You know you're a lameass cyclist when you cruise down onto a familiar road that's just been milled. The surface is shitty and bumpy, there's nails and screws and glass in the debris, and, BTW, you discover the source of tube-puncturing wires is when they chew up the traffic sensors at stoplights. The manhole covers stick up like frickin' periscopes. Hey, you're looking at a flat here. But you're cackling anyhow. "Fresh tarmac here soon... sweeeet!" Dork.
Speaking of dorkitude, the wife & kid are off in Old Blighty running Grandad ragged and getting ready for the marriage of Nephew #3. So I've got tons of free time on my hands. How am I celebrating? By going to bed early most nights, eating healthier than usual, and riding my ass off. Dork.
Yep. I'm missing them quite a bit. It's not the same without 'em, y'know?
When my mind is a little uneasy I look for comfort music, stuff that I can listen to that peps me up, but sets my mind at ease. This usually means variations on rockabilly, surf music, and other guitar-heavy, upbeat tunes. Here's some old, and new favorites.
Ever heard of Los Straightjackets? They're pretty good.
In that spirit... one of my recent faves that Pandora dumped in my lap is Ike Reilly Assassination. Great lyrics, thumpin' guitar, wry sense of humor. They are amazing. I like this one in particular because it reminds me of a artsy hippie chick I once dated. My commie drove a VW Golf, not a Nova. She probably couldn't have been cooler - had a solo show at a major gallery in Koeln when she was 23 or 24 = but possibly driving a Nova would have helped.
They've got some musical range too. Check this out.
Why isn't that the soundtrack for some new Apple product's ad campaign? You got me. Maybe 'cuz they're better than that. Check this out:
That's got a Violent Femmes meets Bay City Rollers Vibe... y'know, if either of those bands could actually play their instruments. And they must be good because Gogol Bordello remade one of their songs, gypsy punk style.
Okay, I've decided that although I like them, Gogol Bordello makes no fucking sense whatsoever. Maybe we're heading down a dead end there. Let's go back to that last intersection of guitars & people who would drive a Nova. Check out the Hillbilly Hellcats, one of my favorite psychobilly bands.
The first time I heard that song, I damn near ran the truck off the road. Those lyrics are pretty blunt.
Ahem. Speaking of blunt and psychobilly, the Reverend Horton Heat preaches on the subject:
The Reverend isn't one-dimensional either. Sometimes he does straight country. This is maybe the best breakup song I've ever heard.
Other than this one - which apparently comes from a galaxy where Woody Guthrie, Jello Biafra and James Hetfield are one person.
Okay, so maybe I don't listen to music that's exactly comforting. But it is offbeat upbeat. For what it's worth, I had a friend who had a Galaxy 500, if memory serves correctly. We roadied for this promoter, and worked a BB King show. After the show, my buddy fired up the car, and this eerie glow started coming from under the hood. We popped it, and the engine was burning up. So we drove it across the field where the concert was, to near a pond, and left it. I know - the logic here is not immediately evident. Beer may have been involved. Either way, the fire burnt itself out eventually, and when my boy came back the next morning, it started right up. All the rubber parts, including the insulation on the wires, had burned off. But it ran, scorch marks and all. That was a badass car and the black & copper of the engine prefigured the steampunk movement by a good six or seven years. And yeah, BB King gave a pretty good show.
Gotta get some surf music in there. But with a twist. Here's Dick Dale with Stevie Ray Vaughn, with the first, last and middle word in surf music, Pipeline.
Dale is who a lot of these psychobilly bands are riffing on. He's a big influence on their guitar style. He defined the sound. Speaking of surfing, have you ever seen "Riding Giants"? If I'm flipping through the channels and find this film, I can't turn the station over. It's an amazing film; I'm transfixed by the 70 foot waves. Now somebody has gone and mashed up my favorite Dick Dale song, with scenes from Riding Giants. I watch this, and get totally amped.
Like Downy kitchen towel, that's a quicker picker upper.
Well, time to bring the show to a close for the week. Guess I'll shut 'er down with some SCOTS. Can't go wrong there.
And here's one that will maybe take my friend Megs back to Chapel Hill - SCOTS playing in their native environment, Local 506. Gotta love how Mary Huff gets down to the nitty gritty...
5 comments:
Riding Giants is great. Love that place that is way way off shore (was it "Jaws") where they have to boat out to it and it's strictly tow-in because the waves are so big. Beautiful. I grew up surfing crappy storm-driven waves on the West Coast of Florida. We dreamed of real waves.
I don't care if they can't play, damn it. The Violent Femmes are part of the soundtrack of my youth, and they're awesome.
Scott - yep. My two favorite parts are when the one guy talks about surfing Maverick's alone for like 10 years before anybody would believe him about how awesome it was, and at the end where the one old guy talks about riding the sea like the sea was an old girlfriend he still loved. Best sports documentary I've ever seen.
Ryan - I agree they are awesome. But make no mistake, they were pretty stinky on their instruments (a la early REM) at the outset. You can love something that is not technically proficient.
Dang. Just dang. You've outdone yourself.
Sorry, Corporate Overlords, I can't start a sunny Friday like this, and then be expected to take your PowerPoint "deck" seriously on the conference call. I won't politely pretend you're not an idiot when you try to pass verbs off as nouns, and vice versa. It doesn't make you sound like Mr. Fast Company. It makes you sound with a tool with an MBA who is desperately afraid that you have to use verbal affectations, or everyone will know you're all smoke, mirrors, and BS. Which, of course, you are.
The Straightjackets and the Reverend and Gogol Bordello drove all that false reverence out of me. ...and then, SCOTS showed up, and I turned outright rebellious.
You know, watching Los Straightjackets play could cost me some money. "Hey there, beloved Telecaster in the basement, we need to open this relationship up. You have the twang, baby, and you sound great through that Fender amp, but you won't do whammy bar dives like the other guitars. I won't make you bolt an aftermarket Bigsby to your perfectly-proportioned front, just to save our relationship, but we need to work this out, baby. Are you open to sharing this thing with a Strat or a Jaguar?"
RTW, you've optimized my asynchronous relationship with the mission space in my task accomplishment area to the extent that I now feel it necessary to elevator out of here and procure an optimum amount of malt libations for the stated purpose of self-inebriation, despite the fact that it is only mid-afternoon.
That stuff sure is standing up and dancing around like you just don't care music, isn't it?
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