Obsessive List 2: iPOD Essentials

Got a couple people working on Obsessive List 2, which I will either post here or link to eventually. Everybody's got their iPOD bustin', and I guess the politically correct thing to do would be to talk about how our society's infatuation with isolating everyone from each other is only causing us to become more and more remote from those qualities of love, peace, and harmony so central to humanity's wellbeing, and how this goal is only furthered hindered by these little mechanical devils, but since I generally don't like people too much, and the people I do like all have iPODS or are in love with music, allow this raspberry to reflect my views on the above argument:


thbbbbbthhhh!

Okay, here's the list (in no particular order):

1. Jerry Springer: The Opera - The "Broadway Showtune" has never been my favorite type of music. However, if the show in question includes transsexuals, diaper fetishes, the KKK and the eternal struggle between God and the Devil, count me in.

At first, the idea of mixing Jerry Springer, the works of Dante and Milton, and Wagnerian Opera into the shell of a "typical" Broadway show (or East End, as this so far has only been showing to rave reviews in England) sounds ridiculous. And Act I, which sets up Springer's eventual descent into Hell where he is called upon to mediate a Springer-esque show between Jesus and Satan, is chock-full of lowbrow, bawdy comedy. How this transforms into a meditation into man's role in the nature of Good and Evil, and how he must ultimately accept responsibility for the consequences of that role is both exciting and refreshing in a time when what we usually think of as a musical is already undergoing a renaissance.

A truly unique take on a tired genre, and essential if for nothing else than for the inclusion of song titles like Mama Gimmie Smack on the Asshole.

2. Jimi Hendrix Experience Box Set - Here's the deal with Hendrix. No one else, before or after, could play the guitar so loose, so wet, and still completely lock into a groove. The closest person I can think of would be Stevie Ray Vaughn, who idolized Jimi, often covering many of his signature pieces. Hendrix's edge came from trying so many different things, and bringing something fresh, something pure to it all. Everything he did has that "Hendrix" stamp on it.

The beauty of the Jimi Hendrix Experience Box Set is that none of the selections are the "album" versions - you get to hear alternates, demos, live cuts, and b-sides created in an effort to work out a particular issue plaguing another song. Some songs have been radically re-worked (check out Stone Free and Freedom); some contain tiny alterations or additions that force the listener to re-imagine their conception of the original (I can't help but add my own harmony vocals after hearing their addition in an otherwise straight version of Hey Joe). With music spanning from the first album to the (unrealized in his lifetime) First Rays of the New Rising Sun and Band of Gypsies, this is the quintessential Experience.

3. Frank Zappa: You Can't Do That On Stage Anymore, Vol 1-6 - There have been few audacious live projects that have truly added to a band's legacy. Pearl Jam releasing all of their live shows for the past two tours. The Grateful Dead's 36-volume (and rising) "Dick's Picks." Both series have flashes of brilliance that might otherwise not had been captured. But no one took the idea of live music to the heights that Frank Zappa did with his 6-volume, 12-CD You Can't Do That On Stage Anymore series. Rather than blather endlessly of my love for this series, and the music of Zappa in general, I'll let the words (abridged) from his introduction to the series speak for itself (reprinted with absolutely no permission whatsoever...sorry!):

"This series has taken twenty years to put together. It provides, for those interested in my music, a comprehensive collection of previously unreleased live material (ABSOLUTELY NO OVER-DUBS), recorded in every available medium, beginning with the earliest tapes (October, 1968, Royal Festival hall, London, England), to the most recent (materials from the 1988 BROADWAY THE HARD WAY big band tour).
This collection is not chronological. Any band can be (and often is) edited to the performance of any other band from any other year, sometimes in the middle of a song. The selections were chosen as answers to these hypothetical questions:

  1. Is this the best recorded version of THIS SONG by THIS BAND?
  2. Is there some "folkloric" significance to this performance?
  3. Is it a premiere recording?
  4. Is it a "one-time-only" performance of an improvised event?
  5. Is there a good solo on it?
  6. Will it give "Conceptual Continuity Clues" to the hard-core maniacs with a complete record collection (ed. guilty!)
  7. Does the inclusion of the song help the stylistic flow of the album sequence by providing contrast or relief?
  8. Is there film or videotape of the performance?

Thank you."

