Cult of the Clouds

If you happen to reside in the fair City of Wind, or are traveling through Chicago tomorrow night, you should check out the show taking place at the Empty Bottle. Headlining are Cloud Cult, mC's favorite new environmentally friendly band. (Actually they're the ONLY environmentally friendly band we're aware of, but Cloud Cult is still our fave.) They power their recording studio via geothermal energy, distribute all of their production materials from recycled sources, and donate all of their concert proceeds to environmental charities. On top of that, their music is simultaneously rocking and beautiful.



Their live show is said to be of the highly enjoyable variety, and tickets only cost $8 (the new album is dubbed The Meaning of 8, but we're only speculating a connection). Hope to see you there.

-mC

I've got another one for the DSM-IV

This might be depressing.

I think I have a disorder that I have never heard of before. I have named this disorder “Loss of Shared Memories Syndrome” (LOSMS).When you lose your only sibling, you lose all of these memories that only you two knew about. It is a terrible feeling and I can’t think of anything worse. Jason was the only one who knew certain things about our family, and the only one I could talk to about certain things. LOSMS would be impossible to treat, however. No amount of medication could treat it. It would be like one of those scary personality disorders that takes years of psychotherapy to even be touched. And even then, the person is still gone.

Oh, I also have a rant I have been bottling up……

When people find out that my brother died, the non-timid ones will say “Do you mind if I ask how he passed?” I am really sick of the horrified expression on their faces when I tell them. For some reason their expressions really bother me. It IS horrifying, so why does that bother me so much? It’s confusing because I couldn’t even tell you how I would want them to react. It’s like there is this fucking universal expression for this situation, and I want to smack people that do it.

Some words of advice - if you are ever around anyone that lost someone very close to them, don’t say any of these things:
- He’s in a better place (where?!)
- At least he’s not in pain anymore (He wasn’t in pain, fucker!)
- It was his time (this is the WORST one. It was NOT his time)
- God wanted another angel (WHAT?!)
- There is a reason for everything (Ok, tell me the reason for this)

There are more but I’m done writing about that. Apparently I am still in the “angry phase”.

Speaking of the angry phase, that Kubler-Ross model of grief is crap. I remember learning it in Abnormal Pysch or some class and thinking ‘yes – that makes sense’. Whatever. It’s crap.

Sorry about my babbling, but I thought that the people who read this might want to hear my rant and learn about this new syndrome that I believe I have. I think this could be a real thing. Or maybe I’m just fucking depressed.



By the way, The Monster Squad will be coming out on DVD on July 24, 2007. Jason and I were obsessed with this movie.

Cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs

Following is a transcription of an email exchange between myself and our friend, Schrowe, that I recently stumbled upon and thought some of you may enjoy. I sure do....

----Original Message----
From: Jason S
Sent: Thursday, September 21, 2006 9:58 AM
To: Jason H
Subject: Cereal Lover

Being that I know you’re a Cereal Lover, I just had a Cereal Epiphany I think you should hear.

Honey Nut Cheerios are f*cking Awesome! I just had my first bowl in probably 15 years, and I’m startled by their All-American Goodness and perceived wholesomeness.

Just thought I’d give you a heads up. Along with Stander, these are definitely on my “What’s Hot in September” List.

Schrizz

---

From: Jason H
Sent: Thursday, September 21, 2006 10:03 AM
To: Jason S
Subject: RE: Cereal Lover

Dude, I got a box o HNutCheerios in my cupboard (cupboard? I don’t think I’ve ever said cupboard before.). So yes, they are fucking awesome. Along with Cap’n Crunchberries, Fruity/Cocoa Pebbles, and (newly joining the list) Cocoa Lucky Charms, they are my faves.

Dude, seriously, cereal is so fucking good. GOD I want some fucking cereal now…

Hova

---

From: Jason S
Sent: Thursday, September 21, 2006 10:11 AM
To: Jason H
Subject: RE: Cereal Lover

Cup-Board, that’s a weird one. Yet we pronounce it as Cu-Berd….. what are we, french?!

Yeah, Cereal is the shit…. You should get one of those teeny lil’ Sky Mall fridges to store milk in, and then have a file cabinet with all your cereals in (Alphabetized, of course).

Mine go, HNC, Cocoa Puffs, Peanut Butter Crunch. Was oddly never a fan of the Pebbles Genre (Fruity or Cocoa)….. poor Fred just wanted Barney to stop messing with his shit….remember when Fred said “Enough” then straight capped Barney…. I think in the next scene Fred was with Betty in a volcano heated hot-tub….. he knew Betty was by-far the hottest on the show….digress….

Explain these Cocoa Lucky Charms to me…… are the marshmallow’s all chocolate now?

J

---

From: Jason H
Sent: Thursday, September 21, 2006 10:25 AM
To: Jason S
Subject: RE: Cereal Lover

No no no, duder, the non-marshmallow part is chocolate. The marshes are all the same. So instead of healthy wheat/oat/whatever-the-non-marshmallow-part-is, it’s chocolate. It’s almost too good.

There are some healthy cereals that are good too. That Smart Start shit is not bad. And I always kinda liked Life or Chex or whatever. Never really into Kix, though. And I used to dig Raisin Bran, but there was always too much bran and not enough raisin, despite the 2 scoops bullshit. Corn Flakes are gross; Frosted Mini-Wheats aren’t terrible.

Never had this one, though:

I love google image searches…

J

---

From: Jason S
Sent: Thursday, September 21, 2006 10:30 AM
To: Jason H
Subject: RE: Cereal Lover

Ahhhhhhhhhhhh blue balls.

I heard a trick to cure ‘em that I used a few times in High School. So when the balls get blue….. and now that you’re married you’ll never have to do this exercise, but there is a simple trick that cures it pretty fast.

You go up behind a parked car, bend at the knees, and try to pick up the back of the car….. basically you’re trying to initiate a hernia…. By doing this you get the blood flowing down there. And voila, blue balls no more.

