so unexpectedly (he died of a heart attack onstage in Italy).  After he died, I went to a bunch of Orchestra Morphine shows at the Lizard Lounge and taped them ... I really should post them someday.  Dana Colley was joined by a couple of other musicians to create a layered horn section that the original Morphine could only create on record.  Laurie Sargent (whose "Streets of Fire" soundtrack contribution "Nowhere Fast" is *still* ever-present on my iPod) shared vocals.  And I would sit or stand literally feet from them, wondering what they could be thinking as they performed the amazing songs that Mark had written before he died. 

I went to the ceremony in Central Square that honored Mark by proclaiming the corner between the Middle East and Hi-Fi Pizza "Mark Sandman Square".  I took a lot of pictures that day.  I lived just outside of Central Square for a couple of years after that, and it always broke my heart a little bit to see that sign, to know that Mark was gone for real. 

Buffalo Tom doesn't tour that much anymore and didn't put out any records for nine years between "Smitten" (1998) and "Three Easy Pieces" (2007), but I still listen to them all the time and have two of the exact same BT t-shirts in different colors in my regular clothing rotation.  Don't know why I can't just pick one.  Bill Janovitz, one of my favorite songwriters and all around nice guys, has slightly demoted himself to being a "Part Time Man of Rock", but he stays busy playing out regularly in Boston and treats his fans to his free "Cover of the Week" mp3 project on his blog.  Plus, he's a friend of Theo and Peter, which makes me eternally jealous.  If you're not sure who Theo and Peter are, realize that I'm a Red Sox fan, and maybe you'll figure it out.

15.  "New Parade" - The Sheila Divine
Surprise!  You knew it was on the list somewhere, right?  It had to be.

This album resulted in me finding a new set of best friends after my old set of best friends (from college) all left Boston long before I did.  I went to shows and slowly but surely found a network of comforting souls who shared similar interests and attitudes about being 20-something in the city.  We hung out at shows at first - the front two or three rows in the center was usually where we would be found - but eventually started meeting up outside of music venues for drinks, or cookouts, or to go to the movies.  Sometimes without a "ringleader" it can be awkward: if person A knows persons B and C, B and C might not speak to each other without A being around.  Not with us.  Everyone knew everyone, and we could all have fun no matter who was around.  We were interchangable parts. 

We would take road trips to Providence, or Portland (Maine), or New York City, or even that one driving trip to Buffalo.  Whoever could be ready on time and fit in the car, we were ready to go.  Sometimes we just had to jump on the subway - a show at the Sam Adams Brewery, or maybe at a restaurant near South Station, or those amazing New Years Eve shows at the Paradise.

The Sheila Divine was also responsible for my trip to Belgium; had they not been OK with me inviting myself along for their brief tour there, I wouldn't have gone.  But by that point, in the summer of 2001, I was friendly with them and they found room in their tour van to drive me with them from town to town for their shows. 

I had a blast.  Always.

The band announced they were breaking up at just about the same time I was preparing to leave Boston and move to Portland (Oregon).  They planned two farewell performances to take place about 8 weeks after I moved, and my friends - the ones who would share car seats or save a place at the bar for me - raised a collection to fly me back so I could be there, because it was important to me. 

Because it was important to us.

My friend Alan recorded the shows and put out a terrific DVD for fans of the band, and toward the end of the show, there I am ... red faced and misty eyed.  I'm no weirdo emo kid who cries at shows because that's what you're supposed to do at a Dashboard Confessional concert, but I was choked up because I knew that it was really over. 

My time in Boston was done, the band who'd brought us all together was no more, and my time with this great group of friends who meant (and still mean) more to me than they could ever possibly know had come to an end.

All wrapped up with a lyric in "Automatic Buffalo":

So if I walk out
and if I walk out
Then it's c'est la vie
I'll be history

So yeah, it was more than a little emotional.

... all that, and I haven't even mentioned the music yet.  The album was so important to me personally that the music itself ranks second on my list of reasons why it was so vital in my life.  That's got to count for something, right?

If you're interested, check out one of my pet projects, The Sheila Divine Archive.

Obama's Elf

This will probably be one of the top 5 viral videos of the calendar year 2009.  By the end of next week, you'll probably have been forwarded this link several times.

For once, though, I'm jumping on the bandwagon super-early, because no matter what your political leanings are, this video is NOTHING BUT PURE WIN.

Enjoy!

Obama's Elf

The Wrestler

Edit:  a quick note - I link to some YouTube videos of CZW wrestling below.  If you decide to check them out, please note that they are very likely to be disturbing and gross.  I watched one - barely - because I wanted to see what "real" CZW wrestling was like.  Turns out - unsurprisingly - I'm not a fan of that kind of stuff.  I'd rather see Vince's cartoonish version instead.  Just a heads up.

************

A long-overdue review of "The Wrestler", per the relentless prodding of my cousin Chris*:

I had heard about the movie during it's production, and would have been hesitant to give it much of a chance if not for the fact that I knew Darren Aronofsky was directing.  In less capable hands, this story would have been a mess ... how does one tell a fictional story about fictional characters who pretend to be *other* fictional characters telling fictional stories? 

Only in the world of professional wrestling ...

Though I don't watch as often as I used to, I'm still a fan.  I'm not embarrassed to admit it.  It's like a soap opera, but sports-based.  "Sports"-based.  Or something like that.  What we see on TV is just a silly story punctuated by incredible athleticism, feats of bravery, good vs. evil, and a cliffhanger every week.  Plus, it's done live in front of thousands of fans.  (Take that, "Desperate Housewives"!)  But it's so much more than that, too, for anyone who is a "smart", who understands that there's more to the story than just what's on TV.

