Burn, Don't Freeze

Thinking back to my Sonic Youth-inspired post of a couple weeks ago, I wonder what the influence of married couples within bands has to do within longevity. Sonic Youth has one, obviously. So do a couple other long-running bands, Yo La Tengo and Stereolab are the first examples that come to my mind. YLT and Stereolab might be a record or two past their primes (as I thought SY was a few months ago) but they have all had long careers making consistently good albums. Considering that most people, including myself, imagine working with their mate as being too much of a good thing, I kind of find this hard to believe. But it seems to work in the rock and roll sense. I've had a couple old girlfriends who were in bands, and I at the time wanted nothing more than to be on stage and play tambourine in the background.

Speaking of bands, I was crushed two days ago when I heard that Sleater-Kinney had broken up. Though I don't think they've ever reached 'Number One Band of the Moment' status in my head, they've always hovered around the top five to ten. Six great albums, continuous musical growth, a great live show, what more could you want. From the post riot grrl pop of Dig Me Out to the political screeds of One Beat to the epic bombast of last year's The Woods, they have cemented their place in music history. Their second-to-last ever concert is the first day of lollapalooza, I'm debating whether it's worth the 75 or so dollars or whatever for the one day pass, since I'm being forced to miss the next two days. If you haven't heard much of them, or only have heard a few songs from my Best of '02 and '05 CDs, please give them a shot. I know I gave a big speech about how it's better to burn out than fade away, and this seems like the perfect time for S-K to do just that, but it doesn't make it any easier to take.

Speaking of things ending too soon, I've created a petition to bring back naterohan.com. Half my hits were coming from there anyway. Obviously I made a spelling error, it should be 'enlighten' instead of 'enlighted'.

Speaking of spelling, I watched the National Spelling Bee Finals a few weeks ago. Awesome job by everyone; glad the Canadian girl didn't win, though it was very odd when she was whistled for a foul on Dwayne Wade in the last round. I remember back when I was in eighth grade, my last year of spelling bee eligibility. I fucked up in my school's spelling bee. I spelled illustrated as i-l-l-a-s-t-r-a-t-e-d like a fucking idiot. Obviously I wouldn't have made it past the regionals, thanks to one now-married FFL (friend-for-life), but still. I even was a recent subscriber to Sports Illustrated magazine at the time. I choked, plain and simple, but at least I didn't mess up on an easy word like antipyretic. That would have been embarrassing for sure.

In other news: Last weekend the Intonation Festival was great, I never realized that I'd enjoy hip-hop acts live so much, especially in such a non-threatening environment (aka 97% white). Ghostface, Rhymefest, the Streets, and Lupe Fiasco were all awesome. Jon Brion stole the show with his multi-layered solo act, however. I also spent fifty dollars on beers. The weekend before I was in Madison, WI, where the drinks are cheap, and I found out I can still pass as a student with my 1997 student ID, even though I had a worse haircut than at present, if that is possible.

expletive deleted

Some days I bring my "A" game, the world is my oyster and I am king. Today was not one of those days. I don't like to complain, I prefer the silent sulking method.

But:

At lunch today I saw a bunch of people leaving for the day. I was informed that they were all going to the Cubs/Brewers game; sitting in the executive box and entertaining a couple clients. This sort of thing happens once in awhile, I usually resign myself in thinking that I'm not executive-important enough to be invited along.

But:

1. I knew several clients had cancelled, meaning extra tickets were available.
2. The Cubs were playing my #1 favorite baseball squadron, the Milwaukee Brewers, which nearly everyone knows.
3. One of the people invited along was the brand new intern, who a) doesn't care much about baseball b) is here for two months and then never working here or in our entire industry again, and c) has already been taken out for three lunches and now the fucking baseball game despite he's only been here for six days, while yours truly in 17 months has reaped the corporate rewards of exactly two beers and a trip to Ft. Wayne, IN. He's better looking, 5 years younger, and much friendlier than I (obviously), so maybe he deserves it.