I wrote a big article about this, in Nerd-linger Quarterly Magazine, the August Virgin-4-Life issue.

Schrizza

---

From: Jason H
Sent: Thursday, September 21, 2006 10:41 AM
To: Jason S
Subject: RE: Cereal Lover

I had a subscription to Nerdlinger Quarterly. I was Editor-in-Chief for most of my freshman year.

Holla,

Hova

am i blogging right?

so my buddy jason basically hooked this up for me. props!
i really dig the mission statement and cool/fun/sad stories everyone is sharing.
its so great since it takes me from my obsessive itunes, turntable lab, and bleep.com purchases.
look ma! im not buying anything!
so to start ill talk about 3(of the 8) albums ive bought since monday.

1. fujiya and miyagi- transparent things
its so cute. im a sucker for anything "kings of convenience"ish or "erland oye"esque.
and they're singing about reeboks and heaven and broken bones and shit.
its pefect 7am music, snappy, but not intrusive.
heres their video, if its not directed by michel gondry someone owes him some $


2. porno for pyros-gods good urge
its amazing. and i really dont care for perry farrels voice, but its all so sweet. hes got neo-hippie DOWN.
i had the cassette when i was younger, and its always reminded me of june, so thankfully, i remembered to buy it again, rather than search for the tape. "kimberly austin" still makes me think of underage drinking. heres the video for "tahitian moon"


3.chromeo-fancy footwork
this stuff can make you feel like the hippest most with it 29 yr old ever, then again, it could embarass the hell out of you in front of your family. my 22 yr old nephew asked if it was "that guy that sings 'word up' " and my seven yr old nephew asked me to turn it down, then off.
i like it. the album is way cheesy. it even has a song dedicated to mamas boys.
if you know and like chromeos first album "shes in control" youll dig it.
theyll be in town july 15 with flosstradomus at metro, they are fully live too, that vocoder is too much.
oh and thanks to my new friend at gangstarobot.com for hooking me up with the album 2 weeks before release, and free!
title track video-


so relate with me when i see you about these wonderful albums, or at least the videos.

Ronson. Dig it.

So the Mark Ronson release, Version, finally drops stateside today. Everyone should show him much love and go purchase it. Or just steal it. Whatever.

Anyway, my favorite is his version (get it?) of Radiohead's "Just". I can't get enough of it. You just can't fake that funk. And the music video for it is equally enjoyable:



Actually, the Radiohead video for the song happens to be the greatest music video of all time, so here it is so you can enjoy that too:



More later....

Important Realization

I've come to a very critical realization at this point in my life: approximately 90% of my days, I eat sandwiches at lunch and pizza for dinner.

Don't really have a point here, just trying to get mC's one loyal reader off my back.

Oh, this website is the greatest website. Ever. Enjoy those. And this:



Seriously, my entire generation must be fucked in the head.....

Enjoy things, as Eggz would say....

Picking Up Where 2006 Left Off

So here we are, not even a third of the way into a youthful 2007, and we already have a hefty handful of candidates for Best Album of the Year. Last year was a good one for music fans, with brilliant albums by TV on the Radio, The Roots, and Silversun Pickups topping the list.

Here's what's been spinning in middleCoast offices since January (in some undisclosed, particular order):

The Arcade Fire, Neon Bible
The sophomoric effort from the Canadian septet (although, they tour with 10 members and an omnipresent hurdy-gurdy) is a beautiful, bittersweet testament to this modern life. All the frustration and angst sitting contently side-by-side with all the fascination and joy of a conscious human being living on this continent. The track "No Cars Go" leaves us with the repetitive line, "Between the click of the light/And the start of the dream", reminding us of that space before sleep, when the thoughts of the day become clear, and then are almost immediately lost into our subconscious. Neon Bible helps us hang on to them a bit longer.

Peter Bjorn And John, Writer's Block
(Although mC had an import copy of this album way back in December (thanks, Jess), it technically wasn't released stateside until February, so we're counting it on this list.) Writer's Block may very well be the most inherently enjoyable album we've ever heard. And "Young Folks" has to be the best single of the year, even given the bevy of talented artists providing us with solid tunes detailed in this list and elsewhere. We can't wait to see this Swedish trio live at Lollapalooza - if their live performance is half as smile-inducing as their album, we're in for a treat.


Bloc Party, A Weekend in the City
Another quality sophomoric album from a gifted band that gave us a promising debut, AWITC deftly glorifies all the apprehension and trauma of being a teenager, telling us to never forget what it's like. Bloc party dance-rocks with the best of them, and musically the album soars. Lyrically, they stumble through Sudoku references, and claim on "Waiting for the 7.18" that "If I could do it again, I would climb more trees/I'd pick and I'd eat more wild blackberries". Take it or leave it, perhaps, but we'll take the lush arrangements and leave the Rebel-Without-a-cause-angst in high school.


The Good, The Bad, and The Queen
A supergroup in the truest sense of the compound word, TGTBandTQ (sorry, that's unnecessary) reunites super-producer, DangerMouse, with Blur/Gorillaz frontman, Damon Albarn, who now join forces with Clash bassist, Paul Simonon, Verve guitarist, Simon Tong, and Africa 70 drummer, Tony Allen. The result is at once a throwback and a futuristic landscape - pop music from the year 3000 circa 16th century - replete with all of DangerMouse's signature blips and bleeps, and Albarn's unceasingly British view of post-modernity.


The Shins, Wincing the Night Away
Back with more of the best shoe-gazer pop ever made, The Shins continue to make girls look twice at the nerd sitting alone in the in the back of class reading The Dharma Bums instead of paying attention, and for that we at mC are eternally grateful. The Shins may not be breaking any new ground with Wincing, but they build upon the foundation they've established with Oh, Inverted World and Chutes Too Narrow, and advance their own indie rock standard.


Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, Some Loud Thunder
The third sophomore album on the list, blogosphere darlings Clap Your Hands Say Yeah do everything in their power (with help from producer David Fridmann, of Flaming Lips cred) to move their sound somewhere new. Where they go stays inherently CYHSY thanks to Alec Ounsworth's distinct vocals: earnest, resolute, and, of course, barely in tune while heartbreakingly endearing. Recalling shades of The Velvet Undergound through a number of the jangly, intentionally distorted tracks, CYHSY has an apparent desire to make listeners feel uncomfortable in some way. On "Love Song No. 7", Ounsworth wails, "We're safe and sound/So safe for now", but we feel anything but. Even on the most radio-friendly "Underwater (You and Me)" the yearning for escape permeates: "Upon an endless trail of moonlight/They'll never realize that we have gone/We have dropped right out of/Out of sight." Bittersweet hope, perhaps, that somewhere, some place there exists something better...

With new albums out already now by Kings of Leon, Amy Winehouse, and LCD Soundsystem, and albums still to come in the next couple months from Wilco and Bjork, 2007 is shaping up to be a stellar one once again. Enjoy.

One take on Virginia Tech

This is from a few days ago...

Man, watching the news come in today at work about the Virginia Tech shootings was sure, well, it wasn't shocking, that's for sure. Disturbing, but not shocking.

A few weeks ago, here in Seattle, a 40 year old psycho walked into the architecture building at UW, and killed his ex girlfriend, who he was stalking, with a gun, and then turned it on himself.

What makes this story even more local to me is that the same guy hounded a girl I know on myspace. She blew him off but what if she hadn't? It's a long shot that anything would have happened but certainly not outside the realm of possibility.

Once the dust (for lack of a better euphemism) begins to settle, there will be a lot of questions.

Why wasn't the campus evacuated? Why did it take the university 2 hours to send any kind of message to the students, a message that could have prevented perhaps all but 2 of the murders? Why did the police assume the first 2 shootings were isolated (especially considering that they thought he was after his girlfriend but didn't find her. Should have raised an eyebrow that he was out on campus looking for blood).

Sure, fair enough. The university fucked up majorly here. the university's policies, slow reactions time, may have allowed this to turn into tragedy. but campus security tightening up isn't going to prevent this from happening again.

There will be a lot of questions, and the answers may come in the form of the chief of the university police being fired (someone definitely has to take some responsibility), a changed policy about ordered evacuations in the event of violent crimes, or some other such measure that doesn't really solve the problem.

i think that problem is, here, it's a real surprise... GUNS!!!

...Well that, and the overall decline of civilized society.

But let's focus on guns.

This crime would not have been possible without a gun. In fact, if he'd gone in the dorm to kill his girlfriend with a knife, and not found her there, he might not have risked trying to kill anyone. With a knife, you actually have to demonstrate some skill or you'll get yourself killed. That is, when you're trying to kill someone, a deterrent.

Anyway, the U.S. doesn't have the worst murder rates in the world, but the countries that do are seriously fucked up, like places where near genocide is taking place, and we're not far enough behind to be proud.

The psycho that killed his girlfriend at UW, he stole a gun to commit the crime. He walked into her office to do it. Circumstances would have been more difficult without a gun.

Sure, America's a bit on the vicious side. Mainly, we have a lot of really really poor people and we have a fair amount of losers (since everyone's competing) and losers and poor people commit violent crimes. That's just what happens.

But these are really difficult socioeconomic type problems and they're not going to be solved.

Unfortunately, because literacy rates are so bad, no one can read the second Amendment, either, and so the gun problem will never be solved. (basically, the reason in the second amendment for bearing arms, the antecedent, to keep an army around in case the british come to get us, it doesn't exist anymore. the british are actually less likely to come and get us than just about any country on the entire fucking planet. for some reason, they actually like us, or at least their government.

Anyway... therefore, the predicate, the right to bear arms, doesn't make sense. this is called english grammar. we learned it in third grade).

So mainly because most of the people in the world are retarded, we should get used to seeing this kind of thing happening again. There are going to be more of them.

TV on the Radio at the Metro, March 13th

Last Tuesday night, TV on the Radio put on a show. How to describe the exhibition is something I've been failing miserably at for the past seven days. How to describe the sound of TVOTR - especially of their latest release, Return to Cookie Mountain - is something I've been failing at for the past seven months. So with that in mind, let's see if I can fail miserably one more time.

(Disclosure: I've been waiting a few days to write this in the hopes that the brain cells killed by the Jack & Cokes consumed the night of the show would have been resurrected by now. No such luck.)

(Disclosure #2: I don't really know names of songs. For that matter, I don't really pay attention to lyrics. It's a shame, really, especially since once I do get around to figuring out lyrics to songs I like, they happen to be rather brilliant. But I go strictly on tone; if I like the tone or feeling or vibe of the music - with the vocals strictly as another instrument - then I tend to like the band. Then, usually months later, I'll open my ears and eyes to the lyrics. Clearly I'm a professional rock critic.)

(Disclosure #3: In reference to Disclosure #2, this really only applies for rock music. For Hip Hop, lyrics always seem to come first. But that's a whole other blog...)

So I would tell people, "Hey, I'm going to see TV on the Radio tonight" and the standard response was "Who?" and then "What do they sound like?" Normally I tend to be talented at the Familiar-Artist-meets-Other-Familiar-Artist comparison game. For example, "the new Clap Your Hands Say Yeah album sounds like The Velvet Underground meets Talking Heads". Get it? Right, well that doesn't come so easily for me when referring to TVOTR for some reason. I don't even know what so-called genre they fit into. I've recently heard them called Art-Rock, whatever that means (as if denegrading all non- art-rock as non-artistic). And they don't seem to fit into the classic idea of what Indie Rock means - they sure as hell don't sound like The Shins.

