Bootleg Country: Paul Simon – Harare, Zimbabwe (02/14/87)

When I was an early teen, say 14, I got a little compact stereo for Christmas. It has a radio, a tape deck and a record player. As my parent’s record player had died many years prior I was very interested in this little device.

My mother, ever the child of the sixties, had an astounding record collection of great early rock and roll (I am sad to say it has since been lost in a flood.) The Beatles, Dylan, the Rolling Stones, Sonny and Cher, the Rascals, Beach Boys, Loving’ Spoonful, you name it if it was a hit in the 1960s she probably had it on vinyl.

This was also the point in my life when I began to take music seriously. Certainly, I had enjoyed music prior to this. I used to tape Casey Kasem’s Top 40 show every week as well as the local stations’ nightly top 10 requests. But I would often record over those tapes with whatever songs were new and popular. Music was something fluffy and fun, like candy that was to be enjoyed and discarded afterward.

Now with all of this great music at my fingertips, I began to really understand the depth and reach of what music could really be. For the first time, I began to really digest the poetry of Dylan, the guttural sex of the Stones, and the sheer brilliance of the Beatles. This was more than just throw-away pop music, it was important.

I spent many hours sitting inside my room, lying flat on my back in my bed devouring this new music. Most of these songs I had heard previously. Mother listened to Oldies radio and so much of what I was now listening to wasn’t new at all. I had heard all of Bob Dylan’s greatest hits separately many times over the years. Yet, as odd as it may sound, I had never put together that they were all his.

As much as I might now scoff at Greatest Hits albums, the 10 songs put together on Dylan’s version were life-changing to this little boy. I couldn’t believe one person had sung so much greatness.

It was Dylan and Simon and Garfunkel that made the biggest impression on me. Something about the sheer force of their songwriting knocked the breath out of me.

To this day I can remember listening to the “Boxer” late one night. As I had done many times before I turned off the lights and set the volume down low so as to allow the music to lull me asleep. Except I couldn’t sleep because my mind kept listening. I couldn’t stop, the song was too forceful to allow such a thing as sleep. The music, as it has done many a time since, kept me awake and begging for more.

02/14/87
Rutfaro Stadium
Harare, Zimbabwe

When I first started dating the girl who was to become my wife I gave her three CDs as a means to share my musical obsession. They weren’t necessarily my all-time favorite CDs, though they would certainly be high on the list, but albums I thought she would never have heard and that would shed some light into music that moved me.

Those albums were Willie Nelson’s Stardust, Nanci Griffith’s One Fair Summer Evening, and Paul Simon’s Graceland.

Graceland is an album of sheer joy to me. It is filled with great pop songcraft as well as a myriad of astounding vocals and rhythms from South Africa. It also helped bring about Americans listening to “World Music”.

This show is a song-by-song recreation of the album complete with a cacophony of South African musicians who provide their own myriad of sounds.

In fact, it is the African performances that make the bootleg worth listening to. Simon certainly performs with adequacy, but there is nothing here that really outshines the album. Part of the problem is that he only plays songs from Graceland. To be a really great performance, to me, you need to play songs spanning your entire career, not just one album.

Maybe Simon wanted to highlight only his newest album. Perhaps he wanted to showcase the African musicians and singers for the entire show. It seems to me this could have been done better by arranging a few older songs to include the singers. I can imagine an absolutely astounding African vocal arrangement of “April Come She Will” and a mesmerizing “50 Ways to Leave Your Lover.” But for whatever reason, we don’t get any of that, just Graceland and several what I can only guess are African originals.

It is there that the disks shine. The South African performers create sounds with their voices and instruments that are out of this world (or at least out of this part of the world). It is mystifying.

Unfortunately, the mix of Simon and the South Africans is a little underwhelming. I have heard marvelous things about this tour, and I suspect had I been in the audience I would be saying similar marvelous things, but to these ears, the tape doesn’t hold up to the hype.

It is hard to point at anything particularly wrong with this set, but when I think of Paul Simon performing Graceland live in South Africa with performers from the area I get all goose pimply and when I listen to the disks, I keep waiting for something more.