I'm also not going to defend the business.  Everyone knows about the Chris Benoit tragedy.  Everyone knows about Owen Hart's horrible accident.  Everyone knows about issues with steroids, and Vince McMahon being a difficult and demanding boss (and a great promoter and businessman, as well as ... well, a pretty weird guy sometimes). 

But what about the guys who aren't in the spotlight?  Guys who never made it big and graduated on to better things before their bodies gave up on them? Or guys who gave up on themselves, instead?  For every success story like Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson, there are hundreds of anonymous gym rats who treat their bodies like lab rats instead.

This is not a film about wrestling, despite the title.  This is a movie about Randy "The Ram" Robinson, a man who gave up on himself years ago and has slowly watched his life fall apart, town by town, road trip by road trip, because he simply doesn't know how (or want) to do anything else.  It's also about a man who really doesn't know who he is, because he's blurred the line between the man he actually is and the persona he becomes when he pulls on his tights.

The Ram used to be a huge star: he held national championship titles, wrestled on some of the biggest cards of his time, and was well loved by his adoring fans.  This we learn before the opening credits finish rolling.  But we also know his time has long since passed - his choice of his own "entrance theme" music gives it away. 

He's still in good ring shape, aided by injections, tanning sessions, and hair dying.  But now he lives alone in a trailer that he can barely afford.  He has to wear a hearing aid.  His entertainment is a small TV, an old 8-bit video game system (with which he is able to re-live his glory days with the kids in the neighborhood), and a rack full of audio cassettes from the Reagan/Bush era.  To make ends meet, he works part-time at a supermarket for a boss who clearly looks down upon the choices that The Ram has made in life.

But wrestling is all he knows and loves - and he's driven by the "pop" he gets from the fans when he comes through the curtains and down to the ring, even if it just for a few dozen fans at a local VFW hall.  One of the most powerful scenes in the film, in my opinion, takes place as he wanders through the bland cement hallways of a building, winding his way through stairwells and passages, only to split the curtain hanging over the door while he hears the fans building to a crescendo only to discover ... well, I won't ruin it for you.  It's a heartbreaking glimpse into the Ram's psyche, at any rate - an indication that the way he wants the world to react to him and the way he needs to react to the world are vastly different.

He justifies the risks he takes by thinking its what the fans want to see, though what he sees through his own eyes scares him (at a "legends" convention, some of his contemporaries are in wheelchairs, or have to wear bags to collect their urine).  He knows this could be his own future, yet pushes forth in matches that would make performers half his age second guess their chosen careers (the match against Necro Butcher in CZW is not for the feint of heart).

The colorful, larger than life characters a wrestling fan might expect to see in the ring are brought back to earth in the locker room, where "the boys" are paired up prior to the matches to discuss how their bouts are scheduled to conclude, and to figure out how their "spots" (pre-determined wrestling moves) will be worked into the performances. 

It reminded me of a time in the late 90s, when I went to see ECW (the pre-WWE version) in Webster, MA.  A relative was on the school board (if I recall correctly) in Webster, and was helping to run a concession stand at the event as a school fundraiser.  She knew I was a fan, and got me into the building a couple of hours before the show to help "set up".  I maybe moved some bags of ice, but pretty much just lurked in the shadows watching the wrestlers get ready.  I saw Joel Gertner sitting in the front row eating donut after donut.  I saw Beulah McGillicutty walking her dog around the arena.  I saw Tommy Dreamer and Raven in the ring practicing their scheduled match ahead of time, at half-speed.  But they weren't Gertner, Dreamer and Raven ... they were the people who played them.  Gertner, Dreamer and Raven didn't show up until a few hours later.

It was a little odd to see back then, but when I saw it on the big screen I understood it. I'd seen it before.  For real.  In person.

Maybe that's what made this movie resonate so much ... it's also real, even though it's fictional.  Randy "The Ram" Robinson doesn't exist, but Necro Butcher is indeed a very real wrestler (most of his matches are heavy on gore and violence, not the stuff one sees on TV every week) who actually makes a living in this non-big screen life by putting his body through torture, for lack of a better word.  CZW, Combat Zone Wrestling, is a very real independent promotion.  ROH, Ring of Honor, is highlighted in the film's final match, and is likely to be the next "big thing" to bubble up from the underground of the industry.  As for that final match, it was taped during a real ROH show at Philadelphia's legendary ECW Arena, the closest thing to wrestling Mecca in the US outside of Madison Square Garden.

Though the lead in this film, wonderfully portrayed by Mickey Rourke (who is absolutely worthy of all the acclaim he's received for his performance), is a fictional creation, it was hard not to watch him and think of names of real life wrestlers who could easily have taken his place had this film been a documentary feature instead:  Jake "The Snake" Roberts comes to mind.  Sabu, sadly, could also lace up the Ram's boots someday soon.  If you haven't seen "Beyond the Mat" or "Heroes of World Class" (about WCCW and the Von Erichs), they're both documentaries about the business and I can't recommend them highly enough.

(A sidebar about Mickey Rourke:  enough of this "comeback" talk, movie critics!  Does NO ONE remember his criminally overlooked performance in "Sin City"?  He was deserving of a Best Supporting Actor nomination for that movie, too.)

The subplots are also compelling.  Randy has an estranged daughter, who doesn't know her father because he was always on the road instead of at home raising her.  Marisa Tomei plays Cassidy, a stripper who faces a battle parallel to that of The Ram's: splitting her life between two distinct personalities, and not being able to separate them fully from each other. 

In the end, "The Wrestler" is a sad movie (not Kleenex sad, generally just a downer kind of sad) with an uncomfortable, ambiguous ending wholly appropriate in keeping with the general tone of the film. 

Though one knows how a wrestling match is supposed to end, "real life" is not at all so simple.





* (just kidding, Chris - I should have written this and responded to you long ago).