Inherently, my inability to pigeonhole an artist automatically results in me holding said artist to a higher esteem. In other words, TV on the Radio is SO GOOD, that we don't even have a category to box them in. In a perfect world, we wouldn't have to categorize every damn thing we ever experience, but hey, we're humans. It's what we do.

That said, watching them perform live last week actually inspired - not a genre to neatly fit them in, necessarily - but at least an idea for the comparison game. Perhaps this will make sense to no one, but the thought that popped into my (aforementioned whiskey-soaked) brain, was: My Bloody Valentine meets Ray Charles. That's right - the only way I've figured out how to categorize TVOTR is to compare them to two other artists that no one has been able to categorize. While their sound reminded me vaguely of MBV, it was this comparison to Ray Charles that has stuck in my mind. There was something so uplifting, so elevating, so dynamic to the energy that I couldn't help feeling the emotions granted to believers in church, the stuff of Gospel music. (Disclosure #4: I realize that four-fifths of the band happens to be black dudes, but I promise that this isn't the reason I've associated them with Gospel.) But just like Ray Charles took Gospel and made it new - made it his own - so too does TVOTR create a new sound with what has come before. And really, that is all Art even is - take something old and make it new.

A good reason why TVOTR has the capabilities to do this is thanks to the amazing vocals. Vocalists Tunde Adebimpe and Kyp Malone compliment each other like peanut butter and banana - maybe not what you were expecting, but damn that's tasty. Their vocals come at you with an element of surprise, both the first time you hear their albums, and even more so live, when they somehow manage to mesh the yelps with the falsetto screams just as splendidly as they capture them in the studio. And that jolt feels like a call to action, or at least a call to pay attention.

No problem there. I think I may even go look up their lyrics.

Happy Birthday, My Friend

A few pics in honor of his birthday. These are from Jess's birthday party a couple years ago.

















Happy Birthday, J. We miss you and we love you.

Memories - Part 1

……Attn. JasonToo - I thought I’d do a separate blog rather than write in the comment section of your request…it may get slightly lengthy.

Many of my memories are from when we were younger, going through turmoil together, elementary school, middle/high school and then KU. Of course all the times I went on trips with Jas will (hopefully) be forever embedded in my mind – drunken nights in NYC, drunken nights in Chicago, drunken nights in KC, Florida, St. Louis – hmmm…. maybe that’s why my memories from our formative years are so much more clear to me. I will never have a bond like I had with him ever again in my life (I’m sure any close siblings can attest to that) and memories and pictures are all I have now. Let’s visit some of them:

(in no particular order – just random memories right now)

1. When I was 3 and told not to touch the soft spot on his infant head - I, of course poked it. He knew about this, we laughed about it, and I choose to believe this is what made him smart and witty.

2. Every Christmas Eve (until we were teenagers) we tried to stay up all night to catch our parents putting “Santa’s” presents under the tree. We always fell asleep around 2am with visions of Atari, Cabbage Patch Kids, G.I. Joes, Transformers, etc. in our heads. Then of course we would wake up the parents at 5:00am.

3. One Christmas during a slight sibling rivalry phase, I decided to be nice and get him a season pass to World’s of Fun. You should have seen the look on his face. I have a great picture of him hugging me after I gave it to him. He has liked me ever since.

4. We fought with each other, but always protected each other. (a general memory)

5. One day, in our shared bathroom, brushing our teeth, we looked in the mirror at the same time. My hair was wet and slicked back and his was short and we said (at the same time) “Ewww! We look like twins! MOM come here!!!”

6. The first time I bought alcohol for him and his friends (me -21, he – 18, still in high school) He was going to have sex with this girl at my place, and I talked him out of it. He REALLY liked me then. That’s what big sisters are for.

7. Going to his frat house when I had a fight with my loser ex-bf and him being there for me, telling me to leave the jerk. You were always right Jas.

8. Drunken dancing with Jas at The Brown Bear Brewing Company to Ice, Ice, Baby. For some reason that one sticks with me – this is definitely not the only drunken dancing we have done.

9.Him always trying to convince me that Peyton Manning was gay. (he hated winners)

10. With him in NYC, at around 4:30am, in a taxi, on our way from some bar, singing Luther Vandross’s (sp?) “Here and Now” at the top of our lungs. I think the cabbie wanted to throw us out.

11. At my wedding in Florida, he lost $200 in the ocean at night. I tried not to laugh but who swims in the ocean at night with 2 $100 bills in their pocket? (btw – he unbelievably found it on the shore with a flashlight some hours later)

12. Jas and I. The Strokes. Tiny venue in St. Louis. Best. Show. Ever.

13. New Years Eve (I think) going into 2001. Jas and I are visiting our Mom in St. Louis (different time than The Strokes Experience) and she agrees to drop us off near the Arch where there are tons of bars. We find some place, ring in the New Year, and end up at a casino until 6am or so. Conversation when we realize it is 6am:

me: Are you going to call mom to pick us up?
him: Yeah right – you call her.
me: she’ll be less mad if you call.
him: I don’t think so….
both: Let’s get a taxi.

My mind is exploding with memories right now and this is helpful to write them down. BUT is is 7:20pm and I would like to wrap things up at work (because I have been working so hard). I guess this could be Part 1.

Bye for now.

Three Months Later....Some Thoughts & Feelings

And my fear - a very real fear, I feel - is that my memory of him will fade, and all I'll have is the memory of the photographs of him. Already, looking at pictures, I close my eyes and try and remember the moment itself, rather than the photographic representation of the moment, and I struggle. I see the picture of him, not him. The pictures help and hurt at the same time.

Italo Calvino wrote a short story about a man that originally hated photography. He felt that if any moment deserved to be preserved in photograph, then every moment in life deserved the same; therefore you must either live your life in the most photographable way possible, or else consider photographable every moment of your life - believing that everything that is not photographed is lost, as if it had never existed. Eventually he ended up pursuing the latter thought, and became the obsessed photographer, finally photographing photographs as the only course that he had left.