4. Bastard Son of Movie Clips - I have a love/hate relationship with dialogue on soundtracks. Generally speaking, I hate listening to a movie soundtrack and having the songs broken up with snippets from the film. After the first couple of listens, it gets way too predictable and then you find yourself stabbing at the Forward button every couple of tracks just to get to the damn song!

But hey! What if you were to take all those bits of dialogue from your favorite movies and television shows, and toss it in to play at odd moments between 5000 + songs? Well, sometimes you get gold, my friend. Pure, hilarious GOLD. What's better than hearing Cleavon Little scream, "Hey! Where all the White women at?" when you least expect it? Those bits that bored you to tears now snap your attention back to the music that playing. My rules for dialogue inclusion - short, snappy, and unexpected. Samuel L. Jackson's speech at the end of PULP FICTION is classic - but I don't want a 2-minute speech in between songs!

Some of my favorite movies and television shows to pull/rip quotes from: NAPOLEON DYNAMITE, GHOSTBUSTERS, BLAZING SADDLES, FLETCH, CADDYSHACK, SOUTH PARK, SIMPSONS, ARMY OF DARKNESS, FAMILY GUY, WILLY WONKA, TOO CLOSE FOR COMFORT (Monroe!!!!!!).

5. Stevie Wonder: The Stevie Wonder "Trifecta" - Man, I loves the Stevie Wonder! After a particularly dismal episode of American Idol the missus and I were discussing who we felt in the world of Pop, Rock, and R&B were the top of the crop in terms of vocal ability and originality. Who has that "thing," that certain something in the vocal cords that makes you shiver and shake whenever you hear it.

Well, Stevie Wonder is right there at the top of the heap (the list of who else is up there would make a great list in itself). He's one of those singular performers that refuse to be pigeon-holed by his fan base. It doesn't matter if you love jazz, rock, metal, pop, rap, blues, polka. Everyone likes (or loves) at least one Stevie Wonder song. Very few acts fit this description (although I would argue the same status for Queen). While most people would be content to use a Greatest Hits compilation for this entry (The Original Musiquarium Vol I almost fits the bill), I decided to go with the 1-2-3 early 70's punch that is Talking Book, Music From My Mind, and Innervisions. Superstition, I Believe, Evil, Higher Ground, Living For the City...all of these are classics, and a blueprint for the shape of funk and pop for years to come.

6. Tenacious D - You gotta love the D! JB and Rage Cage, Jables and Kyle...call them what you will, they ROCK. Rock HARD. With a tasty sauce! Many people don't realize that Tenacious D has been going on for a long time, much longer than the release of the record or the appearances on Mr. Show.

As much as I love the comedy of the music, the main thing that makes this essential for me is the overwhelming sincere love they have for the music. The songs have styles, chord progressions, harmonies, that are so quintessential rock...it's like you're listening to a song that's been on the classic rock radio for years, but fresh and bold and full of lyrics about double teams, bears, and mind bullets. Take away the funny lyrics of Rock Your Socks Off and you have a Dead Kennedys songs. The bridge for the The Road is classic Bob Seger-era arena rock. The original version of Tribute was done to Led Zep's Stairway to Heaven. And maybe it's me, but I hear a little old school Iron Maiden when I sing along to Lee.This is one of those records I can listen to from beginning to end, and can sing every note. I completely get that some people are just not into this; the D are one of those bands where you're in for a penny, in for a pound. Completely essential...EXPLOSIVO!

7. Buckethead - Buckethead satisfies two essential iPOD impulses for me. On the one hand, he satisfies my craving for blistering guitar work and crazy soloing. Most of my formative teenage years was listening to equal parts classic rock/metal ala Jimi Hendrix and Pete Townsend, and metal guitar heroics via Steve Vai, Joe Satriani and Yngwie Malmsteen. Buckethead's playing is insane - different albums features totally different playing styles. But he's mostly in that avant-guard blizzard that accompanies his frequent collaborators Bill Laswell, Bootsy Collins, and John Zorn. The Colma record is mostly acoustic and light, while Population Overload is centered around Eddie Hazel-era funk, and the Cuckoo Clocks of Hell is pure brutal death metal. So score one for the playing itself.

The other way he's considered essential for my player centers around one album in particular - Funnel Weaver. Funnel Weaver is a collection of 49 tracks, each one no more than a minute or so. Each track is a different riff or groove, sometimes expanded, sometimes not. Every idea features virtuoso playing. His music works the same way the dialogue mentioned earlier does - as sporadic breaks in the usual music monotony, snapping you awake and forcing you pay attention to what's going on.