Smackdown vs. Raw '08: finally, the credits screen!, fun links

New music on the right, if you're reading on sonicplague.com.  As you can tell, that Fire, Inc. song is STILL lodged in my head, like those bugs in the Wrath of Khan.  It's not as bad as it was before, but it's still ... not right. 

It took me forever, because I had to become a "Legend" to unlock the closing credits for the game, but here it is finally: visual evidence that I did, in fact, write part of THQ's "WWE Smackdown vs. Raw 2008" video game.  I don't know that anyone doubted me (most of those who read this blog are, I think, close enough friends to realize I wouldn't make something like this up), but just in case ... here it is:


Click for larger image


I can now stop talking about it!

***

The eating portion of the new weight-loss program I've started is going to turn 90 days into 120, I think.  Thursday night, the workout was followed by a trip to a sushi restaurant.  Saturday night, it was followed by a drive out to Hoboken to have Mexican food with some friends (one of whom is a Yankees fan, but a totally cool guy other than that).  Though we weren't officially on the diet at this point, I should probably also mention that I think I'm still digesting all of the great food provided at the Superbowl party a while back.  So it's going to take a while to get into the swing, for sure.

Unlike the diet that Mike Nelson, late of MST3K and RiffTrax is undertaking. He's currently blogging about his February menu:  all bacon, all the time.  A whole month of bacon. 

Godspeed, sir.

***

A quick link, via JD, and it's too good to pass up sharing.  Whether you like Obama or not, it's always funny to hear "serious" people saying things you wouldn't expect.  In this case, selected quotes from his audiobook are taken out of context for your listening pleasure.  Enjoy!

Barack Obama is tired of your motherfucking shit

***

One final piece of nonsense (for now) - particularly if you're a fan of Valve's outstanding "Left 4 Dead" video game.  Here's a music video of Francis explaining to everyone that he hates ... everything.

Sushi, MST3K revisited, and the Boss

Edit: ahh, nuts.  What happend to my formatting on sonicplague.com?  Urgh ...

Though this would be better served for placement in my diet/exercise blog, given that our excursion last night pretty much wiped out any progress yesterday's workout allegedly may have provided, I would like to announce that we've finally found an awesome little eatery here in Morristown: the Asashi Sushi restaurant.

In PDX, we were spoiled ... everywhere one turns, there's a new restaurant to try out.  Some aren't so good, many are terrific.  But in our neck of the woods ... ugh.  I know we haven't tried too many places yet, but there seem to be five distinct choices in our current vicinity:

1. Italian
2. Shitty Italian
3. Diners (featuring many plates with "Italian sauce")
4. Chains (Fuddruckers!  Outback!  TGI Fridays!)
5. Fast food

But this ... this absolute OASIS in a desert of horrors!  It's a smallish place, maybe seven or eight tables at most, and the sushi chef prepares everything fresh, at the counter out in the open, for all to see.  The presentation is gorgeous.  The restaurant itself is warm and inviting, a particular treat when the temperature outside is in the teens and you had to park a few blocks away at the garage because there's no street parking to be found and the people around you are driving like ignorant jerks who ... ahem, anyway.

I have to admit, I'm not as adventurous in my eating habits as I'd like to be in some ways, such as with sushi (the faux Trader Joe's ones don't count).  Nicole loves the stuff ... I tend to stick to rice and meat plates, or tempura.  But I'll try her sushi rolls every now and then, and I'm warming up to it, slowly but surely.  I promised her that next time we went, I'd take the plunge and order nothing but sushi. 

Anyway, it was a nice treat and a fun night out.  One of too few these days.

*****

How does one learn things that are untaught?  I ask, because what this guy has done in his garage is inspiring to me:  www.joecrow.com.  He makes, by hand, full-scale replicas of the 'bots from Mystery Science Theater 3000 (even Cambot!).  He also sells individual parts, if you want to make your own, and has posted step-by-step instructions on how to make your own.  Amazing.  And they're really spot-on, too!  It's not like he's made "close approximations" - these seem screen-ready. 

Maybe someday ...

Speaking of MST3K, though, Nicole, my brother and me are heading to the Somerville Theater on the 21st to see a live performance of Cinematic Titanic, featuring Joel Hodgson (Joel Hodgson), Trace Beaulieu (Dr. Forrester), Mary Jo Pehl (Pearl Forrester), Josh Weinstein (Dr. Erhardt - waaaay back in the early MST days), and Frank Connif (TV's Frank). 

Heroes of mine.  HEROES, I tell you! 

I've always wanted to see/meet these guys - my brother and I watched MST every week back when it was on Comedy Central.  I went to see"Mitchell" at the Morse Auditorium when MST was sending the film on a college tour in the 90s (no stars in person, just the movie starring MST fave Joe Don Baker - during which Mike Nelson takes over for Joel).  I went to see MST3K: The Movie when it was out in theaters. 

So when I got the e-mail with the presale password, I told Nicole and, even though we're trying not to spend money unnecessarily, she declared an entertainment emergency. 

When tickets went on sale, I pounced and was on-line waiting.

At the Somerville Theater, row A is the front row in the center orchestra section - right in front of the stage.  This row is for patrons who have wheelchairs.  My three seats are row B, seats 7,8, and 9 (that's pretty much dead center).  Do the math.  It's going to be a fun, fun night.

More fun than everyone around here who tried to get tickets to Bruce Springsteen at the Izod Center in Newark via Ticketmaster but were shut out and diverted to a ticket re-sale agency immediately upon the moment tickets went on-sale.  The tickets that fans could not purchase because of "error messages" on the TM website were available within minutes via TicketsNow, at jacked up prices. Ticketmaster has always practiced douchebaggery, and now there are going to be investigations.  I hope someone holds their feet to the fire, not just for this, but because they're a horrible, horrible company in general (despite my luck this time around).