I spent the rest of the afternoon in full sulk mode, listening to Bob Uecker over the interweb calling the Brew-Crews 5-4 victory. A brief half-hour milkshake run in the 5th inning as the only exception. I also closed some businessy-type deals that would've made fucking Alec Baldwin circa Glengarry Glen Ross proud.

I went home, decided to get a haircut, just a trim, to make myself presentable for my sister's wedding in a few weeks. I waited a solid 35 minutes, then clearly explained to the hair-cutter-person what I wanted.

But:

Apparently when I said "thin out and texturize the back and sides with a razor-comb" is was interpreted as 'grab a electric shaver and buzz off six inches of hair, but make sure you do enough damage that it's not possible to salvage my dignity by neither keeping the rest long or cutting everything short' . I was left with a cool haircut from perhaps 15 years ago, long all over except the back and sides, except the long hair is long enough to hang over and hide the back and sides, looking semi-normal until the breeze from an air-conditioning vent blows. NO, fuck it, I can't even properly describe it. It looks weird and horrible, especially from the back. Nearly ten months of avoided hair-care professionals, now I know why.

However, I got the haircut for free, since it was so fucking bad. Hooray me!

2 glasses of scotch down, how many left to go?

Confusion is Next

I'm always been an advocate of the theory that it's better to burn out than fade away. The Rolling Stones, Woody Allen, Elvis Costello, Tom Wolfe, David Bowie, R.E.M., Martin Scorsese, U2, Bob Dylan, add some more to the list. All should have quit while they were ahead. That's the reason everyone still loves the Beatles, because we weren't subjected to The Beatles Do Disco! in 1977. The best thing that ever happened to Led Zeppelin was their drummer choking on his own vomit, and they were already pushing the limits. Granted there may be rare exceptions, but most of these are manufactured by fans and the press, i.e. a five-star review of the latest Rolling Stones album.

It's hard to blame the artists, really. They need to make a living. And, unfortunately, their fans, aging rapidly themselves, can never simply walk away. Why would the middle-aged Stones fan spurn A Bigger Bang in order to buy the Arctic Monkey's LP instead? If a Rolling Stones' fan admits that they no longer are able to make a great album (This is something they should have realized in 1973), do they not also realize their own mortality? Not to mention the artists themselves; I'm sure that within six months of the Stones breaking up for good (which won't happen by the way, without a band member's death) that at least two of them will die. Maybe this is the problem, that we can never fully admit that younger people can do it better. I'm at the age now in which every pro athlete in the first 5 years of their career is younger than I, which is kind of a hard fact to accept. As a teenager, I could always look at the athletes, and musicians and filmmakers and authors for that matter, and think, wow, maybe in a few years I'll be able to do something like that. As time went on, it was more "Wow, he directed his first feature at 23, I only have two years left." Now, it's: "Damn, I need to buy more nacho cheese, I'm out again."

Anyway, I'll admit that this theory can be clouded by the fact that we are always searching for the next big thing (and by 'we' I mean people who haven't simply given up on new music/literature/art and have chosen a closed-off existence in 1991 or 1987 or 1968 or whenever), and originality is often confused with greatness. Likewise, artists who change with the times are often accused of pandering (which no doubt is sometimes the case) with electronic blips and freshly frosted tips.

But let's go back to music, can you think of any band or artist which released their best album more than ten years after they started? The only clear example I'm sure of is The Flaming Lips' The Soft Bulletin (released in 1999, a solid 15 years after their inception), otherwise I'm at a loss. There are some that come right at the cutoff mark, but nothing definitive. The pursuit of greatness is something that cannot be sustained over a long time period, but is too appealing to stop trying.