It is a good set, with good music. It’s just that when compared to say the Grateful Dead circa 1977 or Dylan in the 60’s or Bela Fleck in any year, this set just doesn’t have that same magic.

Random Shuffle (09/11/06): Barenaked Ladies, Bruce Broughton, Alison Krauss, Everything But the Girl, & Eric Von Schmidt

“Brian Wilson” – The Barenaked Ladies
from Rock Spectacle

I’m a total sucker for pop culture references. Perhaps this is because I am not only a pop culture junkie, but often make references myself in everyday conversation. I suppose when artists make similar references it makes me feel like they are one of us, or rather more pertinently, I am like them. Perhaps I could be a cool rock star, or writer pleasing fans by adding in subtle references to pop culture.

Whatever the reason for my love, when I heard the Barenaked Ladies break-out hit “One Week” I immediately adored it. The fast-paced, rat-a-tat-tat references filled me with glee. Add to that a reference to Kurasawa and I was sold.

I didn’t actually buy the album the song was on but rather an album filled with their “hits” played live. It was here I formed the opinion that they are decent songwriters with a tendency to get overly sentimental and have some of the worst rhymes in pop music. And tend to rely too heavily on jokes rather than true songwriting.

“Brian Wilson” is one of their better numbers with a sly reference to the Beach Boys’ nervous breakdown. I can even forgive the drooling joke because it references Pavlov in a way that borders on genius. Yet again when you hit the chorus the music moves into juvenile playing. It is nothing more than some adequate players speeding it up. It’s like they hit rock star mode and know nothing more than to play faster without actually having any chops.

The album is like that. There are a handful of great songs that make me laugh and feel BNL could be a great freaking band, but then they slip into full obnoxious teenage writing. Oh well, we’ll always have “If I Had a $1,000,000”

“Theme to Silverado” – Bruce Broughton
from the Original Soundtrack

I’m periodically a total sucker for rousing movie scores. Sometimes I like to pretend that I am a classical music buff, but in all honesty, though I do enjoy some of the bigger pieces, I mostly relegate that stuff to background music. Though not classical music in any sense other than the lack of singers, movie scores seem stuck in the same genre to me.

Perhaps they are more rousing, or maybe because they are attached to images and words that I adore, they seem to take up more space in my musical collection.

Silverado is a very decent movie that tried to reinvent the western genre and serves more as a winking tribute to old-style westerns. The score is mostly forgettable but the main theme has a nice bit of oomph to it that perks up my lips most of the time.

“Oh Atlanta” – Alison Krauss and Union Station
from 06/24/01

Alison Krauss has a great country/bluegrass voice. It is a perky, beautiful thing. The Union Station likewise are all superior musicians. Sadly, I tend to like very few of their songs. There are just a few that make anything memorable or enjoyable after they are heard.

“Oh Atlanta” is one of the few. Maybe it is because I love the south, or that my wife is from Georgia but I’ve never met a song about the state I didn’t love. It helps that Krauss sings it with verve and that the lyrics involve coming back to Georgia, and that is a longing I understand.

I grew up in Oklahoma but spent four years getting a college degree in Alabama and I consider myself an adopted son of the South. I don’t think I could ever explain the feeling to someone who has never loved the South, but there is just something intoxicating about the land. The people seem nicer there, the tea sweeter, and the air filled with more life.

I hope to move back there someday, and I think I’ll play this song on my way.

“Love is Strange” – Everything But the Girl
from Spin Sampler

When I was in high school I subscribed to Spin magazine which I considered to be far superior to Rolling Stone. In those days, before Guccione Jr sold the rag, it was. It had a focus on “alternative” music which of course, at the time in the early 90s was all the rage. Like that music it made me feel like I was onto something different, something only a few understood. Never mind that millions of people bought Nirvana and Pearl Jam albums, the whole scene felt like it was for the few, the cool, and I wanted to be like that.

For subscribing, I received a sampler disk filled with all the hip alterna-songs of the moment.

