Tuesday, October 30, 2007


Join us at Connie's Book Castle with author Michael Ken Gleeson as he reads from and signs his new book, THE YEAR I WENT BALD WAS THE WORST YEAR OF MY LIFE: My Wife Split, Kids Made Cracks, A Hooker Gave Me The Clap and I Grew Long What Little Hair I Had Left Before Learning To Cook For Myself.

Thanks in part to five stars reviews from both Bald Type and Egghead Chef magazines, TYIWBWTWYOML: MWSKMCAHGMTCAIGLWLHIHLBLTCFM has percolated into the kitchens of Denver.

"I went bald, lost my wife and then my job as a real estate trader," said Connie's Book Castle owner Connifred Mason. "Then I opened this book store, which isn't exactly doing gangbusters. But I can't say it hasn't scored me any free 'tang," he elaborated.


Woof -- Friday night's 'Tique was a bust. Following last month's 200+ night, this outing had 30 paying attendees and 15 or so early birds that avoided the cover charge. The best part: the venue wasn't expecting us. Still, it wasn't an altogether terrible evening: the low pressure meant that we could play whatever we wanted and have fun with our friends that showed (including Brian, who seemed in good spirits and has been extra-sharp on the jokes of late). Unfortunately, due to an earlier agreement Aaron made with the owner of the venue, our payment was, well, "nominal".

Shortly before the last 'Tique, we began a dialogue as to what's next. Although the majority of 'Tiques have done well, we'd like to move out of that venue and onto more. The argument to move is easy: the $5 cover charge is a bit ridiculous, the joker that runs the place is a nightmare, and -- save for the outdoor patio, which isn't functional during winter -- the venue isn't exactly pleasing to the eyes unless you love the personality and decor of a dental office. On top of that, I've never heard more complaints about a bar staff.

Ideally, we could split our current sets into a laid back weekly at a downtown cafe and take the 'Tique to another venue for the dancier side. At least in Ann Arbor, and probably other cities, the model for DJ nights and events could be toyed with a bit. Individual events are still far more appealing than routine weeklies so I'll have to consider that before proposing a night somewhere.

Somewhat surprisingly, it was one of my better nights on turntables and inspired me to consider curating and editing a long-playing mix complete with edits, mixes, original material, and possibly one or two forthcoming HOO! tunes. A title, Black Matter (or Dark Matter ), and design scheme have been tumbling around my head and a tentative tracklist has been prepped.

Will Eisner once commented that he combined his ineptitude as a struggling painter and his ineptitude as a struggling writer to create an aptitude in the field of sequential narrative (re: comic books). Richard D. James said that often the most interesting musicians are those that don't seek fame or must be prodded to release a record, and the best promoters often make the worst crud.

An important life lesson was learning that people often fall into great jobs by mistake or find strengths and success in roles other than (but related to) their original passion. My strengths may lie more in acting as a circuit between other peoples' music and new ears by DJing and releasing music, which I'm completely fine with. I've no doubt there will be a day when I release something of my own worth a damn but my greatest successes so far are not in that field.

The recent arrival of the P-Comb master has thrown me right back into ecstatic fandom and reassured me that releasing music is going to be really great. Roj should be sending his files along soon for a smash inaugural release and great things lie past that.

It can't always be an awful world.


Tuesday, October 23, 2007


In the past week, at least two or three hours of each day has been devoted to recording. Although not without its benefits, eating, drinking, and pissing tend to take a backseat during that time.
Typically, my ears are exhausted from spending hours obsessing over a five-second section of a song and I'm so restless that sleep is ruff.

Nonetheless, there's a particular Andres Segovia record I can always put on. Pulled from the 50 cent bin at the shop, it was so terribly hacked it looked unplayable. Fortunately, my taste is so warped from endless listening of bad cassette dubs on blown car speakers during my teens that this was a plus. The sound is perfect: a mess of clicks, hiss and rattle with grit to throw the needle from groove to groove mid-note. Played loud enough, it sounds like Christian Marclay got a hold of a Derek Bailey album and gave it the business. Played quietly, ENB and I could fall asleep to it every night.

In terms of the actual sound of the recording, Stuart Scharf's score for George Dumpson's Place is somewhat similar. Opening with the same boxy acoustic classical guitar sound, Scharf's music eventually veers into jazzier territory without changing mood. It's a nice piece and a nice film I sometimes throw on when I'm overwhelmed.

Speaking of, ever read the A section of the New York Times? Cripes.

Last night was LH's going away party at the Elks Lodge. RSW and I were on the fence about attending but I didn't want to say no to visiting the Lodge before it's shut down or sold. RSW did end up passing and ACL and I went ahead. Unfortunately, it was pretty ritual. Same old shit. It was like a carbon copy of the last Lodge party but the jams were a bit more piss. And despite being the most packed I've seen it, excitement was a little low. Either I wasn't feeling it, or it was a pain in the ass because it stunk and you couldn't walk anywhere, or my tastes are changing.

