Man it is hot as a bastard round these parts. I start a month's worth of summer classes today. Judging from the current academic rigor of the FREAKING UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, THE PEOPLE IN CHARGE OF THE NATION'S NUCLEAR WEAPONRY, this should be even more of a joke than the regular term. I felt like I had enrolled at Auburn during the Spring quarter. How much lower can you get? Maybe if I just call in to each class from bed they'll give me an A for demonstrating my ability to both remember what day it is and accurately use a phone. Jeez. I had an interview this morning at a high school of 4,200 students - holy crap. Bit different from personal experience of a high school of about 350 students.
Not much else is going on - working a lot and staying inside during daytime. Freaking desert. I miss the East Coast. God, people here are such gigantic douchebags! Every single day I am confronted with some new way to be a douchebag that simply astounds me. Here's something awesome that happened yesterday: Tiffany was sitting on the porch watching a bunch of kids jumping into the pool. There were a few parents, including the star of this story: a 300-pound hambeast in an orange one-piece. She looked like an English lad and his talking insect friends were going to bust out of her any minute. Well someone must have been drunker than the entire Irish nation a few years back because she had a four-year-old kid. Like most Californians, the kid cannot swim, so he is bouncing around the shallow end with floaties on his arms. Because he isn't old enough to have absorbed fully the douchebag culture, the child wishes to play with his mother-creature, flapping his little arms and trying to grab ahold of mommy. Mommy/giant inflatable gorilla responds thusly: "WHY DO YOU KEEP HITTING ME?!?!" and then shoves her fat palm into the kids face, giving her four-year-old son a bloody nose. The dad/zookeeper takes the kid to the shower and washes him and off staunches his nose until the bleeding stops. And what does the mother/fairy-tale pumpkin coach do? Stays in the pool and stares at Tiffany, as if daring my girlfriend to call her out for bludgeoning her own child. I came out at this point, and the woman/overstuffed sofa is giving us the evil eye as hard as she can, but it came out like a potato winking at us.
That's the sort of mindset every single worthless sack of shit around here carries. Each person, no matter who they are, what they do, and how they look, believe themself to be the end-all be-all of human achievement. I'm sorry, that's not how that works. Life here is a fashion statement, and there is so little substance involved it makes me sick. It shows in every facet, from co-workers complaining because they have to work more than a five hour shift, to the complete lack of effort put forth by the university, to the total lack of pride in one's own work found in business owners (including the apartment management, which hasn't fixed out hot water in six months!). Here, actually doing something doesn't win you any respect. It's how well you act like you did something that gets you by. When I meet people from the East who have moved to California, I ask them how they like it. When they respond that they do like living here, I think to myself: Great! One less asshole to deal with when I move back. Where did this sense of privilege come from? Dear Californians: Fuck off.
On a positive note, check out Jim's awesome band Le Loup. They were just signed to a record label, Hardly Art, and are working out an East Coast tour. Congratulations Jim!
Monday, June 25, 2007
Saturday, June 16, 2007
Rules of the Road
1. Thou shalt not tailgate while driving 80 mph
This bugs the shit out of me. You're driving a 1500-pound block of steel filled with explosive liquid, and some people feel that they have superhuman reaction times and are able to stop on a dime. This occurs at least five times on the way to and from work. I know this is southern California and everything is at least 20 miles away, but holy crap, what the hell is wrong with you? The "thing" out here is to drive a jacked up, gigantic truck (despite nonexistent gas mileage and the highest prices in the contiguous United States) and on top of that you're going to run others off the road? And how is tailgating going to get you to your destination any faster? Just relax, keep at least a car length off my ass.
2. Thou shalt pay attention to the traffic light.
Huge truck + cell phone + cd player + dvd player = total lack of awareness. In this same vein, please try and understand how traffic signals work. If the cross street is turning right/left on a green arrow, and you're waiting to turn right at a red light, then for fuck's sake get on with it. Obviously the turning traffic is "blocking" the straight-ahead traffic, so you're in the clear to turn.
3. Thou shalt be aware of others.
If you're driving 60 mph on the freeway side-by-side with another slow car, you're blocking any and all traffic from bypassing you. Not everyone wishes to take in the lovely desert scenery. Try and understand that, no, you are not the only person with a car and in fact the world does not revolve around you, although many people are fat enough for it to. Same applies to sitting in the left lane and going slow. The signs/driving manual/driving test/law states SLOWER TRAFFIC KEEP RIGHT. This means you, minivans.