Though I sported the long hair and the grungy flannel and the black t-shirts with Soundgarden and Dinosaur Jr on them, I was still a closet fan of the soft, acoustic love songs.

Don’t tell anybody.

This is a cover of the Dolly Parton number. It’s played with less danceability, but there is a softness to it that I find lilting. They repeat the lyrics twice, the second verse having a little “oh-whoa” rave-up between each line.

I was always fond of the lyrics “You’re sweet loving is better than a kiss/when you leave those kisses I will miss.” This seems to say that love is more than a physical attraction, and yet physical attraction is very much a component of romance. As a geeky teenager who had never had as much as a kiss, those words spoke to me.

I still love that song. I put it on a comp for my wife and we played it during the reception of our wedding.

“Wasn’t That a Mighty Storm” – Eric Von Schmidt
Troubadours Of The Folk Era, Volume One

I first heard this song on Nanci Griffith’s album Other Voices, Too in which she plays a very upbeat version with a who’s who of country/folk musicians. It is a great version that almost makes you forget the lyrics are about an awful, destructive, deadly storm.

This is the original (?) version and here it is much more of a dirge. Von Schmidt plays the guitar with a kind of deep, dark feel like it is the sea wall approaching. His voice adds menace to the song.

I dig the folk tradition of making songs out of tragedies. Horrible things happen and we make songs to sing around the campfire to it.

The Death of Mr. Lazarescu (2005)

the death of mr lazarescu poster

Poor Mr. Lazarescu, his wife has left him, his daughter has moved across the ocean to Canada, and his sister and brother-in-law lecture him about the money he has borrowed. He’s been having massive headaches and throwing up since morning, and the ambulance never seems to come.

And everybody chastises him for the drink.

The Death of Mr. Lazarescu is billed as a comedy, but if it is such then it is so black that I couldn’t see it. Really it is just sad, very sad, possibly the saddest movie I have ever seen.

The movie starts with Lazarescu (Ion Fiscuteanu) calling for an ambulance. We then see him call his sister, who promptly, along with her husband, yells at Lazarescu for drinking too much and asking for the return of the money he has borrowed.

Then he waits and waits for the ambulance. Eventually, he finds his way into the hall, knocking on the door of the neighbors requesting medicine.

He is chastised for the drink.

The neighbors have mercy and nurse him to the couch where he pukes up blood. They call the ambulance again and note its more serious nature. When the nurse, Mioara Avram (Luminita Gheorghiu), arrives she finds Lazarescu in the tub, where he has fallen. She takes his vitals and tries to determine what is wrong with him.

And yells at him for the drink.

They take him to the hospital, where the doctor is extremely rude.

He chastises Lazarescu for the drink. He abuses the hospital staff, Mioara, and Lazarescu mercilessly. There is no bedside manner. Lazarescu is completely belittled for not taking care of himself properly, for the drink, for everything. The diagnosis is that it is liver failure due to the drink and tests are ordered from another hospital.

Lazarescu is abumulanced to hospital number two.

He is chastised for the drink.

The doctors there are much kinder and run a series of tests which result in serious complications for Lazarescu. Because of a bus accident, this hospital is completely full and unable to perform the immediate surgery needed to keep Lazarescu alive.

He is taken to a third hospital.

He is chastised for the drink.

The staff here is worse than the staff at hospital number one. Mioara tries to explain the urgency of the situation, but the doctors want to reexamine Lazarescu and spend most of their time arguing with Mioara. They then refuse to operate because a now near comatose Lazarescu doesn’t understand he needs to sign the release forms.

He is taken to a fourth hospital.

They do not chastise him for the drink and get him ready for surgery.

It is nothing short of heartbreaking.

It is shot in a documentary style. It uses natural light and lots of handheld cameras giving the film a very realistic feel.

Though it is a Romanian film, it asks plenty of questions about the state of healthcare systems around the world. It is a film that physically angers me. When doctors are more concerned about being sued and filing the proper paperwork than about caring for the ill what has gone wrong with the world?