8. Joni Mitchell: Shadows and Light - Joni Mitchell came to me from some odd places. The first place I became interested in her is from the audio commentary to the movie ALMOST FAMOUS. Cameron Crowe is a Mitchell-worshipper; his one purposeful continuity error in the movie is the inclusion of Joni Mitchell's Blue album in a record store, even though the album would not have been released at the time the movie takes place.

A day or so later, I was listening to the now-defunct Noneradio which was hosted by music god (to me) Mike Keneally. The end of each show usually is the hosts talking about whatever while some cool easy music plays in the background. On this particular night it was a crazy folk/jazz hybrid, and my music geek ear knew it was hearing Pat Metheny on some blistering jazz solo, and it was something I hadn't heard before. Sure enough, Keneally annouced we were listening to Joni Mitchell's double live album, Shadows and Light, which contained not only Metheny on guitar, but bass legend Jaco Pastorius as well. I was completely hooked, and ran out to but the album the next day. It's HUGE...Joni's incredible voice and mood mixed in with hard-core jazz and folk. Great solos, great melodies and solos, superb live sound, covers to Charles Mingus tunes set to vocals; this is one of the essential live recordings ever.

9. Pimps, Players, and Private Eyes - Because, really...who doesn't want the theme songs from all 3 SHAFT movies?

Every song on this record is an absolute, certified funk/soul slap your bitch then make sweet love classic. You get Trouble Man, Pusherman, I Choose You, and the great Across 110th Street, getting double props for its later inclusion in Quentin Tarantino's JACKIE BROWN. Plus a bevy of other great songs that in some instances left more of a mark then the films they appeared in.

Now shut yo' mouth!

10. Isis: Panopticon - Okay, you knew you weren't going to get away without at least one metal record, right? I saw the Isis name in a list of the year's Top 40 metal records in Decibel magazine for 2004. Picked this up and was immediately immersed in a slow, undulating drone of sound. There are some vocals, but I can't for the life of me ever pay attention to them. The real focus here is on the music. Everything is carefully layered and built to such a degree that the record slowly swallows you as you listen; comparisons to later Neurosis are on the mark, but what separates Isis and Panopticon is the way it pulls you in its ebb and flow. If I'm kind of heavy with the ocean and water imagery, it's because that's the best description I can think of for the music - it breaths and stretches, covering all in its wake.

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Alright, there you go! Maybe not the 10 MOST essential things (if that were the case, this thing would be covered with the Beatles, Jethro Tull, the Who, and enough Dio to shame even me), but these are all things that, once having been placed in my player, have never left!

Want a little more? Here's Sean's list.

Cheeky Monkey: Rhode Island Part II

What can one say about a restaurant called the Cheeky Monkey? There were monkeys. It was cheeky. 'Nuff said.

Well, actually, there is a lot more than that. Picture a swinging lounge type atmosphere mixed with incredible food, spacious rooms, and a hint of the old new England charm, and you come a bit nearer to what this place has to offer. We arrived and went up to a small lounge on the second floor, where the group was indulging in some drinks from the open top-shelf bar. Chase spares no expense! After arriving with Lorraine in tow, the sheer number of salespeople in the room dictated that I have a least one drink. So, a gin and tonic later (remember, I don't really drink, so cut the lightweight a break!) I felt friendly enough to walk around and "press the flesh."

Never had I seen a place more aptly named. The restaurant is literally crawling with monkeys. Below are a few pictures (some taken by me, some taken from the website):

Here's a very dark picture of Lorraine smiling next to the monkey guarding the door to the restaurant. This is at the end of dinner; as Lorraine doesn't normally like having her picture taken, you can see the benign effect being near all those monkeys had on her!

This is a picture of a lamp near the table I ate at. As you can plainly see, this is a monkey that has his hands full. Yup, monkey. Two hands. Full. Monkey.

All in all, it was a pretty nice time. I decided to leave early, as the temptation to drink and flirt shamelessly with the ladies was too much amidst all those primates (kidding Mrs. Voss!). However, if this is to be the norm for dining while I'm here, I will definitely be joining the group for tomorrow. I would have added in additional pics, but towards the end of the evening it was hard to get people to stand still due to increased monkey/alcohol activity. For the record, here was what I had (all excellent): pork dumplings, spicy calamari, spring rolls, mesculin salad with blue cheese and raspberry dressing, filet minon and salmon with coffee and a chocolate raisin mini-muffin for dessert.