4. Red doth mean red.
This hasn't changed since 1917 and the installation of the first traffic light. A red light does not mean "one or two more cars may pass; three if you're in a hurry." That's what yellow lights are for. Red = stop. Not stopping at red = death by own arrogance.
5. When thou mergest on thy mighty interstate, geteth on with it in a timely fashion!
This is what totaled my car. When you're merging, then FUCKING MERGE! You do NOT slow down to get onto an interstate! You do NOT wait until the last possible second to do so! You do NOT try and get in front of as many cars as possible by riding the merging lane into oblivion and merging from the shoulder! I see this last one occur daily.
5a. One when lane hath been shut, enter the open lane ere the first doth end.
This ties into the last rule - when signs are posted MILES in advance, with flashing lights, flares, cones, and a guy waving a big flag at you, go ahead and get the fuck over! By waiting until the last possible second to move into the open lane, you are creating a bottleneck that has a much larger effect on traffic flow then you may think. Think about it like this: what moves quicker, sand pouring through a single spout (like an hourglass) or sand pouring through a dozen spouts (like a sifter used for panning riverbeds)? It's just common sense! The best example of this is in Georgia, where 316 West merges with I-85. The two-lane road becomes one, with signs posted literally two miles before the merge. Yet nobody feels the need to get into the continuing lane until the last possible second, backing up traffic for 45 minutes. I'll even coast down the continuing lane leaving four or five car lengths of open space in front of me, yet not a single person will move over. Traffic in this case is caused by the bottleneck; wouldn't you rather be speeding along with no delay? Then no bottleneck!
6. Witnessing other's misfortunes is not tolerated on the road.
Rubbernecking: retarded. Someone changing their tire on the side of the road does not merit slowing to 10 mph and staring like you've just seen the holy grail. Even worse, an accident (that has been cleared from the road): would you want someone staring at your wrecked car, bloody nose, and/or dead friend? Yeah, me either you voyeurs, so put your blinders on and get a move on!
This bugs the shit out of me. You're driving a 1500-pound block of steel filled with explosive liquid, and some people feel that they have superhuman reaction times and are able to stop on a dime. This occurs at least five times on the way to and from work. I know this is southern California and everything is at least 20 miles away, but holy crap, what the hell is wrong with you? The "thing" out here is to drive a jacked up, gigantic truck (despite nonexistent gas mileage and the highest prices in the contiguous United States) and on top of that you're going to run others off the road? And how is tailgating going to get you to your destination any faster? Just relax, keep at least a car length off my ass.
2. Thou shalt pay attention to the traffic light.
Huge truck + cell phone + cd player + dvd player = total lack of awareness. In this same vein, please try and understand how traffic signals work. If the cross street is turning right/left on a green arrow, and you're waiting to turn right at a red light, then for fuck's sake get on with it. Obviously the turning traffic is "blocking" the straight-ahead traffic, so you're in the clear to turn.
3. Thou shalt be aware of others.
If you're driving 60 mph on the freeway side-by-side with another slow car, you're blocking any and all traffic from bypassing you. Not everyone wishes to take in the lovely desert scenery. Try and understand that, no, you are not the only person with a car and in fact the world does not revolve around you, although many people are fat enough for it to. Same applies to sitting in the left lane and going slow. The signs/driving manual/driving test/law states SLOWER TRAFFIC KEEP RIGHT. This means you, minivans.
4. Red doth mean red.
This hasn't changed since 1917 and the installation of the first traffic light. A red light does not mean "one or two more cars may pass; three if you're in a hurry." That's what yellow lights are for. Red = stop. Not stopping at red = death by own arrogance.
5. When thou mergest on thy mighty interstate, geteth on with it in a timely fashion!
This is what totaled my car. When you're merging, then FUCKING MERGE! You do NOT slow down to get onto an interstate! You do NOT wait until the last possible second to do so! You do NOT try and get in front of as many cars as possible by riding the merging lane into oblivion and merging from the shoulder! I see this last one occur daily.
5a. One when lane hath been shut, enter the open lane ere the first doth end.