Even the nice doctors and nurses look haggard. Long hours and extra work due to the bus accident leave them all exhausted. I’ve never thought about tired doctors, but it makes sense, they work long, hard hours and should be exhausted by the end of their shift. The healthcare workers also spend their downtime between tests and examinations chatting about personal things as if they weren’t involved in matters of life and death. It is an intimate look into the chaos, madness, and complications of caring for people.

It is a difficult film to watch. The pacing is languid and the subject matter is dark. Despite being a “comedy” there are few if any light-hearted moments. At a 153 minutes it is a large dose to swallow. Yet it is an important look at healthcare, loneliness, growing old, and how we take care of our fellow man. One that shouldn’t be missed.

Random Shuffle (09/05/06) – Billy Bragg, Merle Haggard, The Muppets, The Wallflowers & Warren Zevon

Originally posted on September 05, 2006

“New England” – Billy Bragg
From 10-14-96

Billy Bragg is an old-school folkie who wears his politics on his sleeve. He often allows his political ideas to take over his music and his songs come out like platforms rather than carrying a tune. But when he nails it he creates a wonderful collaboration between ideas and killer folkiness.

This is a great example of his cleverness. In its original form, it’s a bit of a break-up song by way of a single guy looking for fun and not love. Live, and many years after it was originally written, he has changed many of the lyrics to reflect his own life now. Having settled down with a girl and a son, lines about singlehood have morphed into lines about fatherhood. It’s all in good fun, and the audience gets a kick out of it and sings out the final chorus.

Good stuff.

“Theme From Dukes of Hazzard” – Merle Haggard
From Ladies Love Outlaws

As a kid, my mother would never let me watch the Dukes of Hazzard on TV. She was concerned that it depicted cops as being bumbling crooks and ex-convicts as the good guys. This, it seems, would have corrupted my own morals. Fair enough, Mom, but I often slipped over to the neighbors and watched it.

The theme song remains a classic. It always reminds me of a guy named Adam who would play this song over and over in college, right along with anything Lynard Skynard.

“Moving Right Along” – The Muppets
From the Muppet Movie

I went to see Muppets from Space with a carload of friends in a little, tiny, dinky theatre in Prattville, Alabama. It had originally been a one-screen theatre and they cut it in half to create two screens. The door into the theatre was one of those swinging bar things and the hinges made obnoxious screeching noises when they swung.

Worst movie experience ever.

Except that I sat by Julie Austin, whom I had the biggest crush on. Nothing came of it, she married Mr. Knapp and I moved to Texas.

That has nothing to do with the wonderful first Muppet Movie or this song from it, but that’s what I always think of when I think of Muppets.

This is a great little song that’s full of humor and grace, much like the Muppets themselves.

“I’m Looking Through You” – the Wallflowers
From the I Am Sam soundtrack

The idea of filling a soundtrack with covers of Beatles songs sounds like a good one to me. On the I Am Sam disk it works about half the time. Some of the covers are just too close to the original to make any impression, others try to reinvent the psychedelic madness of their later albums but just don’t get it. The Wallflowers manage to do very little new with the song, but it still comes out all right.

They’ve pepped it up a little, and Jakob Dylan’s vocals have enough of a rock edge to make it interesting. It is really a testament to the power of the Beatles song than anything. I wouldn’t exchange this for the original, but it’s fun and something slightly different, and sometimes that’s alright too.

“Werewolves of London” – Warren Zevon
From Excitable Boy

I have to admit that I don’t actually own this album, but I did download the single. I also have to admit this is the only Zevon song I know. They say he was a good guy who wrote great songs, and I’m sorry I don’t know him better.

This is a great freaking song. I always wonder if it has anything to do with the movie and I’m always too lazy to look it up. I love the light-hearted feel, and the great sing-along quality to lyrics about a murderous rampage. It makes me think of Teen Wolf too (Not Teen Wolf Too) with Michael J Fox as a cool werewolf.

29 Palms (2002)

29 palms

About 3/4ths of the way through 29 Palms an inept security guard (Jon Polito) says, “Nobody thought I’d do that, did they?” In a way, this line could sum up the entire plot structure of the film, for it seems the filmmakers want nothing more than to surprise the viewer at every turn. They seem to be wearing a smirking smile knowing they are coming up with something different, something no one would expect. Yet, in spite of all the twists, turns, and quirkiness, it all feels like something I’ve seen before.