I look at these pictures of Schrowe and I think, Maybe this is a bad idea - maybe I should never look at a photo of him again and do everything I can to preserve the memory of him that I have already in my brain. But I don't think our brains are designed with that capacity. Or at least, mine isn't. I need the photos. I wish I'd photographed more. I wish I'd walked around with a video camera or tape recorder at all times when I was around him. I haven't had enough. Even if it's the same conversation, I want to have it again. I want to laugh at the same jokes. I'm fine with that. Something. I haven't had my fill of Schrowe.

So another request: if you're up for it, please post any memory of him you can think of in the comments here. It'd help me. I think. Maybe it'd be helpful for others. I don't care if it's the lamest story ever, or if it's just a single sentence. I'd appreciate it regardless.

Sorry if this sounds like begging. I guess it's come to that. For me.

middleCoast is my support group. Like it or not.

I got this girl named Camry & she's a whore.

I drive a '95 Camry. Black. Just like this one + 200K miles. For a vehicle, she is the equivalent of a Japanese whore, but overall she is a whore that stills wakes up every morning and does the job.......so I guess I can't complain about the services.
Today after trudging through 10 in of snow the C-D.O.T. snow plows so kindly put half way up my door, I got into my Japanese pleasure-moto and started her up. NPR was on the radio and cool air was blowing out of the defrost. Brrrrrr...she was chilly but it felt good to be inside her. I could feel and hear her getting warmer.
I got out of my car to wipe the excess white/gray/brown snow off of the windows...ya know, clean her up a bit...make her look nice...real nice. As I was wiping off the windshield, something bizzare happened. Her windshield wipers started swaying back and forth, grinding across the ice covered windshield. I thought nothing of it, got in the car and attempted to switch the wiper knob to the stop position. I then noticed it was already in the stop position. Interesting. I restarted the car once, twice, three times...by this time she was HOT and ready to go....but still....the wipers kept swaying. Back and forth, back and forth. Well shit. Still gotta go to work. So I drove her.....all the way to school AND all the way back from school, wipers blazing. The friction of the blades on the dry windshield produces a sound similar to rubbing your face on glass. Just then, I realized.......I can't even get her wet. What? Why? Oh yeah, my wiper fluid doesn't work (there's a leak) so I can't even moisten her up to clean her off. Damn. I can't please the whore. Will she leave me? Why does she not work anymore? Did she catch a mechanical STD? Should i get her tested? I hope I don't have to. I hope she's better tomorow because I love Camry. I can't wait to enter her dark, warm insides tomorrow morning. Moist wipers or not.

Notes from a former hipster turned mom...

Damn do I feel old. Or just out of touch. When did this happen? When did Mommy trump Jennifer? Don’t get me wrong - being a mom is the best thing in the world. I wouldn’t change it for anything - not even those glory days of old. But sometimes I gotta wonder…what the hell happened? The money that I used to contribute to local bars and live music is now redirected to Gymboree and the Disney Store. Instead of those kickin black heels, I buy shoes that are good for chasing down the toddler carrying the glass jar of marinara sauce at the grocery store. Instead of displaying the treasures I’ve collected as I’ve traveled, my shelves display Dora’s playhouse and tea sets. Instead of the Record Bar on Friday night we visit Chuck E. Cheese’s. Instead of that great Wyeth painting, my walls display rainbows and horses and people that resemble potatoes with single eyebrows. I’ve completely come to terms with all of these adjustments. But I’m having a hard time with one. I drive a minivan. Damn things are just so practical. I’m okay with the fact that I own one, and when I’m with the kids I’m totally fine with it. But it is the one thing in my semi-new mom life that totally labels me a mom when I’m not with the girls. Even with the windows down and those kickin black heels on and the Black Angles blasting…I’m a mom. A mom with sunglasses that are sticky from the hands that just ate a fruit roll-up pushing them up on a tiny nose. But I’m a rockin’ mama. I’m proud that my preschooler asked if we could go see the Beatles some time. I love that when we talked about Band of Horses she got this smile on her face as she pictured a bunch of horses playing beautiful music. I’m proud that she loves to dance to MMJ’s “Off the Record” and wants to know why Bob Marley is telling her to Get Up, Stand Up. The hipster in me just won't die - it just has new priorities...and a new ride.

Turn Up Your Speakers

Everyone should listen to Peter Bjorn And John and be happy.



Go buy the album now.

No, Oh No, Not O'Neil's. Why? You Bastards!!!

They finally did it. I saw the newspaper clipping years ago, but I'd forgotten. Or I didn't care at the time. Or I was too sad to recognize its reality. But I saw it with my own eyes moments ago. They killed O'Neil's.

Much of my mid 20s and most of my initial grown-up paychecks were spent at this pub. A tiny little whole-in-the-wall basement sort of bar, smoke clouds filling the place from the floor to the 7-foot ceilings, dark as night even if you were there for lunch, scaring off the Michigan Avenue tourists, one of the older bars in Chicago, to be sure, the place had history. And narrow - wide enough for Mike or Bridget behind the bar, the regulars seated on their stools, and one person to scoot gingerly (or drunkenly) behind them to the four tables in the back. And in the warmer months we were lucky enough to have enjoyed the courtyard in the back - a sunny little haven away from the plumes of carbon monoxide filling our lungs when seated on the sidewalk.

It was as close as we ever got to our own version of Cheers. They did know our names. They knew that we wanted Budweiser bottles in the summer and Maker's Mark in the winter. And we knew their names. Hell, Senor Juevos even took Michelle out one time (which may have been the beginning of the end, but that's a different blog). And Michelle always asked where Jessica was when I only showed up with OtherJason. And we'd be so happy when we got the bill and we realized that they'd bought our last few rounds (despite having to pay for the previous 14) that we'd leave a monstrous tip, ensuring our enjoyment the next weekend.