For more on the Springsteen story, visit this link and read the story.  Even if you're not a fan, it's a good read and a worthy click of your mouse.

Seriously, check it out.

My new diet and exercise program blog

God help us all, I'm actually going on a fairly strict diet and exercise regimen.  Well, exercise, at least.  I'm prone to the occasional poor nutrition choice.  I'm going to be more careful, though.

The worst best part?  I'm going to be vain enough to blog about it and post occasional pictures to track my progress.

Join me, won't you?

http://www.sonicplague.com/slimjim

(JD, start your engines ...)

25 Things About Me

The rules, as stated by the Facebook instructions in the chain letter, state:

If you've been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 25 random things, facts, habits, or goals about you.

I ignore most chain-letter requests like these, but I've received three in the past two days from friends with whom I haven't kept in touch as well as I ought to have (and I haven't written a blog entry in a few days), so why not? 

1. At 34 years old, I have never used any illegal drug and have never used any tobacco product of any kind.

2. I hate daytime and "reality" TV shows.  Prime-time TV isn't much better.  I can't understand how so many cable channels manage to stay in business, given the horrible shows they decide to air.

3. After college, I topped out at 212 lbs.  (Thank you, B.U. meal plan.  Thank you, Dunkin Donuts.)  I currently weight ever-so-slightly just under 180. 

4. I don't write nearly as well as I like to think I do.  My sentences tend to ramble, I use too many parenthetical asides (like this one!), I don't get to the point fast enough, and I don't transition from subject to subject as smoothly as I should.  In fairness, one is taught to find his or her "own voice" when writing ... well, I guess this *is* my own voice, because I speak like this as well.

5. My college years were essentially wasted, education-wise.  I was an engineering student for the first two years.  After much internal debate, I couldn't see myself being happy in that line of work, so I transferred to Communications as a journalism major.  Bad decision.  I don't know what I was thinking.  Given my need to fulfill requirements of the switch in majors, my responsibilities as a Resident Assistant (heightened by some of the cretins who lived on my floor), and the general sadness and malaise resulting from my father's death from a heart attack during my senior year, I lost a lot of motivation to do more than the minimum necessary to just get through.  I was never an intern or co-op, I had no clip file to speak of for prospective journalistic employers (see #6), and I didn't have the contacts that many others who spent four years in the program did.  A journalism career seemed unlikely from the start, and my engineering days left me unable to do simple multiplication, never mind Modern Physics or Electronic Circuit Theory.  So four years and countless thousands of dollars later ... I don't know.  I should have just taken it to Las Vegas instead.

6. I tried working for the B.U. newspaper, the Daily Free Press, but it
was a bit disastrous. I attempted to write actual news stories during my Junior year (my first year as a COM student), but my first two experiences were horrible.  The very first went unpublished (I don't recall the reason, nor the topic of the story).  The second assignment was to interview members of the Senior class to find out why they were upset that the traditional Senior Week clambake was to be alcohol-free.  I went to the Student Union and started asking "Are you a Senior?  Are you a Senior?"  It was tough to find a sampling of the population willing to answer my questions.  Eventually I got a couple of quotes from a few people, and the response was, in general, "yeah ... it's really not a big deal."

Apparently it *was* a big deal to whoever the editor of the Freep was at the time (a Senior, I assume).  The only "negative" quote I got was used and taken somewhat out of context, so when the story ran, it was much shorter than the one I had turned in, and it had a much different tone.  I got an angry voice mail from the person who was quoted.  I called her back and asked for her e-mail address, so I could send her the version I had actually written, prior to the edits that were made in the print version. 

On a personal level, this cleared things up with the person who was quoted, but it left a really bad taste in my mouth in regard to the process as a whole.

As a senior, though, I wrote a poorly-conceived, semi-half assed bi-weekly column in the Op-Ed pages.  Though they make me cringe to re-read now, this experience was actually a lot of fun and ultimlately led to my creation of a poorly-conceived, semi-half assed blog that seems to get published even less frequently.  Go figure.

7. I have been to Japan, Belgium, England, and France, but I have never been to Canada or Mexico.

8. Everywhere you turn in my apartment, you can find something with a Red Sox logo on it. 

9. I have never been arrested and have never received a ticket for a moving violation.  I got a parking ticket once, over ten years ago.

10. I used to have long hair, but genetics failed me.  Now, I buzz it down or shave it off altogether.  What used to be 7-8 inches long now rarely even gets to 7/8 of an inch!

11. I have no tattoos or piercings.

12. I often wonder how different my life would have been if I had been more aggressive and much braver in my teens and early 20s.  If I could have been more of the me that I am now back then, I probably would have had a lot more fun. 

13. I consider myself a liberal, not a Democrat.  The names "Democrat" and "Republican" seem too divisive to me, in a way.  "Democrat" is a party, "liberal" is a mindset.  I'm not so eager to claim loyalty to the former, but my values and morals lead me to embrace the latter.

14. I am not a religious person (here's some of the reason why), but have no problem with anyone else who is.  I do think that religion and politics is a potentially toxic mix, however.

15. I have literally thousands of bootleg concerts archived on DVD-R.  I am working on a comprehensive list in MS Excel format. 

16. I have downloaded music and not paid for it.  Most of it has been deleted almost instantly, however, because so much of it is terrible.  I'll see a band written up in a music-related blog, so I'll check it out to see if it's worth buying, and so often it's just awful ... so, so awful.  The vast majority of today's popular music doesn't excite me at all.

17. I am a movie snob. 

18. I left all of my wonderful friends and a city I absolutely love (Boston) in 2003 to move to Portland, Oregon ... to follow a girl.  We've been married since September 2006.  I still can't quite believe she puts up with my nonsense, but she does. 

