Read:My:Back

Smokin' Hot New Jonathan Kane Video!

Like you really needed more encouragement to go see JK's February tomorrow night (Thursday, 10.29) at the Brooklyn Knitting Factory?

As the only NYC band that continues to hit me in all the right places, I feel compelled to add that their live shows are often utterly transcendent. And if there's anything to be said about churning guitars and propulsive, swamp-thick rhythms in 2009, this is the band that's saying it—while dressed to the nines, no less!

More on Jonathan Kane's February here and here. (The latter includes a free MP3 download.)

Forking Fantastic!

Between working crazy hours and being an expectant dad, I'm probably the last guy in your Google reader who's qualified to be dishing on dinner party-themed cookbooks. My wife and I haven't properly entertained for more than one or two people in quite a while, and with the above details in mind, I can't see that changing until the little tyke can mix or stir on command. Furthermore, one of the authors of this particular book is someone I've known for fifteen years. Granted, I haven't actually seen her for the last ten of them, but I'm not the sort to pull punches when writing about the creative endeavors of pals anyway. (And I've got the ever-shrinking Christmas card list to prove it, bub.) Nevertheless, Zora O'Neill and Tamara Reynolds' new Forking Fantastic!: Put the Party back in Dinner Party is exactly the kind of food writing I'd want to be coached by on the way to an epic, in-house gathering.

You may have heard about Zora and Tamara without even knowing it, as their reputation is something of a legend in its own time. They're responsible for Astoria's fabled underground supper club, which, to have attended, earns one a special brand of cache amongst the food cognoscenti of the outer boroughs. With heavyweights like Anthony Bourdain and Jamie Oliver counted in their fan base, these ladies are clearly not to be taken lightly or dismissed as yet more self-aggrandizing food bloggistas who somehow bullshat their way into a book deal. Zora and Tamara walk the walk, talk the talk (profanity included! just like in a real kitchen!), and could easily outgun any dinner party I've ever conjured.

Their secret? It's the food, dummy! The book has an appealing DIY aesthetic to it which wastes no time in dismissing all the crap that often weighs so heavily on the minds of potential party throwers. Suffice to say, matching cloth napkins, elaborate centerpieces, and heirloom crystal wine glasses have no place in the Forking Fantastic mindset. Put another way, if the sight of that skinny blonde woman on the Food Network who's always yabbering on about her "tablescape" makes you want to hurl a brick at the television, this book is your ticket to dinner party salvation. In it are recipes for all manner of crowd pleasing dishes from the simple to the complex, and the familiar to the utterly obscure. Best of all, the journey is loaded with tips and personal anecdotes from Zora and Tamara's own experiences in the trenches. As such, they'll tell you where it is and isn't OK to cut corners, but they'll also reveal why Led Zeppelin is perfectly acceptable dinnertime music, and why it's alright to ask a few of your guests to bring their own chairs, or to make due with drinking wine out of jelly jars... there's even a chart that breaks down why home cooking beats sex as a routine activity! It's that kind of disarming irreverence that mounts this guide as a perfect kitchen companion for creative weirdos who love cooking, especially for their friends. If you're anything like me, you'll have read Forking Fantastic cover to cover long before soiling a single skillet at its behest.

The Forking Fantastic homepage is here. Zora blogs at Roving Gastronome, and Tamara recounts the Sunday Night Dinner beeswax over at One Ass Kitchen. Both can be heard discussing the book and giggling like crazies on WNYC's Brian Lehrer Show by following this link.

Bob Mould Live at ATP, 2008

I'm humbled (OK, utterly floored) to announce that my words will be published in Bob Mould's new tour-only CD, recorded live at last year's All Tomorrow's Parties festival. As a spiky-haired middle schooler who still remembers BMXing up to the highway record store for a copy of Warehouse Songs & Stories (on cassette!), I never would have imagined one day penning liners for the man responsible for much of that album's content. Because his words and music played such a critical role in my transition from adolescence to adulthood, it's not surprising that the uniquely evolved (and uniformly enthralling) nature of his artistry is central to what I wrote.