Man, we would just destroy hours of our life in that place. It was a black hole. One time, on Jessica's birthday, I'd arranged for a limo to pick her up to bring her to the restaurant where I'd meet her. I had a couple hours to kill so I stopped into O'Neil's with Senor Juevos for a couple of pints. A couple of pints later I realized that my couple of hours were up, resulting in the need for me to sprint down Michigan Ave in order to beat the limo, which I'd just watched pass by. Why are you sweating? she asked. No reason.

It seems like an exaggeration, but I'm quite certain that one evening that turned into night included the consumption of a solid 24 bottles of Budweiser - between only myself and Juevos. A case of beer without noticing. Just a few trips upstairs to the men's room during commercial breaks of whatever basketball game happened to be on.

And now they're tearing it down, as it's on the ground floor of a 3-flat that is in the way of some new glass and steel condominium atrocity.

So a toast:

To OtherJason's famous comment about Bridget: "she's like....a woman". True indeed.

To Polkadottas.

To my $10,000 t-shirt.

To Michelle - best cocktail waitress-turned-friend-turned-MIA ever. We miss you, wherever you are.

To Mike - calm and cool bar manager, and he couldn't have been older than us.

To Bridget's St Pauli Girl Halloween costume.

To Happy Hour turning into Happy Midnight.

To the only bar in Chicago to have Leinenkugel on tap, giving us enough reason to drink Leinie drafts for years.

To Robert, for introducing us.

To countless lost nights with my friends - Jess, Amanda, Eggz, and Schrowe.

To Schrowe.

The Death of Customer Service; or How I Learned to Stop Worrying & Hate the French

As much as I whole-heartedly agreed with OtherJason's post ranting about the obnoxiousness that is Southwest Airlines, a new carrier has overwhelmingly taken the reigns as my Most Hated Corporation: Air France.

I'd always had my reservations about all those anti-Frenchy comments about how they are rude, or stinky, or how they smoke like Siberian chimneys, but now I am steering the bandwagon on its quest for Freedom Fries. THE FRENCH SUCK.

I'm saying this only with having experienced approximately 0.000000082% of the French population, but these were employees of Air France, and therefore representatives of the entire country.

Here's the story: I recently vacationed with my lovely wife in Italy. We had a fantastic time, of course, loving every bit of Italian history and culture and people. To get there and back, we flew Air France. Part of that trek was a layover in Paris - Chuck De Gaulle Airport. We booked our flight home to return from Rome to Paris, Paris to Chicago on a Monday. A month or so after booking the flight (on AirFrance.com) I received a call from AF stating that they were no longer offering the Monday flight from Paris to Chicago; our flight home would be delayed 24 hours. Their offer, over the phone, was that they'd put us up in a hotel in Paris for the night and we'd simply fly home the same time the next day. Well sure, I said, happy to add 12 hours in Paris to the vacation. I knew we'd be stuck at some airport Holiday Inn, but big deal. So the French-accented woman on the other end of the phone said to me: just go to the Air France Transfer Desk at the airport and they'll arrange everything for you. I said: can you email me something so I have some sort of confirmation? She said: oh, don't worry about that, you're all set in the system. A month later or so, I had to call Air France to update our passport information. A different French-accented woman on the other line, so again, I ask: is there something you can email me as a confirmation for the hotel. Again: no, no, I see it here, it's in the system.

And so now here we are at the Air France Transfer Desk. A brief 20-minute wait in line and now it's our turn: Hi, I'm so-and-so and here's my story and which way do I go to my hotel, and isn't everything wonderful? And here is the lovely Air France representative, typing, typing, typing, calling someone on the phone, typing, typing, typing, finally acknowledging our existence (insert your own snooty French-woman accent): No, eet eez not possible. Thees flight on Monday does not exeest. I know it doesn't exist, that's why you're putting us up at a hotel becuase you cancelled it. No, eet ees not our fault. Thees flight never exeested. REALLY??? Is that right? That's fascinating, because that's the fucking flight I booked with AirFuckingFrance.com before two separate Air Fucking France representatives assured me that I was in the fucking system and they knew that eet fucking eexseested. And some such words.

And so now the lovely Air France Transfer Desk Representative is going to the back office to speak with her supervisor. And the lovely Air France Transfer Desk Representative is gone for a solid 15 minutes. I'm not exaggerating, honestly. We were sure that she'd come back wiping croissant crumbs from her snot-nose after having taken her break. Meanwhile, smoke was fuming from my ears, I'm certain.

Oh, here she comes. Finally. And here she sits. And here she is typing. And here she is still typing and she still hasn't said anything to us. Still typing. Typing. Still no words. She hasn't even looked at us. Typing. SO CAN YOU PLEASE TELL US WHAT IS GOING ON? We have zee hotel for you now. Oh, well, eur-fucking-reka. Now, here we go, here's the apology and the offer for the upgrade to first class and maybe even the ticket voucher for our next trip. And more typing. And another phone call. And more typing. And one more phone call. And more typing. And finally, OK, here eez zee voucher for zee hotel, call zees number to have them pick you up. What??? Who have you been on the phone with??? Why don't you pick the phone back up and call them to pick us up? And more typing. And the phone call. And then, OK, zhere eez a shuttle bus right that way.

My turn: I'm sure you're a very nice person and all, but this is ridiculous. You've had us standing here now for over an hour after I was assured by TWO separate Air France representatives that all I had to do was come to the Transfer Desk and you'd take care of everything. That I was in the system. And now I stand here after you essentially call me a liar, that my flight never existed, and I see NO effort on the part of Air France to keep me, my family, or my friends as customers. NO attempt to alleviate the tension I'm feeling towards your organization. Why don't you go get your supervisor?