19. I met my wife in Harvard Square at a book signing.  We were waiting to meet the eternally awesome Bruce Campbell (who is as cool and gracious in person as you could ever hope he would be). 

20. I miss Portland dearly.  I miss the rainy days, the gauntlet of homeless panhandlers downtown, and the coffee shops every fifty feet in any given direction.  I miss Powell's World of Books.  I miss Fred Meyer.  I miss the Mission and Cinema 21.

Mostly, I miss my friends.

21.  I have a co-writing credit for THQ's "WWE Smackdown vs. Raw 2008" video game.  My friend Bryan wrote the storylines for the game, and asked me if I'd be interested in helping him re-write some of the commentary by the announce teams.  I wrote more than 4000 lines of dialogue, but it was never used.  Apparently they couldn't get the voice-overs recorded on time, so all my work sits in a spreadsheet somewhere ... I haven't played the 2009 version, so I don't know if any of it was used for the newest version, though I doubt it.

Some of the "articles" I wrote for the WWE magazines used as in-game plot devices were used, though, so as you play the game, some of what you read is stuff I wrote.

Though it was disappointing to play the game and not hear the dialogue that I wrote added into it, it was a great experience.  I have the THQ contract, check stubs, and original electronic files to prove I actually worked on it.

Now if I could just unlock the closing credits and take a screen shot of my name in the scroll ...

22. I have small feet (size 8 or 8.5).

23. I own a lot of clothing that never gets worn.  Dozens of t-shirts, at least 14 polos, close to 20 button-downs, and 15 pair of pants. 

24. I have tried on numerous occasions to enjoy wine, but I just don't like it.  I'm also not a big fan of hard alcohol.  If you offer me any variety of Sam Adams beer, however, I will not turn you down.

25. I don't read nearly as much as I should.  I have so many bookshelves full of novels that I'll "get to eventually", but never seem to. 

Thank you, Dr. Lowery

I am not a religious person in the slightest, but I want to compliment Dr. Joseph Echols Lowery for a truly powerful and beautiful speech today during the inauguration. In a day full of high-points, his was perhaps the peak, at least in my eyes.

Thank you, Dr. Lowery, for an absolutely wonderful benediction.

***

God of our weary years, God of our silent tears, thou who has brought us thus far along the way, thou who has by thy might led us into the light, keep us forever in the path, we pray, lest our feet stray from the places, our God, where we met thee, lest our hearts, drunk with the wine of the world, we forget thee. Shadowed beneath thy hand may we forever stand -- true to thee, O God, and true to our native land.

We truly give thanks for the glorious experience we've shared this day. We pray now, O Lord, for your blessing upon thy servant, Barack Obama, the 44th president of these United States, his family and his administration. He has come to this high office at a low moment in the national and, indeed, the global fiscal climate. But because we know you got the whole world in your hand, we pray for not only our nation, but for the community of nations. Our faith does not shrink, though pressed by the flood of mortal ills.

For we know that, Lord, you're able and you're willing to work through faithful leadership to restore stability, mend our brokenness, heal our wounds and deliver us from the exploitation of the poor or the least of these and from favoritism toward the rich, the elite of these.

We thank you for the empowering of thy servant, our 44th president, to inspire our nation to believe that, yes, we can work together to achieve a more perfect union. And while we have sown the seeds of greed -- the wind of greed and corruption, and even as we reap the whirlwind of social and economic disruption, we seek forgiveness and we come in a spirit of unity and solidarity to commit our support to our president by our willingness to make sacrifices, to respect your creation, to turn to each other and not on each other.

And now, Lord, in the complex arena of human relations, help us to make choices on the side of love, not hate; on the side of inclusion, not exclusion; tolerance, not intolerance.

And as we leave this mountaintop, help us to hold on to the spirit of fellowship and the oneness of our family. Let us take that power back to our homes, our workplaces, our churches, our temples, our mosques, or wherever we seek your will.

Bless President Barack, First Lady Michelle. Look over our little, angelic Sasha and Malia.

We go now to walk together, children, pledging that we won't get weary in the difficult days ahead. We know you will not leave us alone, with your hands of power and your heart of love.

Help us then, now, Lord, to work for that day when nation shall not lift up sword against nation, when tanks will be beaten into tractors, when every man and every woman shall sit under his or her own vine and fig tree, and none shall be afraid; when justice will roll down like waters and righteousness as a mighty stream.

Lord, in the memory of all the saints who from their labors rest, and in the joy of a new beginning, we ask you to help us work for that day when black will not be asked to get back, when brown can stick around -- (laughter) -- when yellow will be mellow -- (laughter) -- when the red man can get ahead, man -- (laughter) -- and when white will embrace what is right.

The Last Day

I never wanted George W. Bush to fail.  I honestly never did.

I would never wish such a comprehensive failure upon any President at any point.  There's too much at stake domestically, and - especially these days - too much going on in the world for there to be too much room for error.

Yes, there are many initiatives proposed by the Bush administration that I'm glad did not come to fruition.  I'm glad that Harriet Myers is not on the Supreme Court, for instance.  I'm certainly glad that Social Security wasn't privatized (imagine the millions of seniors who would have lost literally everything they had when the stock market crashed).  But hoping that these particular things, among others, would fail to become reality because of my own morality and political conviction is much, much different from hoping that the President himself would be a failure.

I realize that, for any president, there are two serious, innate issues regarding the position:

1. Nobody can really be ready to be President on day one.  Or even year one, for that matter.  Where would one begin to learn what needs to be known?  There are so many issues one is expected to master in such a short amount of time that, even for a VP moving into the Oval Office like George H. W. Bush did after Reagan's second term, there's always going to be a learning curve. 

2. The world is a throws nothing but knuckleballs, and no matter how many contingency plans are drawn up, awful stuff happens that nobody will be prepared for or would ever "look forward" to happening.  9/11.  The current economic situation.  "Paul Blart, Mall Cop."