It is as if, while attending film school all of the filmmakers heard over and over again to avoid clichés and then skipped class the day originality was discussed. As if the avoidance of redundancy is all that it takes to be interesting.

To say something nice, it is filled with lots of great character actors like Michael Lerner, Michael Rapaport, and Jeremy Davies and they do manage to rise above the lackluster material.

Barely.

Davies plays an unnamed drifter who starts the film as a clerk for a corrupt judge (Michael Lerner) and may or may not be an FBI agent. The judge is about to make an important decision on whether or not an Indian Casino can expand. The judge hips the Native Americans onto the drifter and they promptly kill his girlfriend. A hired killer (Chris O’Donnell) is turned loose to do the same to the drifter.

The killer contract includes a bag of money and a severed hand (which is apparently from an enemy of the Native Americans and is to be used to frame someone, but it’s all fairly vague and unclear.)

The inept security guard steals the bag which is in turn stolen by a corrupt cop (Michael Rapaport) and then again stolen by the drifter (who somehow knows about the bag, though this too is also vague and unclear).

The remainder of the film centers on all of these characters (and more!) trying to get their hands on the bag. There are quite a few plot turns and the characters are all quirky and indie-friendly, but honestly, by the midpoint I stopped caring enough to write it all down.

If the filmmakers had stopped trying to make everything so original and quirky for a second and worked on their stories, and maybe developed a couple of their oddball characters, it might have worked. But instead, we get a film that may be “different” but it never makes me interested enough to care.

Road Trip to New Orleans

Originally written September 2006.

“Guess what, Sebadoh is playing New Orleans tonight and Birmingham tomorrow night.” My girlfriend at the time, Tara exclaimed.

“Oh man!” I replied, “But we can’t see them, can we? What with the final dress rehearsal tonight and our first performance tomorrow. Well, I could maybe go tonight. I mean I’m not actually in the play, the set is totally finished, and my only other tasks are putting on your old-age makeup and doing a few minor set changes. Someone else could probably pick that up for me.”

“If you’re going, then I’m going too. It’s not like I don’t know my lines or anything. I’ve got my little role down pat. They won’t even miss me. Do you think Stephen will be mad?”

“Yeah, but he’ll get over it. What can he do, fire you?”

And with that Tara and I were off to find a way to New Orleans. We had a few minor obstacles to tackle: We didn’t know exactly where or when the band was playing. Then there was a little business about not having a car. It’s a 300-odd-mile journey from Montgomery to New Orleans and we had to be there within a few hours.

We decided to impose upon our friend, and fellow Sebadoh fan, Devon. Maybe he could get some info and a ride. He was duly excited by the news but had no information and was also automobile-less.

This was all pre-internet, or at least pre-internet for myself and the university, mind you so we couldn’t do any fancy Googling to gather venue information and direction.

We decided to hunt down Michelle, a student originally from New Orleans hoping she might have a phone book, or at least friends she might obtain information from. She had nothing but did add that everybody who is anybody plays Tipitinas when they play New Orleans.

In several hours we had managed to pick up an extra person, but had no transportation, no time or directions, and only a vague possibility of a venue.

We found our other New Orleans native and drilled her for information. She was even more clueless than Michelle. She did, however, have a phone card (for there was no long-distance plan on campus) and thusly dialed her friend who looked up the number for Tipitinas. Dialed again and confirmed the night’s show.

Bingo, we had a venue. Some quickly jotted down directions and we were on our way.

Well on our way without a way to get there.

We leaned on our friend Green Day (thusly dubbed for his fandom of the band and our lack of knowledge of his real name) who amazingly agreed to go though he had never heard of the band and would have to work the next day.

Wandering the streets of New Orleans after dark with only a vague idea of where you’re going is an interesting experience. From what I could tell it was a beautiful city filled with tree-lined streets and a pulsating vibe even miles from any real scene.

