I miss trips to the used CD parlor. I love Reno, but the used CD scene here is beyond dismal. Beyond. So what do I do for music these days? eMusic, Amazon MP3s, and Amazon Used CD’s in that order. My eMusic account nets me 50 credits a month. Not even a year ago almost any album on the site could be had for something between 9 and 12 credits. So thats something like 5 or 6 albums a month for less than $20. Some of the bigger labels have fucked with this ratio, but it’s still a great deal. The tracks are in MP3 format, legal, and have no DRM on board. The MP3s are usually in the 256 range. So…just short of CD quality. eMusic has a steady stream of new music and now and then adds some major label stuff…but if you are only in the market for Top 40, it’s probably not going to be your thing. Instead, it’s got a pretty dang good search engine and good ways to find artists that are similar to the stuff you like already.
Ok…so here is a list of stuff I’ve found that I totally dig.
The blues gods: Elmore James, Howlin’ Wolf, Muddy Waters, etc.
Black Mountain – heavy psychedelic stuff
Cracker – It’s Cracker. Not everything they’ve done…but a fine collection. Countrysides is amazing
Dave Alvin – Dave was the Blaster’s guitarist way back when but has gone on to a great career as purveyor of Americana
Heartless Bastards – Just go buy these albums. Seriously. One of my fave new female voices
Steve Earle – the ultimate Nashville Outlaw has carved out a late career of speaking the truth, no matter how ugly it is
Led Zeppelin – I added Presence and In Through the Out Door to my already hefty Zep list
King Khan (and the BBQ Show, and the Shrines, etc) – The best garage rock around
Patrick Sweaney – No idea how I stumbled on this…but damn…I LOVE his record
R.L. Burnside – the dirtiest gruffest blues on the planet
Roky Erickson – The new album with Okkervil River is devastating
And…the Warlocks, The Weepies, Slaid Cleaves, The Ponys, The Dirtbombs, Richmond Fontaine, Phosphorescent, and on and on. Seriously. Check it out.
Ye old Boing had a link to this the other day. This here, folks, is a trailer to the new documentary by dickhouse films (Johnny Knoxville’s production company)…and yes I said documentary. White trash observation is something of a hobby for me, and this film looks *right* up my alley. I’m stoked.
I remember the day I got the 12″ of this song. I remember playing it on my ancient turntable with my gigantic headphones on. Full volume. I remember the first listen to of the lyrics, the urgency, the barely controlled violence. I’ve always said that the Clash saved my life. And here it is the benevolence of Joe, the love of new music by Mick, the fury of Headron, and Paul Simonon’s call to reggae and beyond….
This is radio clash tearing up the seven veils
This is radio clash please save us, not the whales
This is radio clash underneath a mushroom cloud
This is radio clash
Margareth Thatcher on TV
Shocked by the deaths that took place in Beijing
It seems strange that she should be offended
The same orders are given by her
I’ve said this before now
You said I was childish and you’ll say it now
“Remember what I told you
If they hated me they will hate you”
England’s not the mythical land of Madame George and roses
It’s the home of police who kill black boys on mopeds
And I love my boy and that’s why I’m leaving
I don’t want him to be aware that there’s
Any such thing as grieving
Young mother down at Smithfield
5 am, looking for food for her kids
In her arms she holds three cold babies
And the first word that they learned was “please”
These are dangerous days
To say what you feel is to dig your own grave
“Remember what I told you
If you were of the world they would love you”
England’s not the mythical land of Madame George and roses
It’s the home of police who kill blacks boys on mopeds
And I love my boy and that’s why I’m leaving
I don’t want him to be aware that there’s
Any such thing as grieving.
Sunday afternoon bin and I took in the waning hours of the Nada Dada Motel Project. The project is a once yearly event that takes place at two “weekly” m(h)otels in Reno. The idea is that you rent a room for the week, set up your art (whatever it may be) and people come and browse. Because of the surroundings (the legendary El Cortez, and the less legendary Town House Motor Ledge) hijinks are bound to happen…are even *supposed* to happen. Since we got there a bit late, some of the crews were already cleaning up. Some highlights:
Joy Wong: a damn intriguing portraitist. Check her out.
Christopher Robin Blum: some nicely photoshopped photos. Here.
Christopher Umana: a terrifically talented illustrator. Here.
And yeah…the room of 1,000 dildos. Completely crazy. Oh…and the rose room. Even crazier. One thing that really struck both of us, however, was a room at the Town House Motor Lodge between two NadaDada rooms. Keep in mind that people continue to live in these spaces even during this art event. This room, full of boisterous teen somethings and perhaps an adult or two had a sign taped to the door…it said simply, “No Art Here.” Really? Isn’t that the modern definition of “art”? Sorta. Ish? I made bin take a surreptitious photo.
This past long weekend was one steeped in the arts for bin and I. Thursday we saw Up, Friday evening we saw Dick Dale, and Sunday we took in the NadaDada Motel art show. Amazing.
Dick Dale put on a pretty damn good show. He is 72, just recovered from cancer (a 2nd time) without the use of painkillers, and still capable of kicking out the jams. I’ve seen Dick a number of times and he was very much chattier Friday night than ever. He seemed to be having a complete ball playing older tunes (Miserlou of course), some of his tunes from his time in South America (Esperanza and Belo Horizante), oddball classics (The Hully Gully!), and even Hava Nagila (Hey!). I can’t believe he did trotted out The Hully Gully. Hilarious. Over the years he seems to have gotten over the fact that he really can’t sing and embraced it. Now, well…he is who he is. At those moment he locks into a groove and really plays, he is hard to beat. I’d go again in a heartbeat. Sharing that with bin was really something special.
I really have to demand that you listen to this track. It’s Codine by The Charlatans. The Charlatans are often credited with helping create the San Francisco fashion/music vibe of the mid 60′s. They rocked some amazing Victorian/Gunslinger outfits and had a strong connection with the emerging LSD culture. Dig it.
I gave up on the whole DJ as a line of work thing in ’89. Perhaps ’90. I saw behind the curtain. I saw where it was headed. And now, here we are, with Clear Channel cutting one “djs” voice up into little generic bits to be used in a dozen different stations. It’s been years since a DJ picked the music. Years since they actually touched a turntable or CD player, or cart machine. It disgusts me.
And yet, oddly, the following article gives me a jolt of joy. La Hora Mixteca is a show out of a tiny station in Fresno. It’s run bilingually in Spanish and several Mixtec languages. The DJ is a DJ. He plays music that his listeners want to hear. He broadcasts advice, community news, and is a sign of life for the lowest rung of the Immigrant Laborer pool in California: the Mixtec Indians. The article and the work being done make me want to cry. In the best of all possible ways.
This here is my favorite live song from the entire Nirvana catalog. Where Did You Sleep Last Night aka Black Girl aka In The Pines is widely attributed to Leadbelly, but pre-dates him. Wikipedia even pushes the original folk song back to the 1870s. Kurt makes the song scary and sad and lonely…just like it should be.