Monkeys good. Rhode Island good. Chris tired. Chris go to sleep.

It's the Ocean State, You Know!

10:30 AM - I pick up the "road machine." The 4-to-the-floor, kick ass, HAWSOME (thanks, Wil) vehicle for my three day business trip to that no man's desolate wasteland known as...

...Rhode Island. Newport, Rhode Island, to be exact.

So this is going to be one of those trips where I have to put in an appearance as the designated "trainer" for the Northeast Region's Sales Conference. In corporate speak, the words "Regional Sales Meeting" loosely translates to, "Three days of massive drinking, hangovers, and contests to see who can get into who's pants." This is of course a rough translation. But, never having been to Rhode Island and getting the chance to drive there, I decided to take the plunge. Lorraine, putting in her designated appearance as "HR representative" to ensure that if anything uh, naughty, does in fact occur, that it is at least semi-officially "sanctioned" by Human Resources, asked if she could ride along with me. Being 5 months pregnant (her, not me), I acquiesced. So, no screaming metal for the drive - that was okay. I've been blowing my eardrums out anyway lately. We jumped into the road machine (see below) and took off.

Yes, it is the precision, mechanical perfection that is the 2006 Nissan Sentra.

Driving along 95 North for over 3 hours with a short pregnant woman is about how you would expect it to be. Since the first couple hours were music-free, it gave me a chance to think over the gameplan for the meeting.

Normally, my modus operandi is to be as quiet as possible, slink along, and hope that nobody notices me so I can get back to my room as soon as possible after the meetings and group dinners. This usually works when I'm with my boss, since she can then take up the slack. Solo is a different story. Especially when I'm no longer drinking (25 pounds lost so far, 7 more to go). So I decided I would try to be sociable, smile as much as possible, and then slink back to my room ASAP. When I got to the hotel room, I practiced smiling in the mirror a couple times to make sure I had my "Yes, I totally get you and I'm having a blast here wih salespeople" face:

Just a little more practice, and I'll be set for the dinner tonight. More details to come when I return.

GUEST POST: Wherein I Challenge the Blogger to Toss His Salad

The challenge flowed over the Ethernet a few days ago from Jason D upstate. Mix a healthy dose of Smokey the Bear, hardcore via the Freeze and Black Flag, toss in an enthusiastic love of books, ancient Rome, Star Wars, and Anna Pacquin. Shake, stir, then pour into a tall, thin, converse-and-spectacle-wearing eco kid, and you get some idea of my list-obsessed vegetarian friend.

Late last year a new eatery opened up in downtown Albany called the Greenhouse, where you can mix and match various ingredients to create a custom salad or wrap. The challenge? I get to choose the ingredients, Jason goes out and eats it, writing up the experience in the process. After considering the options here was my selection:

  1. Mesculin mixed greens
  2. Avocado
  3. Jalapeno peppers
  4. Dried cranberries
  5. Mandarin oranges
  6. Balsamic vinaigrette

Here's Jason with the result:

I have to admit, when I first read these ingredients I was skeptical that you might have broken the "no intentional gross-out" rule. But after giving it more thought, I can see what you are up to here: contrast and lots of it. Sweet fruit and spicy jalapeno, bright acidic orange and smooth avocado. I didn't know what the hell the balsamic was all about (ed. neither do I). I expected to be extremely conscious of the precise contents of each bite. With that in mind, and still just a little fearful of encountering a disgusting combo, I decided to purchase a Saranac root beer to go with my wrap.

Since I was with a group of co-workers, I went with them and their more conventional salads (Caesar, Cobb) to Tricentennial Park, there to enjoy the sunshine and early blooming trees with my repast.

Something happened en route to the park. The liquid of the balsamic dressing combined with the avocado to form a sort of creamy amalgam. I should point out here that the avocado was mashed, not diced as I had expected. Had it been diced it may not have reacted in quite the same way. Anyway, this slurry penetrated all layers of the wrap, picking up flavors as it went. The result was a very consistent flavor throughout the sandwich - a taste that starts out both sweet and tart and finishes with a warm kick from the chills. Texture-wise, the whole was soft, creamy and juicy, with only the jalapenos - which were fresh slices, not from a jar - providing an occasional crunch. Napkins were definitely needed.