This ties into the last rule - when signs are posted MILES in advance, with flashing lights, flares, cones, and a guy waving a big flag at you, go ahead and get the fuck over! By waiting until the last possible second to move into the open lane, you are creating a bottleneck that has a much larger effect on traffic flow then you may think. Think about it like this: what moves quicker, sand pouring through a single spout (like an hourglass) or sand pouring through a dozen spouts (like a sifter used for panning riverbeds)? It's just common sense! The best example of this is in Georgia, where 316 West merges with I-85. The two-lane road becomes one, with signs posted literally two miles before the merge. Yet nobody feels the need to get into the continuing lane until the last possible second, backing up traffic for 45 minutes. I'll even coast down the continuing lane leaving four or five car lengths of open space in front of me, yet not a single person will move over. Traffic in this case is caused by the bottleneck; wouldn't you rather be speeding along with no delay? Then no bottleneck!
6. Witnessing other's misfortunes is not tolerated on the road.
Rubbernecking: retarded. Someone changing their tire on the side of the road does not merit slowing to 10 mph and staring like you've just seen the holy grail. Even worse, an accident (that has been cleared from the road): would you want someone staring at your wrecked car, bloody nose, and/or dead friend? Yeah, me either you voyeurs, so put your blinders on and get a move on!
Monday, June 11, 2007
Definition
A buddy and I were discussing the differences in our musical tastes, and we boiled the whole thing down to this: what's more important, lyrics or music? What they are saying or how they're saying it? For him it's the latter; jam bands fill out the majority of his top ten favorite bands. Myself, I prefer a story to go with the music. Lyrical content plays a large role in whether or not I like a band. For example, my friend would enjoy a band like Phish, a band that may be musically competent but lyrically are on the same level as Koko the Magic Gorilla. I do not enjoy a band like Phish because songs that last longer than six minutes bore the shit out of me, and I don't enjoy spending my time listening to some bearded dude twiddle around the twelfth fret for half an hour. So I've decided to share a few bands who I feel are particularly excellent at writing lyrically-based songs. I've also decided to share a few choice lyrics from bands at the other end of the spectrum, and I'm not talking about just jam bands! So let's get this adventure started!
Ted Leo & the Pharmacists
We make our days as they make us,
As I must, as Odysseus,
Make myself my own Telemachus.
"Bous Stephanos, Stephanoumenos Dedalus!"
And if it hasn't been a bust,
Then "land-ho, Ulysseus!"
And all of us like Dedalus:
Dead, dead all of us.
-"My Vein Ilin"
If you didn't catch all the references in these two verses, it's the literary equivalent of stopping a Mike Tyson uppercut with your groin. Often you see the sacrifice of musicianship for lyrical content: a band may write fantastic lyrics but the music is very simple and plain. Ted Leo is a guitar virtuoso and incorporates some serious punk and rock influences into his songs. He graduated Notre Dame with an English major, and can turn a phrase into a catchy lyric better than anyone else. He's also a very liberal, renegade songwriter and can write some very combative lyrics. Here's a quick example:
And when the crying starts, you won't have to see their bloodshot eyes turn red.
And when the dying starts, you won't have to know a thing about who's dead.
This is your mission - like television - where the good guys always win.
-"Bomb.Repeat.Bomb"
Combative lyrics are one thing, and they can be very impressive, but they really lack any impact without a strong voice behind them. If you've seen Eddie Izzard's "Dress to Kill" you know exactly how important the right voice is (...yeah, a small pony). Ted Leo can push a lot of passion through the microphone, but this often tempers the anger with pure emotion. A more directed, focused voice can be found in the throat of Zach de la Rocha, lead singer of
Rage Against the Machine
revolutionary rhetoric. But the combination of There doesn't need to be a lot of introduction here, as almost everyone is familiar with RATM'sde la Rocha's screaming/rapping and Tom Morello's heavy metal fiddling can overshadow the actual lyrics
The present curriculum, I put my fist in 'em
Eurocentric every last one of 'em
See right through the red white and blue disguise
With lecture I puncture the structure of lies
-"Take the Power Back"
That last line is just fun to say, the way your lips have to clip out each syllable. Of course the idea behind the lyric is valid as well: American history and social studies focus almost exclusively on Europe, ignoring African, Latin American, and Asian ideas. That's a whole other debate however. Let's switch gears and look at what sort of lyrical contribution Phish makes.