But how one prepares, and the willingness to accept help from those who know better and can share wisdom ... I believe that makes all the difference in the world.  And this is how George W. Bush ultimately failed.

George W. Bush failed because he was an ideologue, unwilling to listen to those with differing opinions, unwilling to bend his own opinions the slightest bit even in the face of the plain truth.  And then, when his idealogical decisions did not yield the results he expected, he lied, created alternate histories, relied on obfuscation to escape public examination, denied reality, and then went on vacation.

For instance, the way he consistently changed the reasons for the Iraq war:  first, it was to get the 9/11 terrorists.  Then, when America caught on to the fact that 9/11 was not Saddam Hussein's doing, it was because Iraq had WMD's.  When none were found, we were told that we went to war because we had to fight terrorists "there before we have to fight them here", ignoring the fact that Al Qaeda was not based in Iraq, and were not fighting from an Iraqi base until after the US decided to attack.

Or by altering scientists' reports on global warming and climate change because he didn't like what they had to say.

Or look up Major General John Batiste for more gory details.

George Bush failed by decided to simply look the other way to appease his "free market ideals" (until recently, when it was too late).  How else to explain recent complaints of corruption within the FDA?  ("In their letter the FDA dissidents alleged that agency managers use
intimidation to squelch scientific debate, leading to the approval of
medical devices whose effectiveness is questionable and which may not
be entirely safe.")

George W. Bush failed because he surrounded himself with yes-men who were either too afraid to tell him "no", or who were willing to manipulate the power they came to wield in order to gain politically, financially, or personally, rather than by using the power to help those who needed it most: the American public.

The accusations of cronyism in the Bush administration have echoed for years, and there is no need at this point to rehash the names ... the obvious, Michael Brown - head of FEMA post-Katrina - is just one of many.  But it is widely accepted that Brown was unqualified for the position to begin with, but he was a "Bushie", so he got the job.

George W. Bush failed because, frankly, he thought everything would be so much easier than it actually was, is, or ever could be.

George W. Bush failed because even as circumstances changed, he never did.

And this is but a drop in the bucket of scandal, outrage, and hackery that we've experienced as a nation over the last eight years.  Again, not worth rehashing, because what's done is done and I have already done all I can as one voice among millions:  I voted. 

I voted - very proudly - for Barack Obama.

Now, the overwhelming failure of the previous administration (a 22% approval rating doesn't happen by accident, or because of a handful of minor missteps) is being replaced by the much celebrated audacity of hope that we've heard so much about over these past few months.  I certainly have hopes of my own.

I hope that he will learn from the mistakes of the Bush administration.  I hope that the mistakes that he himself makes - and he will make mistakes, I have no doubt - are easily remedied or minimized.


I hope that President Obama lives up to the potential of President Elect Obama.

I hope that the media will finally do its job and harshly question the
President when it is appropriate to do so (which is ALWAYS).

I hope that the American public gives President Obama sufficient time to right the ship, and doesn't expect him to have everything fixed in just a few days.  It took eight years of mangling to get where we are now, and it can't all be fixed immediately. 

I hope that the Obama administration sets realistic and honest goals and time-frames to accomplish them -- none of these magical "we need six more months" (in Iraq) statements that never seemed to quite get the job finished.

I hope they don't waste time, either.

I hope that President Obama follows through on his promise to consult with the Republican minority and to give it a voice in his administration.  I hope that the Republicans accept Obama's offer to listen without becoming so cynical to think that Obama isn't really listening, and that he's only doing it to look good in the public eye.

I hope that the Republicans also realize that they were overwhelmingly voted out of office for a reason.

I hope that we head in the right direction, more than anything else.  Because despite what dudes like Ann Coulter and Sean Hannity say, I love this country.  Always have.  I just want to be proud of it again.

Tomorrow is a good first step. 

Link dump

The stuff one stumbles across ...

1. OK, so I was reading The Consumerist and came across this a about Microsoft's "Songsmith", some software of which I'd been blissfully unaware ("Microsoft Attempts to Kill Music Forever with Songsmith Commercial").

A post in the comments section led me to MeFi music, where someone had run the isolated vocal track from Van Halen's "Runnin' With the Devil" through the software.  Check out the results here, and make sure to turn your volume all the way up, even if you're at work.  It's important.  Trust me.

2. Via BoingBoing, I found this impressively incorrect (yet valiant) effort:

Star Wars: Retold (by someone who hasn't seen it) from Joe Nicolosi on Vimeo.

3. Via retrosabotage.com, Super Mario has to live with his decisions in a modified game level.

4. Via Instructables.com, how to make an amazing Atari 2600 lamp that looks like an old joystick.

5. Near and dear to my heart and my interests through the 80s, Scott Mortimer of Merrimack, N.H. is attempting to put together an entire set of 1983 Fleer Baseball Cards.  The catch?  To have each card autographed.

6. Who did that voice-over?  Find out on voicechasers.com.

Fire, Inc.

Everything gets tied together somehow, doesn't it?  In weird, subtle ways?  In ways that are unremarkable, won't change your life, and fill up a blog entry to make it seem like you've written something semi-substantial rather than just "here's a link to a video on YouTube?"  Know what I mean?

At the very least, there are moments collected through life that seem so disparate and unrelated that all the sudden seem to become one and serve as a direct bridge between your own personal interests that you start to wonder what kind of cosmic, karmic glue is holding everything together in the first place.  That "it really is a small world" kind of feeling.

Twenty-ish years ago were the days when there were only three TV networks, cable was in its relative infancy, and "Superstations" still roamed the planet.  Channel 38 in Boston was one of them and, as such, they aired a lot of feature movies and local sports events (Red Sox games with Bob Montgomery and Ned Martin, lots of Bruins games, etc.).  Most evenings they would air a movie (or two) on "The Movie Loft", hosted by Dana Hersey.  Anyone who grew up in New England in the 80s remembers his voice. 