A cabbie honked and hollered out his window to us in greeting. He yelled to us that he was a member of the church of Christ. An odd proclamation to make in the middle of the night down a busy city street, or so we thought until we realized that Green Day had a “The Churches of Christ Salute You” bumper sticker riding the tail of his car.

I remember very little about the actual show. We arrived late, and my inexperienced little body cringed as Tipitinas seemed more like a dive bar than a hip music club. Devon brought along a little mini office recorder and dubbed the show for his later listening pleasure.

We made it to Tipitina’s a little late. Sebadoh was already performing. We pushed our way up close as Devon got out his little mini-recorder and newsman-style made announcements while he then proceeded to record the entire show.

Afterwards, we hung out on the side of the venue, near a van that surely must be the bands for an hour or so hoping to see Lou Barlow and the rest of the boys. We dreamed of hitting it off and going someplace for coffee, waffles, and good times.

When the band did come out Tara managed to say something cheeky like “great show” while I stood in the back smiling like a fanboy too nervous to actually talk.

Green Day decided he was too exhausted to drive home and I volunteered to make the trip. Before conking out it was explained that the speedometer was broken and that I should let the RPMs be my guide.

Somehow I managed to make it back to Montgomery, though I didn’t know the way, and had to wake Devon up for directions back to school.

I finally hit the bed well into the day’s morning light. The director gave us a right ribbing for missing dress rehearsal and threatened to kick us out of the show, but in the end, all was forgiven.

We didn’t see Mardi Gras, nor sample the excellent cuisine, nor take any of the sights and sounds of the Big Easy. But we heard its call just the same and took a mad dash trip through the wee hours and made it back with a great story to tell.

I hope the city will do the same for someone again, someday.

Bootleg Country: Gillian Welch – Grand Rapids, MI (09/17/03)

I have a long history of not going to a concert and then regretting it for years to come. The reasons for not going usually involve not having anyone to go with/not wanting to go alone, and not being familiar enough with the artist to convince me that the show is a must-see.

That and I’m a cheap bastard.

A few months down the road I usually become more familiar with the artist and begin cursing myself for not seeing them. This happens often in the city where I currently live. It is a college town and large enough to nab artists just before they hit the big time, but too small, and too close to Indianapolis to carry them after that. So usually it is once missed, never see again.

Gillian Welch came to town a few years back and I thought about seeing her. I liked the few songs I had heard of hers, but the voice in the back of my head got to nagging me – you don’t know her songs, you won’t be able to sing along, you should be saving your hard-earned dough – and I didn’t go.

Oh, how I have cursed my ever-loving name for that. How I’ve yearned for her to come back to no avail.

09/17/03
Calvin College
Grand Rapids, MI

Quite simply, Gillian Welch’s voice is nothing short of heavenly.

If there really are angels, and they really do sing, then they must sound like Gillian Welch.

She has some of the most haunting, achingly beautiful songs ever sung. I am reminded of Alison Krauss in that the two have similarly beautiful voices, yet where Alison’s choice of songs often makes no impression on me, Gillian’s own songs and her choice of covers are perfect for her style and often get stuck in my head for days on end. I have been singing “Look at Miss Ohio” for a week now.

This show starts with a triple play of my favorite Gillian Welch songs. “Look at Miss Ohio” starts off the show and it often gets a repeat play around these parts. It is followed by “Elvis Presley Blues” which is the first Gillian Welch song I ever knew, and remains one of my favorites. It speaks of nostalgia, the deep mysterious ache of loss, and the magic of music. It is a perfect song and Gillian Welch sings it like it’s the only song in the world.

My holy trinity is concluded with “Rock of Ages” which is one of Gillian Welch’s rocking-out songs, and by that I mean it has a tempo other than a slow dirge.

Before I go any further, I really must mention David Rawlings, Gillian’s musical partner for many years. David often gets overlooked in writings about Gillian but is very much an important player in her musicality. On stage, he sings harmony and plays guitar, and gives the music a layered and more dense quality.