Live at ATP 2008 is an exclusive release, and you can only get your mitts on a copy by going to see Bob live on his upcoming tour. Having witnessed the show these recordings were sourced from, I can promise it'll be time and money well spent. The setlist spanned 30+ years of brilliant material, and pretty much leveled the crowd in a way that was unmatched by any of the weekend's other performances. The official word from Bob's website reads:

We are very pleased to announce the CD release of the Bob Mould Band performance at ATP NY Festival on September 21st, 2008. Originally recorded for live broadcast on WFMU, this is the first time that this exceptional recording of a seminal performance has been made available since it aired live on air.

This CD will only be available for sale at upcoming Bob Mould Band shows so make sure to come out to the show and get yours!

Bob Mould Band / Live At ATP 2008 Tracklist:

01. The Act We Act
02. A Good Idea
03. I Hate Alternative Rock
04. See A Little Light
05. Hoover Dam
06. Circles
07. Paralyzed
08. I Apologize
09. Chartered Trips
10. Celebrated Summer
11. Makes No Sense At All
12. New Day Rising

Assuming those titles send the same thrill up your leg as they do mine, here's the tour schedule for you to work the remainder of your 2009 calendar around. Bob plays NYC's Irving Plaza on October 8th, click here for tickets.

[Listen to Bob Mould and Sugar perform "The Act We Act"]

The Phanton Phone Hacker

I'd forgotten all about this, but just came across the MP3 buried in the depths of WFMU's website. I should never have lost track of it, especially since I'm the one who put it there in 2004.

From my original WFMU post:

Throughout the mid and late 80s, the APRC (Alternative Press & Radio Council) ran a 24 hour concert info hotline (212-OPEC-SID) that would give bridge and tunnelers without easy access to resources like The Village Voice a pre-recorded rundown of all the punky rock shows going on for the week. Someone who is remembered only as "The Phantom Phone Hacker" would sometimes dial into the system (really just a primitive cassette-based answering machine) and change the outgoing message to feature some pretty unlikely lineups...

[Download MP3]

These recordings were originally gathered on one of the old Jersey Beat cassette comps, but this MP3 was spliced together and edited for radio airplay. Yes, it's stupid, but it's also a funny relic from an era of primitive technology.

[Photo by Flickr user C@rljones. Licensed for re-use via Creative Commons]

Ethiopian Food on the Cheap

In celebration of the hopeful glimmers on the global solvency front, I did something last night which I haven't done in ages: met a friend for drinks down on Avenue C, and then continued on to dinner. That is to say, in a real restaurant—the kind I have not darkened the halls of with any frequency since the entire economy decided to set up shop at the bottom of the toilet.

We went to Awash—the downtown satellite location of the popular Ethiopian eatery up on Amsterdam and 106th Street. My lack of recent familiarity with restaurant food notwithstanding, I feel justified in referring to this place as the bomb. The people who run it are incredibly sweet, the food is ready in a jiffy, and the quality is outstanding. (And that's not just in comparison to the reviled Pakistani-Indian joints that crowd around either side of its 6th Street address.) Granted, my experience with Ethiopian food is limited, but Awash far surpasses any other I've dined on in recent memory. The injera (pancake-like bread) was outstandingly fluffy and moist, and the chicken, lamb, carrots, lentils, and collared greens we scooped up with portions of it were no less enthralling. It took considerable effort to roll ourselves back onto the street after such a gargantuan meal—one which should be noted set us back less than twenty bucks each, including a hefty tip.

The general giddiness of the evening derailed my intention of photographing the beautiful platter of food which was delivered to our table, so pictured here is a similar one, originally snapped by Flickr user Abbyladybug. (Licensed for re-use via Creative Commons.) If you happen to be passing through the East Village (I know, who does that anymore!?), Awash is a brilliant spot for a thoughtfully prepared feast. For your pre-dining pleasure, here's a track from Ethiopian sax god Getatchew Mekuria, as first heard on his amazing collaboration with the Ex. [Download MP3]

John Zorn's Spillane

After playing an excerpt from John Zorn's excellent Spillane album during last week's radio program, I went digging for some background information on the landmark 1986 release. Spillane has been a staple of my radio programs for a long time, having been introduced to it way back when I first started helming the Sunday overnight shift at WPRB, circa 1992. A fellow DJ convinced me that the album's title track was a great selection to drop into the mix between 4 and 5 AM, mostly because it was long enough to enable an exhausted DJ to run down the hall and grab a cold and rejuvenating shower. (Which was often exactly the kick I needed to make it through until the 6 AM host came in to relieve me. I must confess that I sometimes leaned on Prince's "Lady Cab Driver" for the same purpose.)