My brother and I would stop everything we were doing if "The Warriors" came on.  A cult classic in every sense, and worthy of its own post at some point.  I think I gave my brother "Warriors"-themed Christmas gifts at least two or three times.  An old VHS tape for sure, defiinitely a poster, perhaps a t-shirt?

(If you've never seen "The Warriors", by the way, the film is 30 years old and you've had plenty of opportunities by now.  And also, shame on you.)

"The Warriors" was directed by Walter Hill, and co-starred Deborah Van Valkenburgh.  Five years later, the duo paired up again in 1984's "Streets of Fire".  I'd seen that one on the Movie Loft many, many years ago, too, but remembered little about it other than Rick Moranis was in it. 

But the music, and the soundtrack ...

I remembered a song from the soundtrack being quite the hit on WTAG, Worcester's a.m. easy listening pop station: "I Can Dream About You" by Dan Hartman.  The song was very catchy, and I remembered it because the Hartman is a white guy, and in the movie it's performed by a black doo-wop group. 

But that was it ... I had no recollection of the plot, the stars, the rest of the soundtrack ... anything, really. 

Thanks to the ability to stream Netflix movies via my XBox 360, I added "Streets of Fire" to my queue, figuring maybe I'd revisit it if the mood hit me.  Nicole beat me to the punch, seeing in my list, and asked if we could watch it the other night.

It was absurd, ridiculous, and absolutely fantastic in a way that only disposable 1980's movies can be.

So not only are Deborah Van Valkenburgh (as Reva Cody, sister of the film's "hero") and Rick Moranis in it (as Billy Fish, a music agent), so is Michael Pare (as Tom Cody, misunderstood rebel with a heart of gold).  Amy Madigan (as the singularly-named McCoy) plays almost the exact same character as Pare, except as a woman.  A very cute, very young (19 years old) Diane Lane is Ellen Aim, Cody's former love interest and current love interest of Billy Fish (her manager), and the leader of the band Ellen Aim and the Attackers, who are apparently worshipped as god-like figures in whatever the hell city this movie is supposed to take place in.

More, you say?  Willem Dafoe plays the villain, Raven Shaddock, who kidnaps Ellen Aim during a concert at the beginning of the movie, apparently just for shits and giggles.  I don't think they ever actually explain his motivations.  But if you were Shaddock, and thank your lucky stars you're not, you'd probably be ready to kidnap someone on a whim, too - having to wear latex overalls without a shirt and being surrounded by bikers whose motorcycles burst into flame with only the slightest provocation will do that to you.  Literal "Streets of Fire" in this movie throughout. 

(Not good enough?  Robert Townsend is in the doo-wop band, Richard Lawson (who was part of the paranormal research team in "Poltergeist") is a police officer in a town where EVERYONE has a shotgun, and Bill Paxton plays Clyde the Bartender, because why wouldn't he.)

The kidnapping takes place as the band plays "Nowhere Fast" - a song I didn't remember at all up until Nicole and I watched the movie the other night. 

Here's where it gets a little weird for me:  literally minutes after the song ended, the movie barely fifteen minutes in, I had to look the soundtrack up on IMDB.  "Nowhere Fast" was performed by Fire, Inc.

The lead singer of Fire, Inc.?  Laurie Sargent. 

The same Laurie Sargent I had seen countless times in concert in Boston in the earlier part of this decade with Orchestra Morphine after Mark Sandman died, then with their post-Morphine project, Twinemen. 

Some of the best shows I ever saw (and taped!) were OM and Twinemen at the Lizard Lounge in Cambridge, where I would literally sit in the front row of the tables set up around the "stage" (in reality, just an empty spot on the floor in the middle of the room) mere feet away from her microphone. 

Laurie Freakin' Sargent.  Who knew?  I wish I did, because if I knew then what I knew now (and had the song stuck in my head to nearly the point of torture - wonderful, wonderful torture), I'd have been compelled to say something to her about it.

This is an absolute gem of overlooked '80s awesomeness, and for days, I have not been able to get it out of my head. 

I downloaded an mp3 of the song and put it on my iPod, and it's all I can listen to.  Seriously.  A 24-year-old song I hadn't heard for the better part of two decades and didn't remember at all is now just about the only song I have heard for the past three or four days. 

Bring the dog out, listen to the song.  Wash the dishes, listen to the song.  Surf the internet, listen to the song.

I can't make it stop.

The Warriors -> Walter Hill -> Streets of Fire -> Fire, Inc. -> Laurie Sargent -> my ears

So here you have it, with my not-so-secret hope that maybe this gets stuck in your head, too: From the "Streets of Fire" soundtrack, "Nowhere Fast" by Laurie Sargent and Fire, Inc.

Aaron Perrino: I challenge you to dare Laurie Sargent to perform this song with you live with Dear Leader someday.  And if she says yes, make sure I know well enough in advance to be there with my minidisc recorder.

Burning and freezing. Also, anyone want a stupid dog, cheap? (Christmas '08, Part I)

We'll probably keep him, because we're suckers - and because we know that we can provide the best home for a dumbass dog such as he is, all things considered - but Joey's really been tempting us to take a trip to the hot dog factory lately.  I'm mostly just kidding (but not completely).

He survived our occasionally white-knuckle drive in the wintry mix on the way to see our families before Christmas with little difficulty (he's actually a great car dog), but once we got there all bets were off.