She follows her trio of excellence with an entire show of great music. It is a show that reaches spiritual proportions. The music is so soft and warm and kind it wraps around me like a blanket near a fire while the cold wind and rain whip about outside.

This is an audience recording and as such we hear the crowd scream and shout between songs at a louder volume than preferable. However, they do keep quiet during the song performances allowing the music to filter in untouched and unmarred.

My only complaint is that the show runs just a tad long. While the music is always beautiful, Gillian’s penchant for playing slow, sad songs starts to be too much by the middle of the second disk. I find myself fully ready for it to be over a few songs before it actually is. I suspect as an audience member I would have begged for more, but as it is, on CD I’m ready for the closure.

It is a great disk by a overlooked performer, whose music really matters. In a world full of dizzying pop songs, flashy lights, and fast-edited videos, Gillian Welch seems more of the past, like some ancient hieroglyph pulled from the very dust of America. It is old, real music that should last another millennium.

Join The ACPO

Originally posted on September 01, 2006. I had forgotten all about this silly bit of nonsense until just now 🙂 Sadly, you can no longer buy a bumper sticker or join Frapr (whatever that was.)

This is probably a little more information than any of you will want about me, but that’s what you get for allowing me to post anything I want.

My first couple of years in college I lived in a dormitory on the outskirts of campus. It was set up motel style, with the room doors each leading directly outside. My room was on the backside of the dorm which opened up to a big, grassy field.

Being boys, for reasons I can’t quite remember (other then being boys) me and a bunch of pals would often go into the field and urinate. In fact we did it often enough that we developed a little philosophy about the whole thing. In our prime we got political and ecological about it deciding that it was a waste of energy and water to urinate in a toilet. Sometimes we even got religious determining that man should pee amongst God’s creatures and not in some cramped, smelly, room.

Eventually we formed a club, The American Coalition for Peeing Outside. To this day my college buddies in I will get together periodically and espouse the glories of outdoor urination, and take a celebratory pee.

My dear friend Jamison, had taken the pee to heart and even created bumper stickers and a frapr page.

So I urge you dear brethren, throw off the shackles of indoor urination. Remove thyself from the tyranny of the toilet, and pee outside. Join the ACPO, buy a bumper sticker, sign up on Frapr, and for gawd’s sake, pee outside.

Night Watch (2004)

night watch poster

“One side is in Russian, the other side is in English,” the girl behind the counter noted about the DVD I was renting. “So if you play it and it is in Russian, just turn it over,” she continued. I wanted to glare at her and snidely question her about her movie appreciation skills. Shouldn’t girls, who work in the movie industry, freaking appreciate films as God intended them? But I’ve had that argument one too many times. If Blockbuster wanted their employees to have a clue, I guess they’d pay them more.

Night Watch lives in the same world that we do, but in a different kind of dimension if you get my meaning. It is a dimension filled with vampires, shapeshifters, and seers. They live alongside humans, but secretly without being understood by the likes of you or me.

These creatures, or Others as they are called, were once engaged in a brutal war, but being evenly matched signed a truce many years ago. Much like in our own Cold War, the Others have set up watchmen for both the light and dark sides to ensure each side keeps up with their side of the truce. Part of this bargain is that when new others are formed; neither side will interfere with them until they have chosen a side. For the Others are actually born of human seed, and do not know they are different until something extreme occurs and their powers come out.

Our movie lies in a time in which a cursed virgin proclaims the nearing Armageddon, and a chosen child will throw the balance of good and evil to one side.

The film sets up its universe and mythology extremely well. In a prologue, Lord of the Rings style, we learn about the others and the war and the truce, it is just enough to allow us to gain understanding without bogging down in the mythos. As the story unfolds we gain a better understanding of the rules and still feel that there is a deeper story. That it is based on a series of books only adds to that mythos.

Visually the story lives in a Fight Club world where digital animation moves alongside live action. There are lots of extreme close-ups of machinery and metro tubes that transition smoothly into the real.

I’m not sure if the subtitles were created by the filmmakers or were a later addition, but they become a part of the film. Sometimes they are swatted away by a character, zoom out like the cars on a highway, or are underlined for emphasis becoming more like characters than simple translations.