Same spiel to the supervisor. Her response? It was a mistake on the website where you bought the tickets. !!!!! I bought the damn tickets on AirFrance.com. Is that not a part of Air France? Are you not essentially blaming yourself??? Head-shaking No. Me again: I see Air France making absolutely no effort to keep me and my family and everyone I know as customers. SURELY, there are first class seats available on our flight home. Head-shaking No. Eet eez not possible. Really? Because you also told me that it wasn't possible that you would reserve a hotel for me and here I stand with a hotel voucher that you just handed me. Head-shaking No. Eet eez not possible. Really. Point-blank: you're not going to offer anything to keep me as a customer. Again, a head-shaking No.

Fascinating. Anti-customer service. Even the chicks that work in the double-wide at the 700 Sacramento tow lot give more of a shit about me than Air France.

And so now my request, a real-life boycott: please, for the love of all that is good, NEVER FLY AIR FRANCE, or if you're like me, any of its partners at SkyTeam, which includes ten airlines (Aeroflot, Aeromexico, Alitalia, Continental Airlines, CSA Czech Airlines, Delta Air Lines, KLM Royal Dutch Airlines, Korean Air and Northwest Airlines).

Now where are my damn Freedom Fries?

Alas, but you forgot one...

Very valid points my friends, but the tragedy in my eyes is the lack of a DVD copy for the classic film, BMX Bandits. I think it was Australian, but that may just be because it features a 15-year old Nicole Kidman practically unintelligible thanks to the unbroken accent. Nothing better than 3 teenagers foiling the plans of the evil bad guys, thanks solely to their kick-ass abilities on their kick-ass BMX bikes.

It also features a similarly kick-ass theme song by The Papers. Although, the chorus sounds a little ELO-ish. Enjoy. You-know-who would have.

Another great Flick

Yes! I always loved RAD, but I could hardly ever find it in the video store. So, I have a hard time remembering many parts of the film. I do recall the scene where he rides his bike off a ramp into a lake. Classic.

While I'm on the topic of great childhood movies, let me share "Over the Edge" with everyone. I was something like 12 years old, and up one Saturday evening watching some late night programming with Rhonda. Yes, I'm speaking of "USA Up...All Night". I don't know if that show is still on, but it was sweet because I could always watch some obscure flick that really made me believe you could drink your way through college or that all old horror movies were really comedies (not true: case in point Exorcist and Poltergeist). Funny story though, I was watching this movie at 1AM or so, and my phone rings. It's my buddy Schrowe calling to tell me about a movie he's watching. Yep, he was watching it too. So we watched it together, in separate homes, and we discussed the movie often. Nothing about the movie is over the top or visually impressive, but that is the point.

Over The Edge was awesome for a few reasons. (1) PLANNED COMMUNITIES: I thought this was a recent phenomena, but as the movie unfolds you see that it has been a parasite of culture for decades now. I firmly believe there are few things that rob us of our creativity and imagination more than a community, where everything material is at your fingertips and kids are confined to backyards and "play-dates" (2) kids being kids, I swear that some of the same stuff happened in Jo. Co. where I grew up, but somehow we never got caught. (2) Music: the soundtrack is full of late 70s and early 80s rock that still holds its own.

So rent it. I got it on Netflix a couple of weeks ago, b/c I was thinking of Jason. If it sucks...let me know. I haven't had a conversation about it in a while, and Jason was the only other person I knew who had seen it.

The Monster Squad vs. Rad

Ok. Either you know these 2 movies very well, or you have no fucking clue what they are. Rad came out in 1986, and was about a teenaged BMX racer named Cru Jones who tries to qualify for ‘the big race’ on ‘Helltrack’. The Monster Squad came out in 1987 and was about a group of kids who discover that all of the movie monsters (Dracula, Wolf Man, Frankenstein, etc.) are real and are trying to end the world. By today’s standards these movies are seen as corny, ridiculous teen flicks. But, in the 80’s – Oh My God – they were the shit.

When my bro and I would do the weekend dad thing after our parents divorced, dad would always let us rent 7 (that’s right – 7) movies for the whole weekend, especially if the weather was nasty. Guess what 2 out of the 7 ALWAYS were? Jas and I were completely obsessed with these movies, doing such things as getting ‘BMX’ bikes, and trying to form our own monster squad. We knew all the words (in fact if I watched them today, it would all come back to me, I’m sure) and even held tape recorders up to the TV to record the songs and best one-liners from the movies. Some lines that come to mind:

“Wolf Man’s got nards!?”
“Check it out guys! Cru’s gonna try and qualify for Helltrack!”
“It’s Scary Old German Guy’s house”

or something like that. Anyway, it’s 20 years later, and these movies still have not made it to DVD. Why not? I haven’t done much research, but there has to be a cult following somewhere (or at least I could start one). One of the last e-mail exchanges I had with my brother was actually about the distress we both felt about not being able to buy these movies on DVD. Oh sure, we would e-mail each other links to buy Monster Squad or Rad shirts, or other merchandise, but of course that is not the same. I have found them on VHS on various sites for sale – but the lowest price I’ve seen is like $35.00. For 20 yr-old VCR tapes?! No thanks, I’ll wait for the DVD.

So, a great mystery to me is - which one will be put on DVD first? And which one would I want to see first? And how can I go about making sure that these fabulous movies get put on DVD? I think I would be slightly more excited about The Monster Squad, but I bet Jas would prefer Rad. Either way it will be a fine day when I can go to Best Buy and pick these up.

A Memory

At the Hofbrau House in Munich, Germany. Dee-runk on Pilsners served in mugs the size of your noggin. And I have a large noggin. Been drinking said Pilsners all day. Since we arrived in Munchen. All we did, in fact. Beirgarden to Beirgarden. Liter to Liter. Buzz to tipsy. Drunk to wasted.

Left alone in some sort of back room. And there is a small rocking horse. And there is Schrowe. Giant beer mug in hand. Climbing on top of the small rocking horse. And rocking. And drinking. And singing. Singing his English "translation" of what the group of Italians we saw earlier were singing.

USA Sucks
Italy Rules!
USA Sucks
Italy Rules!