First, he still feels compelled to mark any "new" house, at least a little bit.  Second, he'll eat any food that he can reach (even stuff on counters), so we have to keep an eye on him constantly.  Third, he had to spend the better part of a week with his old friend/nemesis Rocky, who was kinda freaked out to see our white half-husky/half-jackass again, especially on his own home turf.  Fourth, in order to keep him calm during the day when there were so many people (and another dog) around, we had to both give him his anti-anxiety medication , Clomacalm (a life-saver if ever there was one), in the morning, and keep him on a leash in the house to make sure he didn't do anything stupid while unsupervised.

Ah ... but the devil is in the details.  (Or is it 'the best laid plans'?  Which cliche am I reaching for here?)

Nicole's mom came home from work while we were in the living room watching TV.  She came in to say hello and take her coat off, and she put an open bag (the re-usable grocery sack kind) on the floor.  On top of the pile of items in the bag was a little paper gift bag full of homemade cookies from one of her co-workers.  Not missing the opportunity, Joey (still on his leash) swooped in and grabbed it in his mouth.  Nicole managed to tear the cookies away from him, but the bag ripped and a shredded strip of paper fell to the floor between Joey's feet.  Nicole's father went to grab the debris and you can guess what happened.

Without so much as a growl or warning of any kind whatsoever, Joey chomped down on his hand and wouldn't let go until I smacked him a few times (pretty hard, with an open hand) across his backside.  The bite drew blood, which Nicole's dad ended up partially smearing across Joey's snout while trying to free himself, so it looked pretty bad when it was all over.

Joey had bitten me several months ago under different circumstances (long story short: I was trying to prevent him from choking on a bandage we'd applied to a cut he had on his leg, and he got defensive), but I thought that was just an unfortunate situation propelled by his own physical discomfort more than by any aggressive tendencies.  Turns out, he's just kind of a douchebag sometimes, I guess.  Also, there was no blood in my case.

In the end, a trip to the doctor's office the next day led to a prescription for light antibiotics but little else.  Joey's future is questionable regarding further trips to Massachusetts, to say the least.

Worthy of note, in an unfortunate kind of way, was the incredible streak of bad luck with Nicole's family as it related to hand injuries:

Days before, Nicole suffered second degree burns to her hand due to a work-related incident.  When one works in the food industry, as she does, there's an inherent risk of injury because of dangerous machinery, hot stoves and ovens, and everything that goes with using fancy-schmancy kitchen/factory equipment.  It should come as no surprise, then, to learn that her burns resulted from a freak oatmeal incident in the cafeteria.  Go figure.  Pretty nasty stuff, to be honest.  There's going to be a nice-sized scar, and her skin is slowly growning back over the pinkish strip of gross that she's currently keeping clean.

Not to be outdone, while we were visiting her family over the holidays, her mother burned her hand in a freak coffee-pot accident involving a mystery stream of scalding hot water, resulting in a nice patch of blistering skin on her wrist.  Fortunately (?), Nicole had burn cream of her own with her and was able to jump-start the healing process without the need for a doctor.  Then, the bite.  Nicole's two brothers survived somehow, and I tempted fate by not wearing gloves or keeping my hands in my pockets for the rest of the trip. 

***

The trip to Massachusetts was a mess.  The plans we'd made fell through for the most part, because of the weather and because of my family's work-schedule.  We had hoped to go to Worcester for the first half of the week to see my family, then go to Boston for the second half to see Nicole's, but the lingering cleanup from the previous week's ice storm and the threat of additional snow led us to take our chances on the slight window of opportunity we had to get out of New Jersey late on Saturday afternoon and go straight to her family's place. 

It had snowed pretty hard in New Jersey on Friday morning and afternoon, slightly harder in Massachusetts.  The forecast called for additional snow starting Sunday morning - up to ten inches, according to weather.com.  We knew that if we didn't get out on Saturday evening, by which time the roads had been pretty well plowed and salted from the previous day's storm, we'd probably have to sit out Sunday, and possibly Monday too, since everything was going to freeze over.  Since we're the only people in America without a four-wheel-drive SUV, apparently, we didn't want to risk travel on icy roads. 

We packed up and hit the road as the sun was setting, so it was dark for pretty much the entirety of the trip.  And when I say "packed up", I mean we could barely see out of the back window because of the bags full of gifts, clothes, and travel supplies.  Plus, Joey was in the back seat, which prevented us from putting bags there with him, in case he got curious and wanted to start gnawing on things.

Somewhere in New York state, past the Tappan Zee bridge, we pulled into a rest stop that apparently hadn't yet escaped the last Ice Age.  Not only were we freezing cold when we went to use the restrooms, I had to push the car from the front bumper while Nicole had the car in reverse with the pedal down because we had no traction in the snow that had built up from the snowfall the day before.  Then, when we finally got out of the parking space, I had to go to the back of the car and push while Nicole was in drive because we got stuck AGAIN.  Once we got back onto the highway we were fine, but we were questioning our decision to leave our apartment in the first place.

Then, in Connecticut, we couldn't tell if we were seeing black ice or just really wet, dark pavement.  In the right lane, cars were cautiously traveling at a snail's pace.  In the left, people were zooming by well over the speed limit.  So who knew?  All we knew was that we could barely see out of our back window, and had to be careful not only for ourselves, but for our dog.  The best moment, in retrospect, was Nicole trying to see the road more clearly, turning on the high-beams.  In a surprising development, we discovered that snow was actually falling fairly heavily, a fact we weren't aware of with just our regular beams on.  Ignorance being bliss, she said "Ohhh ... kay ..." and turned the high beams back off.  What we couldn't see couldn't hurt us.

Anyway, we finally made it to Boston a little after 10 p.m., and barely an hour after we arrived the streets were covered in at least an inch of fresh snow.  The next morning, I opened the curtains and raised the shade to reveal a sloppy wonderland that we'd barely missed along the way.  We didn't move the car again until Christmas day, which was a-ok with me.

The adventure will continue in Part II!