The characters are well developed and often give hints at deeper backgrounds, which again, may come from their literary counterparts. Sometimes the main character is treated like more of an officer in the others than he actually seems to be, all to move the story along.

It is a slick, MTV generation movie. A glossy popcorn piece of cinema with a cool mythology, and some killer visuals. It is not great cinema, but a darn fine piece of science-fiction/horror.

While watching it I kept thinking there was great material for a sequel or sequels. Turns out it is the first part of a trilogy, the second of which is already playing in Russia. I’ll be keeping an eye out, for sure.

Random Shuffle – Emmylou Harris, Lucinda Williams, Pat Carrell, & Sam More with Conway Twitty

Originally written on August 31, 2006.

“Car Wheels on a Gravel Road” – Lucinda Williams
From Car Wheels on a Gravel Road

Lucinda has a voice that is country, earthy, sad, and beautiful all at the same time. She writes lonely songs about country roads, failed love, and all the pain and hurt that make up a life. Car Wheels on a Gravel Road, the album, is about as perfect as an album can be. There simply isn’t a bad song on it.

The song is just exactly the kind of song I love. It has jangly guitars, a nice little rhythm section to it, it is country without being too country, it rocks without really being rock, and it has a great sing-along little chorus.

If it was socially acceptable, if my wife wouldn’t kill me, and my God wouldn’t damn me, I’d ask Lucinda Williams to be my mistress and ask her to sing this song to me.

“Real Live Bleeding Fingers and Broken Guitar Strings” – Lucinda Williams
From 05/16/03

Originally this is off of Lucinda’s World Without Tears album, an album I have never found myself getting into all that much. There are some good songs there for sure, but overall it never really catches me, not like Car Wheels anyway.

Upon listening to this live version I may have to reconsider the whole album again. The bootleg itself is exceptionally good, which is tremendous considering the other Lucinda boots I own sound like crap. A terrible thing, in my opinion, to get a bootleg of an awesome live artist only to be let down by the sound quality.

This is the show closer of that boot, and I get a couple of minutes worth of crowd noise before, presumably, she comes out for the encore. An interesting thing that comes from listening to a bootleg that is still on the computer in a random order. You get every note and every pause.

“May This Be Love” – Emmylou Harris
From Wrecking Ball.

Emmylou Harris has a gorgeous, moving voice, but to be honest many of her songs leave me with little impression. This is doubly strange when I consider that she does convey a great deal of emotion in her songs. They just don’t tend to stick with me.

This is from her second album, I believe, with producer Daniel Lanois. There are lots of his trademark ethereal sounds throughout, but to be honest, once again, most of the album doesn’t leave a mark.

Take this song for instance, it is four minutes of guitar fuzz and Emmylou singing what must surely be a great, tragic song, but while listening I keep wondering when it will end. It is moving in its own little way, and perhaps if I had the headphones plugged in and a starry sky to look upon, I would be moved. But as is, it seems nice, but it is nothing I’ll remember.

“Single Girl” – Pat Carrell
From Songcatcher

Songcatcher, the movie always seemed like a way to cash in on the whole O Brother, Where Art Thou? buzz. The soundtrack carries several lovely songs and a number of irritatingly country songs.

“Single Girl” is a funny, very country little ditty that reminds me of both my grandma and a lady who tells stories on the local radio station on Saturday mornings. At just over a minute it isn’t much more than a snippet, but one that sticks with me.

“Rainy Night in Georgia” – Sam Moore and Conway Twitty
From Rhythm, Country and Blues

This is a great old, sad, soul song made famous by Book Benton. Here it is covered by Sam Moore of Sam and Dave fame and country legend Conway Twitty. It is from an album that coupled country singers with their soul-singing counterparts. Mostly, it stinks but this and a version of “Ain’t It Funny How Time Slips Away” by Lyle Lovett and Al Green make the album worth any money you might spend.

Sam and Conway are obviously having a lot of fun singing this old song, and they even throw a little banter midway through that sounds natural and fun.