All in all, I guess you would call this "southwest Asian fusion" if you wanted to give it a name. It has a nice unique flavor, more Asian than anything else, but I never really detected the balsamic vinegar, which was apparently (and surprisingly) overpowered by the other ingredients. I think it would have worked as well if not better with another dressing. Also, this is not a salad/wrap for someone who suffers from acid indigestion; I think the pH of the whole thing must be pretty low. Fortunately I don't have that problem and there are Tums for those who do. I give it a qualified thumbs-up.

JD

Check here if you want to see Jason's man-sized book list at LibraryThing!

We Are Born Into This

"Beating me with that strap taught me something."
"What did it teach you?"
"How to type."

-Charles Bukowski, from an 1981 interview.

Many of my strongest memories of Charles Bukowski come not so much from the actual words he wrote, the poems and stories that would stay with me for years and years, but from the experiences and surroundings that enveloped me as I discovered him. Originally this was going to be a review of the new DVD documentary BUKOWSKI: BORN INTO THIS, but as I sat and watched the film (which was great), and heard those dusty, forlorn poems again, those memories returned.

It was Burroughs that got me into Bukowski, but it wasn't his writings, nor any of the Beat writers of that time, which is fitting because when I think about Bukowski, and I think about those other writers, fine writers all, who built their lives and their moments on the experimentation and ride of life, the ride of drugs, the thrill of experience and the underground bop and jazz of the "cult" culture, I always see Hank as the antithesis of it all, the pocked-marked man scowling in the corner at the rest, drinking his wine and stripping his words down until there was nothing left except his life - dirty and stinking, smelling of cigarettes, beer and horses. Point of fact, my first experience with Bukowski wasn't his poetry at all, it was a biography I found called HANK by Neeli Cherkovski. I only stumbled upon it because for some reason the person who restocked the college library shelves stuck it in with the Bukowski stuff, which came before the Burroughs stuff, which was what I was looking for at the time when I first saw that scarred face adorning the front jacket.

I skipped the next few days' worth of classes to entrench myself in the corner desk next to that particular book shelf and read the book front to back. This is my clearest memory - sitting at the desk, my class books shielding my from people I might know who would ask why the hell I wasn't in class and I just read, read and soaked up every word I could. The first fiction I read turned out to be his last novel published while he was alive, Pulp: a scathing mish-mash of noir and SF that was a homage to the city that he called home both in life and in print - L.A. It was only after that I managed to get my hand on a book of his poetry.

The first actual poem I remember reading came from Play the Piano Drunk Like a Percussion Instrument Until the Fingers Begin to Bleed a Bit, and was called The Night I Was Going to Die. I had been having a recurring problem when sleeping, where I would be awake but paralyzed, unable to breathe, and would only be able to move after literally rolling myself off the bed. There was always that fear that I would fall right through the bed, through the floor and die. So at the time it was a revelation when I read these words that begin the poem:

The night I was going to die
I was sweating on the bed
and I could hear the crickets
and there was a cat fight outside
and I could feel my soul dropping down through the
mattress

Bukowski had a hard life, and his writing reflects that. There is no pretense; this is writing so autobiographical it was at times painful to read. Even the parts that were outright fiction were true. From his brutal childhood at the hands of a German father that ruled by the rod to his lonely acne-riddled adolescence to his life as a drunk, hulking ugly scarred man looking to scrap a living out at the Post Office and the horse track, all the while writing, writing to live, writing to find something that could reflect what he saw in his eyes every day walking the streets of Los Angeles in the 50's to the 90's when he finally died. While everyone else from Burroughs to Kerouac to Ginsberg were working into different and more extreme writing styles like the cut-up made popular in Burroughs' writing to the stream of consciousness that populated Kerouac later works, Henry "Hank" Charles Bukowski, jr. was stripping everything away, simply seeing the poetry in the sad drunk love weary world around him, and communicating it in a way that was soft and hard, gruff and tearful, but always grounded in the dirt and dust was the beauty of a man's life, a life laid bare in the pages found in a college library in 1991.

There are few people whose work and life struck or continue to strike this type of chord with me. Shakespeare, Zappa, Coltrane, Ellison, Kurosawa. Charles Bukowski was another one of those people for me, the Hero of the Horse Track Poets.