Phish
Welcome this is a farmhouse, we have cluster flies alas
And this time of year is bad, we are so very sorry
There is little we can do but swat them
-"Farmhouse"
This is just a fantastic example of the interplay between metaphor and alliteration. Notice how the writer conveys the crushing depression of enclosure, surrounded by the biting "flies", which are a clear reference to the structure of American government and wait, no it's not, it's something he wrote on the back of his hand while waiting for the mushrooms to take effect. I don't expect too much from these guys, but I'm not going to pay money and listen to cross-dressers tell me about their fucking insect problems because they're too stoned and forgot to close the door last night. Now, I know that no one goes to a Phish concert for the lyrics. They go because the music is funky and they can smoke metric tons of marijuana for hours. But you shouldn't have to sacrifice lyrical content for groovy riffs! Here, take some of this and call me in the morning:
Mos Def
Wear those pretty clothes, drive them pretty cars
You a super hero, you a super star
You a super man, go head fly yo cape
Blowin' in the wind, let them touch the hem
Stand and fight and win, snatch the crown again
Wit' yo mighty swing, and yo flashy smile
Let them see the light
You so black and bright
You so bright you black
Shinin' you cryin' to fight them back.
-"Blue Black Jack"
This is part of a six-and-a-half minute blues/rock song during which Mos Def works his way along an ex-Parliament Funkadelic guitarist's trippy version of an old blues standard. The song slowly loses form throughout, ending up in a loud howling, chant of "yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah" as the guitarist goes to town. Added bonus: the song is about Jack Johnson, the first black heavyweight boxing champion, who won the title in 1910 after going fifteen rounds with the previously undefeated, white champion. Race riots followed. But now we can delve into the world of hip-hop without mentioning
Talib Kweli
People thinkin MC is short hand for Mis Conception
Let me meditate, set it straight, came to the conclusion
that most of these cats is featherweight, let me demonstrate
Walkin the streets is like battlin, be careful with your body
You must know karate or think your soul is bulletproof like Sade
Stop actin like a bitch already, be a visionary
And maybe you can see your name in the column of obituary
-"Definition"
Talib Kweli and Mos Def both spring forth from a place where rap isn't about ho's and ho-related things like benjamins and yachts. They actually have something to say in their songs and express it creatively in a way that most cannot hold a candle to. Lastly, let's look at two more artists, one who sucks at writing lyrics and the other who doesn't.
Jason Mraz
I’m just a curbside prophet
with my hand in my pocket
and I’m waiting for my rocket y'all
-"Curbside Prophet"
Jesus Christ shut the fuck up.
Bruce Springsteen
Now Tom said, 'Mom, wherever there's a cop beatin' a guy
Wherever a hungry newborn baby cries
Where there's a fight against the blood and hatred in the air
Look for me Ma, I'll be there.
Wherever there's somebody fightin' for a place to stand
Or a decent job or a helpin' hand
Wherever somebody's strugglin' to be free
Look in their eyes Mom - you'll see me'
-"The Ghost of Tom Joad"
I mean, come on, it's no contest.
Now don't think I don't enjoy lyrical nonsense. I mean, I have a song about a guy throwing an awesome pool party in my regular rotation. Anyway, I've been doing this for an hour and a half now so I'm leaving for dinner. Welcome back to me!
Ted Leo & the Pharmacists
We make our days as they make us,
As I must, as Odysseus,
Make myself my own Telemachus.
"Bous Stephanos, Stephanoumenos Dedalus!"
And if it hasn't been a bust,
Then "land-ho, Ulysseus!"
And all of us like Dedalus:
Dead, dead all of us.
-"My Vein Ilin"
If you didn't catch all the references in these two verses, it's the literary equivalent of stopping a Mike Tyson uppercut with your groin. Often you see the sacrifice of musicianship for lyrical content: a band may write fantastic lyrics but the music is very simple and plain. Ted Leo is a guitar virtuoso and incorporates some serious punk and rock influences into his songs. He graduated Notre Dame with an English major, and can turn a phrase into a catchy lyric better than anyone else. He's also a very liberal, renegade songwriter and can write some very combative lyrics. Here's a quick example:
And when the crying starts, you won't have to see their bloodshot eyes turn red.
And when the dying starts, you won't have to know a thing about who's dead.
This is your mission - like television - where the good guys always win.