I'm far from any kind of expert on Zorn's massive arsenal of releases, but I can totally appreciate Spillane''s Allmusic entry, which calls the album "a fine introduction to the composer's vast body of work." I'd always understood it to have been an aural interpretation of Mickey Spillane's lauded detective fiction novels, and that is true to an extent. However, this excerpt from some previously unseen (by me) John Zorn documentary goes into further and more tantalizing detail. There's lots of great, 80s-era NYC iconography to be observed, some brief but informative interviews with folks like Christian Marclay and Ikue Mori, and monologues of Zorn himself during which he wears punk band t-shirts of ascending hilarity. Butthole Surfers---->Agnostic Front—nice! 

The clip is only about eight minutes long, and here's a link to watch part two (which is even shorter.) Does anyone have any details on this documentary? There doesn't seem to be any more of it online, so I'm imagining these videos might be Zorn-specific selections from some broader work that examines the downtown art and music scenes of the mid 80s. I'm definitely interested in seeing the whole thing, so please give a holler if you know any further details!

8.19.09 Update: R:M:B reader Matt emailed me to express his suspicion that these excerpts were originally from a Sonic Youth/John Zorn mini-documentary called "Put Blood In The Music", circa 1989. A quick referral to YouTube confirms this... In fact, I just watched the Sonic Youth excerpts [part one | part two], and they're equally great. Thanks, Matt!

WFMU Fans Say: Crooks and Thieves Must Go!

The corruption scandal that tore through Brooklyn and north Jersey last week had me on the edge of my seat along with everyone else in the metro NYC area, and I've greeted the followup stories with appropriate astonishment. (Organ trafficking with crooked rabbis and Jersey politicians? Seriously?! That sounds like the Sopranos AND the Wire! Where's the HBO development team when I need them?)

Anyway, rumors have begun circulating that Hoboken's mayor, who is accused of accepting a $25,000 bribe, may be announcing his resignation sometime tomorrow. However, I'm more interested in the idiotic widget that NBC's website is running next to their coverage of this breaking story. Readers are asked to "rate" the news in much the same way that Indian restaurants on 6th Street ask diners to rate their meals with those "how was the service?" cards. As of this writing, 67% of the respondents claim to be "thrilled", and 33% are "laughing", yet 0% report any sensations of fury, boredom, sadness, or intrigue. (As I recall from my last voyage to 6th Street, the options there are no less confusing. How does one distinguish between food that is "sumptuous" versus that which is merely "exquisite"?)

Meanwhile, at yesterday's council meeting in Jersey City, it seems that some WFMU fans were among the concerned citizens who showed up to pressure resignations from the accused. Pow to the people! [Screengrab via NJ.com]

Mammatus Clouds Over NYC Last Friday

[More]

This photograph is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License.

Unmasked! 18-35 Year Old Males Want Less Wiener-Flexing Donut Metal, More Light Rock.

I keep my alarm clock set to one of New York's many abysmal radio stations. As is the case in most urban areas, call letters and programming formats change frequently, so I'm not actually sure what its frequency is, but the station's oft-repeated slogan has been forever burned into my conscience: New York's Rock Experience.

I've reluctantly acclimated to their middle-of-the-road programming and the blustery chowderhead who hosts the weekday morning airslot. But today, they really sank to new depths of banality by devoting a significant amount of time to making fun of Captain and Tennille. The DJ and his ubiquitous female co-host (she might just be there to give traffic or weather reports) even cued up "Love Will Keep Us Together" [YouTube], and then guffawed loudly on-mic as it played.

Seriously, way to have your finger on the pulse, oh Great Bringers Of The Rock! Because if there's one thing I know about the discerning taste of New Yorkers bold enough to enjoy Kings of Leon and Led Zeppelin, it's that they've got no tolerance for... Captain and Tennille?

I can only imagine what sort of venom they must reserve for Pablo Cruise.