A quote from Dan Clowes' story "The Party" would be appropriate but it's not handy at the mo'. In regard to attending parties, one's hopes are often that something amazing or wild would happen... but never does.

It could be argued that an individual gets one or two really good parties in his or her life. There's an age, a time, and factors that come together for a 100% experience. After that, it's 70% or below, 80% if you're lucky. I want more.

Thursday, October 18, 2007


A few nights ago, ENB met me at closing time and we began riding home down Liberty. Between Division and Thompson, Wes Anderson and Jason Schwartzman were walking toward the theater. We were pretty excited so we spun around and approached them. They introduced themselves, shook our hands, and complimented us both (Wes liked my track jacket and called Erin's bike a "classic". Schwartzman said, "Yeah, classic! You're looking good on that bike." Hilarious.). They were both of smaller frames than I imagined, dressed nicely, and had excellent

ENB was wired for the rest of the ride home so we decided to watch The Royal Tenenbaums back at the house. The majority of it was very enjoyable but parts still felt... not as much precious as trite, I suppose. It still cracks me up when I think of RDS's parents going on and on about how "weird" Rushmore is. Then again, they had a sticker on their front door of George Bush hangin' with George Washington at what looked like a séance with the inscription "National Prayer Team". They were weird, not Rushmore.

I'd almost completely forgotten about the Tenenbaums scene in which the scope of Margot's infidelity becomes clear. Almost every male I know commented that they felt ill during the montage, which seemed like the most obvious and astoundingly stupid thing a male could say.
Perhaps I don't exactly relate.

A preceding scene certainly had more of an effect on me: Eli's dumping of Margot in broad daylight on an overpass walkway. It's fairly short and the emotions of the scene are stunted, but the cold of the city day is very apparent--all that cold, emotionless concrete. After one of the very first screenings of The Royal Tenenbaums, a life-long New York resident told Anderson he'd made the city look beautiful. This was very recently post-9/11, and while I don't completely disagree with him (being only an occasional traveler to NYC), this scene was almost enough to leave me cold for the entire movie. It was most likely Anderson's intention to match the setting to the mood as he has in other films but it's a relatively subtle part of his filmmaking and went beyond being simply a cinematic concept for myself.

Bottle Rocket and Rushmore both had excellent soundtracks and scores, and impeccable placement. The Royal Tenenbaums, on the other hand, had a fair share of duds and bad cues among some of Mothersbaugh's most arresting numbers ("111 Archer Avenue" & "Sonata For Cello and Piano in F Minor" being the gems). To nitpick, I would've scrapped "Scrapping and Yelling" from its scene, moved John Lennon's "Look At Me" to the end of the scene when Chas and the boys bed down for the first night back at the Tenenbaum house, and raised the volume on Dylan's "Wigwam" and cut the audio upon Henry & Ethel's kiss.

While watching Tenenbaums, I wanted to pay attention to the positives of the film. While I laughed hard at a few scenes and was close to tears during others, the ending betrayed the excellent 30 or so minutes ahead of it (from just before Richie's suicide attempt to just before the fumbled wedding). It's during those last 15 minutes or so that it becomes a bit more of a trite and obvious mess. At the very least, I still consider Anderson an auteur and imagine his body of work will one day be a bit of a juggernaut. Still, I'm holding out for the day he begins working more like one of his influences and starts taking more chances, making shorts, and perhaps even working with less. If he cut the nice cameras, the ensemble casts, and pageantry, he'd still come up with something worthwhile and interesting. But I may be in the minority here.

Wednesday, October 17, 2007


All this time I've been making "Pokehercuntass" jokes when "Pocahaunted" was what I really wanted to say.

Sunday, October 14, 2007


Aaron Dilloway came by the store a few nights ago with copies of his new record, Infinite Lucifer, a one-sided remix of Bobby BeauSoleil's music for Kenneth Anger's Lucifer Rising. It's a bizarre suite of loops and noise and just what I've been wanting to hear of late. Speaking of Satanic music, my quest to track down the Witchcraft 70 score has been less than fruitful.

Thursday night, Erin and I met up with Robert and Aaron at Eve. Erin began wearing glasses for the first time in her life and the feedback has been positive (especially from me, obviously--she looks beautiful and natural). In terms of ambiance, Eve might be my favorite place to get drinks in town. Unfortunately, the drinks aren't great and their mojito is inconsistent, to say the least. There have been a few really fun times there, including Mike's birthday and a stop with Thomas.

Woof -- I'm watching A History Of Violence and the score is killing me. Rough stuff. Ominous music cued with ominous scenes for an obvious redundancy.