-"Bomb.Repeat.Bomb"
Combative lyrics are one thing, and they can be very impressive, but they really lack any impact without a strong voice behind them. If you've seen Eddie Izzard's "Dress to Kill" you know exactly how important the right voice is (...yeah, a small pony). Ted Leo can push a lot of passion through the microphone, but this often tempers the anger with pure emotion. A more directed, focused voice can be found in the throat of Zach de la Rocha, lead singer of
Rage Against the Machine
revolutionary rhetoric. But the combination of There doesn't need to be a lot of introduction here, as almost everyone is familiar with RATM'sde la Rocha's screaming/rapping and Tom Morello's heavy metal fiddling can overshadow the actual lyrics
The present curriculum, I put my fist in 'em
Eurocentric every last one of 'em
See right through the red white and blue disguise
With lecture I puncture the structure of lies
-"Take the Power Back"
That last line is just fun to say, the way your lips have to clip out each syllable. Of course the idea behind the lyric is valid as well: American history and social studies focus almost exclusively on Europe, ignoring African, Latin American, and Asian ideas. That's a whole other debate however. Let's switch gears and look at what sort of lyrical contribution Phish makes.
Phish
Welcome this is a farmhouse, we have cluster flies alas
And this time of year is bad, we are so very sorry
There is little we can do but swat them
-"Farmhouse"
This is just a fantastic example of the interplay between metaphor and alliteration. Notice how the writer conveys the crushing depression of enclosure, surrounded by the biting "flies", which are a clear reference to the structure of American government and wait, no it's not, it's something he wrote on the back of his hand while waiting for the mushrooms to take effect. I don't expect too much from these guys, but I'm not going to pay money and listen to cross-dressers tell me about their fucking insect problems because they're too stoned and forgot to close the door last night. Now, I know that no one goes to a Phish concert for the lyrics. They go because the music is funky and they can smoke metric tons of marijuana for hours. But you shouldn't have to sacrifice lyrical content for groovy riffs! Here, take some of this and call me in the morning:
Mos Def
Wear those pretty clothes, drive them pretty cars
You a super hero, you a super star
You a super man, go head fly yo cape
Blowin' in the wind, let them touch the hem
Stand and fight and win, snatch the crown again
Wit' yo mighty swing, and yo flashy smile
Let them see the light
You so black and bright
You so bright you black
Shinin' you cryin' to fight them back.
-"Blue Black Jack"
This is part of a six-and-a-half minute blues/rock song during which Mos Def works his way along an ex-Parliament Funkadelic guitarist's trippy version of an old blues standard. The song slowly loses form throughout, ending up in a loud howling, chant of "yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah" as the guitarist goes to town. Added bonus: the song is about Jack Johnson, the first black heavyweight boxing champion, who won the title in 1910 after going fifteen rounds with the previously undefeated, white champion. Race riots followed. But now we can delve into the world of hip-hop without mentioning
Talib Kweli
People thinkin MC is short hand for Mis Conception
Let me meditate, set it straight, came to the conclusion
that most of these cats is featherweight, let me demonstrate
Walkin the streets is like battlin, be careful with your body
You must know karate or think your soul is bulletproof like Sade
Stop actin like a bitch already, be a visionary
And maybe you can see your name in the column of obituary
-"Definition"
Talib Kweli and Mos Def both spring forth from a place where rap isn't about ho's and ho-related things like benjamins and yachts. They actually have something to say in their songs and express it creatively in a way that most cannot hold a candle to. Lastly, let's look at two more artists, one who sucks at writing lyrics and the other who doesn't.
Jason Mraz
I’m just a curbside prophet
with my hand in my pocket
and I’m waiting for my rocket y'all
-"Curbside Prophet"
Jesus Christ shut the fuck up.
Bruce Springsteen
Now Tom said, 'Mom, wherever there's a cop beatin' a guy
Wherever a hungry newborn baby cries
Where there's a fight against the blood and hatred in the air
Look for me Ma, I'll be there.
Wherever there's somebody fightin' for a place to stand
Or a decent job or a helpin' hand
Wherever somebody's strugglin' to be free
Look in their eyes Mom - you'll see me'
-"The Ghost of Tom Joad"
I mean, come on, it's no contest.
Now don't think I don't enjoy lyrical nonsense. I mean, I have a song about a guy throwing an awesome pool party in my regular rotation. Anyway, I've been doing this for an hour and a half now so I'm leaving for dinner. Welcome back to me!
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