The reason I've been thinking about all this lately is that the new Sonic Youth album is fucking great. Probably not 'their best album ever' great, but great nonetheless. It's called Rather Ripped and will be in stores on Tuesday. Am I just being naive? Am I as bad as the people I've described above? Sonic Youth always seemed on a different level than most bands, because even though they were never famous (except for a brief semi-famous period in the early-to-mid 90s (they were on an episode of the Simpsons after all: Thurston Moore: Aw, come on, Mr. Frampton. You're not gonna eat all that watermelon.)), but they always managed to pay the mortgage and avoid the factors that could break up a band or cause it to pander. Between the summers of 1998 and 1999 I bought every album they had released up to that point. Enjoyed all of them, some more than others, agreed with most critics that their mid to late 80s run was their peak. The 90s stuff was good, but there were always certain songs that never quite clicked. And, of course, they were never great singers or lyricists. But they continued to self-release experimental EPs and hold captive a devoted fanbase. I continued to buy their new records. NYC Ghosts + Flowers was mostly bad, and I was prepared to put them out to pasture, but they critically rebounded with their next two albums, which perhaps top anything they put out in the decade prior. This alone is cause for alarm. And the new album, it's nothing different except a bit catchier, perhaps their last offering of relatively mainstream fare (coinciding with the last album on their major label record contract) before they firmly shut the door on the masses that never accepted them. But the band members' ages are, as of today, 53, 50, 47, and 43. My parents are 54 and 52. This is old. Can you think of any 50-year-olds you wouldn't mind hanging out with, not to mention any who you would feel self-consciously uncool around?

Like I said, perhaps I'm just being naive here. But maybe Sonic Youth found magic alien pods in their swimming pool. Maybe they alone have the secret, or maybe just have been lucky. I'm not sure, but it doesn't seem natural.

A Cinderella Story...

Just finished watching Jim Jarmusch's Broken Flowers, starring Bill Murray. Good movie, I was very proud to hear one of my favorite songs, "There is an End," by The Greenhornes ft. Holly Golightly on vocals, used in both the beginning and end credits.

Near the end of the movie, Bill Murray runs. He runs about 40 yards or so, maybe less. Bill Murray, 55 years old, who in his recent resurgence, from Rushmore to Lost in Translation to The Life Aquatic to now, has always played a morose static figure who can only wistfully think about his life gone by so quickly.

Bill Murray can run faster than me. I can't even walk from the train station to my office without my knee giving out at least once.

We need a moat. A moat of fire... filled with fire-proof crocodiles

As a simple man (IQ of 73) who enjoys simple pleasures (bourbon on the rocks, loud music, post-modern art, potato chips), it doesn't take much for me to have a relaxing weekend. But usually I end up trudging to work Monday morning feeling that I left certain exciting stones unturned, that the two hours I spent playing RBI Baseball on my computer wasn't the best use of free time. Well, this past weekend wasn't like that. Here's a summary:

Friday night: ran to the store for groceries, then made satisfactory tuna steaks for dinner. Went with a friend to see Tapes 'n Tapes w/Cold War Kids (verdict = meh) at the Abbey, had a few beers afterwards, took train home, ate potato chips and watched the second half of Annie Hall.

Saturday morning: got up relatively early and took a bus to go to the Choke Garage Sale. Spent exactly $5 to buy about 25 CDs and 10 7"s. I've heard of about five of these (Marble Valley, anyone?) but the rest were choosen based on band name or album cover. Lots of punk rock, I think, but I haven't listened to any yet, since I've also bought 7 other CDs (that I've heard of) in the past week.

Then: dropped off bag of records at home and took train downtown to Printer's Row Book Fair. Caught Dave Eggers. Returned home.

Afternoon: ate pizza, watched Cubs/Cardinals, read on the porch, slightly dozed off while listening to music.

Evening: met coworker for drinks in the neighborhood, watched basketball game, out until 1 (including being at a place with a "Rescue 911" pinball machine), then home for an alcohol-soaking meal of stove top stuffing and Super Mario Bros 3.

Sunday: took train/bus to Hyde Park to meet M (who has been working all weekend), went to 57th street art fair, left with a new painting. Then the rest of the day I did nothing, and went to sleep before 11 for the first time in a month. If that's not excitement, I don't know what is.

Next weekend will hopefully be even better, as out of town guests will be here to amuse me. I'll try to get all my sleeping in during the week.