S&R have an opportunity coming up: a monthly gig at the Pig supporting and MCing for Starling. Hilarious! Apparently, they were trying to figure out how to prohibit people from taking them seriously and we came up. At the very least, we're down for November.

Saturday, October 13, 2007


Mark took the handkerchief from his shirt collar and twisted the salty rag over the pail. The pail was now half-filled with salty water. Mark was so thirsty, he wanted to drink the salty water from the pail to quench his awful thirst. Later, Mark decided that after his work was done he would sit in the shade of his back porch and eat some pretzels. Washing down the salt with a cool hand-squeezed lemon-and-seltzer, Mark would imagine winding the day down and reeling in that old sun.

13 years earlier, Mark was so high on grass that he couldn't handle his rake in the autumn yard. The cold sun beat down on the man. And the cold beat the man. And he sighed, "I'm a slave to a hooker."

A History Of Witches, a book about Mark's exes, would soon reach its final draft. Mark removed his sunglasses and garden gloves and rubbed his eyeballs with his right hand thumb and middle-finger. The tension behind Mark's eyeballs was unreal.

"Unreal..." Mark said, and then lost balance for a moment. "Do you want unreal???" Mark stared off into the other side of the yard. Then Mark removed his eyeballs. happy halloween

Friday, October 12, 2007


Thursday is the end of my work week and I'm chomping at the bit to get it over with. I may catch a beer with a friend this evening and come back to hack out the Exotique and Soul Club posters. Soul Club is fast approaching their one year anniversary and we're doing a large fancy poster for it and possibly some shirts.

Writing more sounds fun but the sun just came out and the dog needs a walk.

Tuesday, October 09, 2007


Feeling slightly beat at the moment, I wouldn't exactly be disappointed if this becomes an early night. The weekend was fantastic; a good mix of business and pleasure. The business was easy: got some work done on the Brent Van Daley book, recorded a fair amount, and time in the shop went by quickly. On the other hand, the pleasure was pretty grand.

On Saturday, Erin and I found a radical hill near our house, beginning at the corner of Pamona and Sunset. Until today, I had no clue that it happens to be the second-highest point in town. We almost crossed town going downhill, not breaking until we ran into a private block party. Upon plateau, we found an easy way back and took the hill again. The way the streets are arranged, one could coast in any direction for block after block and block. Very invigorating! The best part was listening to Erin scream with glee every time we rounded a sharp corner.

Soul Club was the night before. Aaron and I met up at his new pad and chatted for a bit, got our haze on and walked to the Pig. Downstairs at the Eightball, we each had a Guiness (on tap and excellent) and waited for Robert to show. His birthday started at midnight and we celebrated with velvet cake and more Guiness before taking it upstairs where things got jumping somewhat quickly. We sat in the back and marveled at Breck's selections whilst chatting with Mike, Lianna, and her sister, Amber. It was one of those rare nights when excess was balanced with a number of other factors to make a fun, messed up evening.

Saturday, October 06, 2007


Would your best friend describe you as a bachelor with babies? Did you drive a killer 'Cuda around Dead Man's 45° Angle? Are you the kind of person that will spend an hour jerking off to photos of transsexuals (but didn't know!?)? Have you ever considered how angry Birkenstocks must be at Crocs?

If the answer to any of these questions is YES, then there may be a job position waiting for you at Banana Republic!


It's a real gem of a day out and I'm surprisingly not-too-groggy after an incredibly logy start. Erin and I slept horribly: Chacho's stomach was so loud it woke us at 5am and I spent a half hour with him outside as he paced the yard and took a couple leaks. Next door, construction continues: hammers, chainsaws, and loudmouths all before 8am!

Last night, Scott stopped over followed by Robert and both stayed for a few hours to smoke and laugh. We discussed a wide range of subjects before Brian began reading translations of a story I wrote in spanish. Using Altavista's Babelfish to run it through five different languages and back to english, the results were outright hilarious. To see the final translation, go here:

Erin and I made dinner (a "real pro-looking meal" quoth Robert). Though I promised myself I wouldn't become one of the people that posts pictures of their dinners and how they made them, I'll cheat and just say what we had: cous-cous, chicken, and a fancy portobello cap. To quote ACL, "when you have nothing else, at least there's good food." Of course, I was incredibly hungry and hazed out so I scarfed the fuckin' thing in a matter of minutes.