Realizing that it's pointless to get my knickers in a twist over some wank on a radio station that's clearly programmed by marketing executives, I still can't help regarding the idea of an all-rock radio station as utterly absurd, especially in 2009 and in a place like New York City. I might even argue that the legacies of other forms of popular music (disco and hip-hop, for starters) far outweigh the city's associations with rock and roll. Although I'm a few years beyond that 18-35 male demographic which most rock radio is geared towards, I can't help wondering why none of the industry's hotshots have figured out that other genres are at least as important to people my age and younger. The fact is that no commercial radio station in memory has made a serious bid to capture the nuanced musical taste of me and my Very Eclectic Broheims. (Hereafter referred to as "VEBs".)

The general freakiness of my WFMU playlists aside, I do happen to like a lot of very mainstream and accessible music, so don't mistake this as an argument that commercial radio ought to be playing the Sun City Girls or Einstürzende Neubauten. They shouldn't, they won't, and I am OK with this. But having been born in the early 70s, I know I'm not alone in regarding the first three Run DMC records with the same awe I apply to Bruce Springsteen's The Wild, the Innocent, and the E Street Shuffle. Similarly, De la Soul and Gang Starr hold just as exalted a place in my mind as do Nirvana and the Doors. I also own (and actively enjoy) very mainstream records by Madonna, Hall & Oates, the Hollies, Duffy, the Streets, Michael Jackson, and the NYC Peech Boys. And I don't believe that makes me a weirdo, much less an anomaly in whatever research defines adventurous radio as Beatles>Offspring>The Cars>make fun of Captain and Tennille.

A couple of years ago, during one of WFMU's fundraising marathons, one of the station's DJs made a similar blunder by deploying a few uncomplimentary remarks about the band Spandau Ballet while he was on-mic. The DJ was immediately reprimanded by his co-host, and it became something of an in-joke among a few other staffers. Far be it from me to compare Captain and Tennille to Spandau Ballet, but are songs like "Do that to me One More Time" any more tiresome than the other soft rock hits of the same era? Are guys who mistake Beavis and Butthead reruns for their own reflections the true demographic this station is reaching for? Sorry, but when you burst out of the gates by ragging on a guy who always wanted to be a ship's captain (but who instead plays music with his wife of more than 30 years), you come off as sort of a douchebag. Congratulations, rock and roll! For all of your self-aggrandizing as such a revolutionary artform, you're probably the least forward-thinking style of music I maintain even a marginal interest in. Nostalgia eats at your bloated carcass like a cruel cancer, and the radio stations that dedicate themselves to you (as opposed to those who maintain genre-specific playlists for dance, jazz, or hip-hop) are among the most unlistenable on the dial.

And somehow, it took the gentle, vegetarian popsmiths known as the Captain and Tennille to make this point clear to me.

 

Spectre's Internal Dynasty -- New Review in Dusted Magazine

Between the Anti Static podcast and my recent post about 1980s college radio, you might assume that I've relegated myself musically to the exclusive province of moldy oldies. While it's true that my exposure to new sounds has thinned considerably since hanging up my weekly radio hat in October of '07, there are still lots of current artists I make it a point to keep up with, and Spectre -- perhaps the most baffling producer in all of hip-hop -- is suitably emblematic of that claim.

Spectre's records are like no others that have crossed my desk. Whether working the instrumental corners, or collaborating with MCs from the extreme fringes of the underground, the otherworldly sounds that emanate from his Wordsound studios have consistently exposed hip-hop's established conventions as mere cliché. With an album cover that's reminiscent of early Bones Brigade-era skateboard deck graphics, Spectre's new LP (his seventh) is out now and well worth your time if you appreciate hip-hop that's wholly unconnected to the phony glitz of the genre's mainstream.

But be advised: the perplexing nature of Spectre's beats is only emphasized when buttressed by subject matter that one might associate with an eerie, occult-infused thriller. It's therefore no surprise that theological themes are a recurring presence in his music, and as with Spectre's previous releases, Internal Dynasty is said to have been "overseen by the almighty unknown force that makes all things possible". Consequently, hip-hop's closest equivalent to a Francisco de Goya painting may very well be at hand, and for further supporting evidence, I'm happy to point you towards my extended review of the album from today's edition of Dusted Magazine.