8.25.2008

caring is creepy

recap of the last 6 months or so: i'm playing music, starting a band, going to rad shows, smoking weed, eating vegetarian, and all while i still manage to keep my day job at amoeba. don't hate me 'cos i have a life and am too busy hangin' out at shows like the jesus and mary chain, melvins, duke spirit, gang of four or health. or 'cos i get to hang out and meet rad people like johnny greenwood and tony hawk. mmmhhhmm

i got tickets to go see my bloody valentine this october. i'm about as psyched as it gets. aaaaannnnddddd, we're gonna go see nick cave/spiritualized/cat power at the hollywood bowl in a couple of weeks... STOKED!

speaking of amazing killer jams, i got my face melted off with some serious heavy doom drone experimental stoner rock with boris at the echoplex on august 3. seriously killer. earlier this year, i had the fortune of gettin' paid to take pictures of 'em at their special after-hours in store performance at amoeba berkeley in june. that show was the start of their US leg of the tour; the skull crushing stoner jams and distorted billowy drone blended together seamlessly in a gaussian blur unparalleled by any other band. just one look at their pedal board is enough to get any gear-head's dick hard.



got an hour? fuck, man. spend it watching this:




...dude.

stoner metal got it's first real kick in the nutsack in the desert, though, with generator shows. those dudes in kyuss would get AMPED and play for 17+ hours in the middle of NOWHERE for a bunch of desert rats who were all about getting FUCKED UP. awesome...



like josh homme said, "if ya weren't there, well... ya weren't." unfortunately, i wasn't counted among the lucky few that got to experience that kind of insane mind blowing rock. prolly 'cos i was like, 5, and eating fruit loops and drinking apple juice outta my sippy cup. so? wanna fight?

anyone wanna buy me a ticket to go see dylan play in santa barbara on september 7th? pleaaaaase? i'm so broke from buying gear that i can't even afford to buy a new pair of chuck taylors and my old ones are literally falling off. i don't care 'bout the soles on my shoes, though, just another chance at seeing dylan deliver his stories to an audience as diverse as his career catalog. at the very least, his new bootleg boxset "tell tale signs" that's coming out october 7 is enough to keep me satiated for a little bit. it's the eighth volume in the bootleg series that features rare cuts and unreleased demos from 1989 through 2006.

recently, i've been delving into the depths of rock 'n' roll, trying my hand at the whole "band" thing. given me a sort of drive to hope for better than just helping hipsters find neutral milk hotel albums on vinyl and crackheads who want donna summers cassette tapes. i love my job, for sure, 'cos i get to take rad pictures and listen to cool music all day, but having to deal with my latent control issues makes me wanna do something where i get to call the shots. 'cept in a band, that's not really the case 'cos we're all doing that. and yeah. money, schedules, equipment and creative issues occur ALL THE FUCKING TIME. we're trying to document the process on video and in pictures, and take advantage of the youtube phenomenon so everyone can watch as we flounder around on deranged synths and anti-climactic lead guitar parts. which then turn into petty squabbling and passive aggressive attitudes amidst frustrated kids just trying to get what we've got in our heads out on tape. YEAH! SHIT IS HARD.

last saturday, i went to the natasha shneider benefit show at the henry fonda. are you kidding? qotsa? pj harvey? jesse hughes? tenacious d? i was stoked, 'cos that's right down the street from where i live in hollywood, so i got fucked up ala "feel good hit of the summer" style before heading down without having to worry about the fuzz killin' my buzz. i knew the evening was gonna be laced with somber moments, but i wasn't prepared for the intense emotional outpour that came from every musician that graced the stage. i almost can't even put into words what it was like seeing pj harvey belt out some of my personal favorites from the desert sessions with queens of the stone age, the unofficially undisputed champs of rock 'n' roll. needless to say, it was one of the best shows i've ever experienced, and, like natasha shneider, won't soon be forgotten.

as seems to be the case when i update here, i'm going through some weird crazy shit right now. being grounded by dylan is always a huge comfort, but lately i've been listening to oasis, too. more specifically their sophomore album "(what's the story) morning glory." i've always loved and listened to them, but the time has now come where their music is starting to affect me. it's rad to be forging connections within the words and walls of sound. i've always been a "layers" kinda kid, really delving deep into a record and listening for all the subtle nuances that bleed through the more prominently featured leads. basically, i guess that means i value the production, and let's face it, oasis are fuckin' masters at it. it's those moments of lucidity where i really connect with something musically that makes all this shit worth it. my point? GET INTO IT. the truth is you gotta go back to go forward. if you can find out where you're coming from, you'll figure out where you're supposed to be.

cast no shadow - oasis (acoustic performance with noel doin' vocals, live on msn):



...

goddamnit, metallica, please release a good album this time around. i'm really sick of disappointment from you fuckers. st. anger sucked st. nuts. little less fisting each other one-off style, and a little more pissing each other off, yeah? thanks. even dave grohl's got your back on this one. i think nine inch nails is taking a leaf out of metallica's book, though, 'cos they used to SLAY it back in the day, but now, for the umpteenth time this year, they've released an album that no one really cares about. i don't know why people are always up on a high horse regarding sobriety, since some of the best shit i've ever heard comes from destructive substance abuse and chaos.

oh, and in case you are fucking blind and couldn't already tell just by lookin' at the guy, henry rollins will kick your ass:



spacemen 3 are wrapping me up in this song right now, so i'm gonna go burn a j and fuckin' get into it, bro. i swear. i'm gonna post more. ahhh, say it ain't so...