And a giant smile as big as his mug. Making his eyes squint so they may as well have been closed. A smile showing his teeth. Which was rare. And a definite sign he was happy.

Crazy Work Story

This is a blog I posted on myspace the other day. It occurred to me that this is the kind of story Schrowe would have ended up in, so I thought I'd post it here.

So last night I got drunk at work.

Wasted. Crunked.

My last install (where i go be a dork and set up credit card machines... which is actually more complicated than it sounds) of the day was at this total dive, and the kind of dive where everybody at the bar has their own stool and a bartender who's kind of like sam malone except punk rock and with boobs serves up all the booze.

So as soon as i get there, the bartender introduces herself. "hi, i'm sherri. i just broke up w/ my boyfriend, so you're going to do a shot with me."

it was an offer i couldn't refuse, except when i fast forwarded to my boss getting a complaint about me getting drunk on an install.

so i said let's raincheck until i'm done playing with electrical cords and then drink up.

so as soon as i get finished, she puts a shot in my face, and i'm much more receptive.

now, i'm supposed to train her, but she has so much shit going on that i can't really pin her down.

so as i'm waiting she pours some weird vodka drink w/ curdled bailey's that she'd made up. it was actually pretty good.

keep in mind i'm not paying for any of this.

she pours another, and another, and i think at least 2 more, and by that point i'm drunk. wasted. she's telling me about "tits off tuesday" where exhibitionists apparently start showing up around midnight and dropping trow and humping on the pool table. i imagine most of these people are 50 year old alcoholic dudes with liver spots all over their gorilla-esque bodies. i imagine that now, but then imagined a roomful of pornstars, in my drunken haze.

and i've somehow become both her "husband" and her barback AND i'm pouring drinks.

i don't know how this all happened, but there i was flipping drinks like cruise on cocktail. okay, not really like that. i actually had trouble pouring beers that weren't half foam. but anyway.

so after sanitizing the second load of dishes, my glasses totally fogged up in the steam, and it was like i finally wised up... and called my roommate and told him he had to come down immediately for free tits and free beer.

so for some reason i drove home wasted, and then we drove back (him behind the wheel).

we spent the next few hours drinking more free booze and chatting with the bartender who i think was using me to make her ex boyfriend jealous.

after my roommate got sloshed he convinced me to leave, i think concerned that i was going to try to hump sherri.

we went to wendys to grease out the ole plumbing for hangover protection.

it was the second time i ate wendy's yesterday by the way.

awesome.

Tokyo Police Club

I don't know if I intend on turning middleCoast into a music blog or not, but since no one else has posted anything in awhile...

This is Tokyo Police Club and I can't get enough of them. This was the last band that Schrowe turned me on to. Actually, and this is really odd to say, but he turned me on to these guys posthumously (really fucked up to say that about a friend instead of a medal of honor recipient or something). He mentioned them in a comment to Jared on Show Me Music (showmemusic.wordpress.com) as being better than The Killers. Just don't tell Brandon Flowers.

Anyway, the video is great too. Looks like something I would have made in high school. Assuming that in high school I had actually been cool. Or talented. Or not so paralyzed with angst that I'd actually left my bedroom. Enjoy.




-JasonToo

Best Albums of 2006

Well it's about the time of year for middleCoast to share with all its loyal readers our list of the Top 10 Best Albums of 2006. This would have led to a most heated debate between OtherJason and JasonToo, to be sure, but middleCoast is quite certain that an agreement would have been made on the following:


1. TV on the Radio - Return to Cookie Mountain
Just a brilliant display of musical talent from the NYC art rockers. Reminiscent of Kid A, from our anti-rock critic's point of view.

2. Gnarls Barkley - St. Elsewhere
Pop music as pop music should be. Here's hoping that DangerMouse's ADD can subside long enough to put together 14 more jams with Cee Lo.

3. My Morning Jacket - Okonokos
We realize that live albums shouldn't technically make album-of-the-year lists, but live MMJ is the best thing ever. Enjoy your rock bubble.

4. The Roots - Game Theory
Rap music is a bland and jaded commercial enterprise. Hip Hop is an art form mastered by The Roots. Game Theory is one of their most creative and enjoyable pieces yet.

5. Neko Case - Fox Confessor Brings the Flood
The soul of the New Pornographers gets to the heart of great singer/songwriter albums: that bittersweet ache actually feels good.

6. The Flaming Lips - At War With the Mystics
It's no Soft Bulletin, but who says it has to be? Wayne and the boys still make the best music for dying from a heroin overdose.

7. Wolfmother - Wolfmother
Stealing other bands' sounds has been the root of all rock music, so suspend your disbelief and rock your socks off.

8. The Black Angels - Passover
Texas psych-rockers make The Doors sound like The Beach Boys. Proof that drugs are way better today than they were when your parents were freakin out.

9. Band of Horses - Everything All of the Time
Shoegazers that power-pop with the best of them. Great melodies and great lyrics that can just as easily be great background music.

10. Silversun Pickups - Carnavas
From the quiet noise school invoking My Bloody Valentine, Pavement, and Smashing Pumpkins all at once, keeping it interesting upon every listen.


So we at middleCoast are well aware of the fact that we left off some albums that just as easily could've been ranked number one, or at least should all be number eleven: The Decemberists, Tokyo Police Club, The Changes, +/- (Plus/Minus), and Arctic Monkeys are all solid Honorable Mentions.

Also key to this list is the fact that, fortunately or unfortunately, mC is not a professional rock critic, and therefore does not receive every album ever released for free. We at mC have to actually purchase our music, so a number of potential Best of 2006 albums have not even been heard. Albums like the latest from Tom Waits, Bob Dylan, and Yo La Tengo may happen to be much better than the 10 listed above, but alas, we spent the money on beer instead.

That said, any artist or record company is more than welcome to supply middleCoast with free records for review. Most likely, they will immediately jump to the Number 1 album of the year.

-mC