Also, I drank my first Samichlaus Bier. Dubbed "the world's most extraordinary beer", this sucker is 14% alcohol and made once a year on December 6. It's aged for ten months before bottled and can be kept for years. Thomas--if you're reading, find this beer! It's a unique beast. Read more here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Samichlaus

Town & Country is getting some play lately after a long absence. Their last album, Up Above, didn't do a lot for me but methinks it was just a matter of me catching up to its sound. Along with some of Gavin Bryars work, T&C were the first group to seriously introduce repetition as a viable form of creativity in my own music. Like the minimalist drone music they developed after playing and touring with Tony Conrad, I imagine some of the songs from their albums prior to Up Above require quite a bit of endurance to play. That all their albums are recored entirely with acoustic instruments and no samplers is a real feat.

Conversely, after a recent survey of some of my past works, I'm inspired to record a short album of sampler-based tunes. Using rhythm tracks I made over a year ago from sampling myself pounding on tables and friends flicking lighters and clapping, I'll sample short organ and guitar phrases to make loose compositions inspired by some of the 1960s and '70s soundtrack music I've been so damn hot for lately.

Friday, October 05, 2007


Lazzar leeds Shana into the largest chamber of the factory through a
steel door labeled "Mantenga la puerta trabada. Ningún alimento" under
a black stenciled skull and crossbones. They stand on a metal balcony
overlooking several huge open vats of various liquids with Lazzar's
men huddled behind him.

LAZZAR: He here is, where we the cheese does Cheddar of the cheese.

SHANA: The cheese Cheddar is entzueckendes, exactly same Munster then
more. I will sit at the bottom of time in tanière of the mine with a
spirits and certain cheese and in am thus much... agreeably.

LAZZAR: Conséquentement aprecía cheese Cheddar? This is well to
concludes mark, you that the words "or cheese Cheddar will hear
cheese" that it was pronounced of uomo.

SHANA: What is it only?

LAZZAR: Knights sail in it in tub of bathe of late!

SHANA: They cannot fight the hands of the law, "more leper prince"!


Reading an issue of Rolling Stone can be a fucking soul-crusher of a task. The latest issue, their infamous annual "Hot" issue, is the absolute worst: 142 pages of vapid tidbits. Kid Rock's cure for heartbreak? Devendra B. trading mix CDs with Lindsay Lohan? Celebrity might be a little lost on me, I must admit. To be honest, even watching eight minutes of David Letterman poking Paris Hilton about her jail stint was almost too much after seeing the Federline-taped youtube video of Britney high as a kite an entire week ago. It might taste like the whip for a moment but the hangover is the pits.

Meanwhile, a viewing of Lars von Trier's 1980 student film Nocturne yielded a positive experience: visually very beautiful, interesting soundtrack, and the dialogue wasn't nearly as bad as von Trier made it out to be in the commentary. Aside from The Five Obstructions, the two von Trier films I've seen (Breaking The Waves and Dancer In The Dark ) have made me uneasy to the point of near-illness, although for different reasons. Looking over his wikipedia entry, maybe it's time to give him another chance. How he didn't come up in a conversation with some pals about contemporary auteurs, I have no clue.

In between the last paragraph and this one, I read an interview with von Trier (http://www.signandsight.com/features/465.html) and it's blown me away a little bit.

Wednesday, October 03, 2007


Alarm clock or endurance test? I've either started waking up earlier or the construction next door won't allow for sleeping in. Speaking of the construction, there are two huge pits where a couple of condo basements will soon be and they need some exploring before it's too late.

Robert told me about his recent trip to Chicago and how, even if it's not the place to be, he feels a need to get out of A2. He then said, "I really feel you should get out too." No shit. I've lived in Michigan the entirety of my life but our love affair was brief.

Recently, Aaron mentioned that one of the city's better-known DJs was planning to move to NYC and that we should usurp his position. Woof--becoming one of the next "top A2 DJs" isn't exactly the advancement of place I'm looking for. This is a small city wih a low ceiling and I'm about ready to hurl.

A few places are on the mind but figuring out where next is should be soon. I'm holding out for the Pacific Northwest but StL and it's cheap living crossed my mind too. Erin and I are up for anything

Monday, October 01, 2007


Oof -- Brakhage could make a film. The best news I've heard recently is that four Brakhage films from the 1950s are included in the release of Kino's second volume of avant-garde films. My heart sank a little when I read this at the bottom of Kino's page on the set: "Music composed and performed by Sue Harshe, Larry Marotta and Jon C. Mirsalis."

Two of the films were made with sound: 'Interim,' Brakhage's first film, was scored on piano by James Tenney, and 'The Way To Shadow Garden' has an "unsettling soundtrack of whistles, creaks, and moans" similar to that of 'Desistfilm.' If the other two are given scores by one of the aforementioned composers, oh baby, shoot me. It's an artistic tampering of the worst kind.

The artwork for the latest AASC mix was finished this evening. Recording has been going well and I may have a little EP by winter but I don't want to speak too soon. Also, "Goodbye My Friend" by Guido & Maurizio De Angelis is the whip.