Chin Up!

I know why Ning's so down. Because he's the only one at this Rockumentary party! Unless he was enjoying having the place to himself, walking around in underwear, staying up late, wearing non-matching socks, the whole bit.

Well, I'm back at least. Sorry Ning, to drop in without calling first.

You know how the more time that goes by that you don't do something, the harder it is to actually do it? Like that friend I haven't called in 12 years? Or that winning scratch ticket for 3 mil that I just can't bring myself to cash?

Umm, well, I credit the high mold spore level for a) making these drab days draberererr and for b) giving the basement a weird vibe. This past weekend was the Figments show there, and I just could not feel settled in there. I also overheard someone saying the room was giving them a calustrophobic attack.
Still, it was a good night.

So, let's see...how about a list of some fave raves?

1) New REM album, Accelerate: I associate REM with summer. In high school I had an REM mix tape (82-89) which was a summer car staple. Like many people, I lost the plot about 10-12 years ago. I tried to like the singles they released, but none of them seemed classic. I was wary when reading the previews for this album, especially when Mike Mills was quotes as saying the potentially famous last words, "It feels like 1985 and it's cool to like REM again". Hmm, that's some Sagittarian optimism right there (I happen to know both he and Peter Buck share my sun sign, and yes, I too
know blind optimism. Remember my spiels before my album came out?).

The single released didn't do much for me. But I got a copy at the library, in the midst of the heatwave 3 weeks ago, and had an awesome first 2 listens, driving with the 90 degree air flying through the car. One of the best things is that the album is just over a half hour long. It comes in, makes its point, and you're at track one again before you know it.

In the last decade, REM have been both self-consciously modern and self-consciously self-referential. Sort of like the Stones. But on this album it's just good songs and having fun doing it.
Well, ok, one song's chorus IS "Seven Chinese Brothers" but to a waltz beat. And another song has a Rickenbacker guitar lick that came out of Reckoning. But still. Good album.

2) Book: The Geography of Bliss by Eric Weiner. I started reading this book on the Rosenbach trip to San Francisco, but had to return it before I finished. Now I have the audio version, so I'm finishing it that way. Eric Weiner wanted to know what made people happy (or gave them the illusion of happiness) in several different parts of the world. He admits he's a lifelong depressive, so he was truly interest in getting answers. I won't give anything away, but so far, I think I could live in Iceland (where failure is admired and more people write poetry than not) easier than Quatar (where wealth and rudeness rule).

3) Another Book: Black Postcards by Dean Wareham. Wareham was the main guy behind both Galaxie 500 (whose album "On Fire" was one of the soundtracks to my 11th grade) and Luna (who I liked much less, however, The Figments once opened for them in NYC). Now he makes music with his lady, Brita. I had no idea this book existed until it was mentioned by a friend in an email. So I requested it and just started it 2 days ago. It's great because it's a memoir of a time that was only about 5-7 years ahead of my entrance into the rock club scenes in Boston and NYC (where Galaxie 500 started out). So, lots of references that made me say "oh yeah!". Also, his overall delivery, not unlike some of Henning's or my blog entries. Going out on a limb to be honest, while knowing someone somewhere will be offended, but still. Any negativity is taken to be honest opinion without any sort of agenda. Also there's the wide eyed remembrances of meeting Peter Hook from New Order, or Lou Reed for the first time. I'm at the part now where he just broke up Galaxie 500 as they were becoming more and more popular. And Luna is being called whimpy, because it was that horrible time when men in shorts with muscles and loud voices were suddenly, somehow, alternative. And skinny men with nasal voices and incisive lyrics were marked down to $5.99. But who's laughing now, huh, Ning? Ha! ha...ugh. (By the way, short, uptight Jew-fro'd guys, unless your last name is Reed or Dylan, have never been popular).

4) Movie: Control. Bourgeois Jason lent me this biopic of Ian Curtis, the late singer and lyric writer in the classic, short lived band from Manchester, England, Joy Division, who hung himself at the age of 23, the night before they were to leave to begin their first US tour.
Though JD were among my faves between the ages of 17-21, I've not listened to them so much since. They have abour 25 songs on my iPod, but so rarely am I in the mood to listen to them when they pop up.
But this film reminded me how friggin good they were. Each time a song started up, I was transported back in time and remembered every word and note. Much like, say The Wall by Pink Floyd, JD are a band that's probably difficult to get into past a certain age. Because it radiates fresh existential angst. It's not jaded, it's experiencing crisis fo rthe first time and wondering "is this what I signed up for?". And you either grow a second skin and carry on, or you go like Ian. His plight was that fame was starting to happen just as his late-onset epilepsy was becoming worse, the meds he was put on presented a whole other set of problems, and the realization that his teenage marriage was a bad mistake. He probably wasn't meant to have to deal with so much stuff. he was probably meant to live in Manchester, writing poetry out of the limelight.

She's Lost Control

In this clip, from '79 (he died in 80), you can see how Joy Division really helped invent a sound that didn't really become popular 'til years later, and how Ian's dancing style really is how all the late 80's ravers were doing it, mixed with a spazziness that some felt was supposed to evoke an epileptic fit, but I feel it's just that he felt the music so much and was completely unselfconscious about it.

Lastly, the movie reminded me of a singer friend I haven't called in 12 years, who was the closest thing to Ian Curtis I'll ever meet. But as I said at the start, it gets harder to go about seeking him out with each passing year. Sigh.

Ok, now I'm not really making much sense anymore so I'll post this thing.



Well, ok...there's my entertainment report. Happy summah.