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.)
I just spent twenty minutes of my life searching the internet for an episode of that show Unwrapped. You know, the one hosted by Marc Summers—former host of kid programs like Double Dare, and quite possibly the mildest man in America. I actually think of Unwrapped as one of the better offerings on the Food Network, if only for its often horrifying revelations pertaining to how anything from gumballs to hot dogs to pickles are manufactured and distributed. An uneasy TV cousin to both Alton Brown and that Dirty Jobs guy, I often find myself roped into episodes of Unwrapped, even if I have only a fleeting interest in whatever the subject matter is.
Then I saw the episode about how cast iron cookware is made, and it was like watching Satyricon, 2001, Fitzcarraldo, Chelsea Girl, and a Skinemax movie all at the same time. Wow!
Naturally, I'm a big cast iron fan. In any post-apocalyptic/zombie takeover/survivalist scenario, I'm sure it would be among the first things I'd scavenge for in the wreckage of our failed society. Cast iron (skillets, in particular) are incredibly useful, satisfyingly heavy, boast a hidden health benefit, and are virtually indestructible. My wife and I have a beautiful one that she found in someone's trash on Flatbush Avenue. It was in pretty bad shape, but we cleaned it up and now use it constantly. (Interestingly, while scrubbing loose some burnt-on schmutz from the underside of its cooking surface, the manufacturer's imprint was revealed for what seemed like the first time in a century. I Googled the name, and indeed, the company that made it went out of business more than 50 years ago! As such, our skillet is already well on its way to family heirloom status, even though we're not the original owners.)
Anyhow, I'd never given much thought to how cast iron was manufactured, but the episode of Unwrapped that covered it was utterly riveting, so keep an eye out for it. As a consolation, here's a dorky, but similarly informative video put together by Le Creuset that covers a lot of the same ground. (Albeit with less molten metal being splattered around and a totally unnecessary smooth jazz/trip hop musical accompaniment.) [Link]
My only business at this year's WFMU Record Fair was to catch up with Vicki Bennett, whom radio listeners and patrons of avant media know as the supremely talented People Like Us. In the midst of all the vinyl which the Fair aggregates on an annual basis, Vicki and her pal Irene Moon helmed a stall festooned with trinkets, baubles, plastic grapes, and the pair's many independent and self-released audio/video projects.
Vicki's immense catalog of work includes the Story Without End DVD, which is a wonderful collection of her inventive and forward thinking media manipulations. Using found footage, impossibly obscure audio, and relics of both mediums that have fallen into the public domain, Vicki weaves disparate themes into an all new narrative which is light years away from anything the original creators could have imagined. A recurring theme in her work is a breathless anticipation for an orderly, technologically advanced near-future that would improve our lives while simultaneously bringing us closer to one another. But with those eagerly foretold years now behind us and their promises unfulfilled, there is a poignant subtext which stands in stark contrast to the bright eyed characters who populate her universe.
"Resemblage", which is included on the DVD and which was created with materials from the Lux collection of moving images has an unusually sinister tone to it, but it is one that works to brilliant effect. Beginning with some undeniably Gilliam-esque paper collage, the film quickly moves into foreboding territory through the colliding images of burning landscapes, failing powergrids, and digital static. Although it clocks in at only slightly north of four minutes, I've found it to be among her most compelling works to date.
The true magic of People Like Us is Vicki's unique model of promotion and distribution. By operating so far outside of the mainstream, she has freed herself of the baggage that customarily inhibits artistic growth, and her lengthy career and incredible prolificity bear testament to that truth. In the past, she has said:
"I believe that through the internet, people can experiment and distribute their work for free, or very cheap, and become famous through their idea, rather than through having financial backing. I see the value of working below the radar because I believe all things float to the surface eventually. And so I reinterpret the media through my work."
Here's a recent interview with Vicki in which she further expounds upon these themes, her source material, the Story Without End DVD, and other aspects of her very inspiring career.
Finally, here's one of my favorite People Like Us MP3s, originally from the All Together Now CD. (Download the whole album, and lots more great PLU sounds in WFMU's Free Music Archive).
I just found this excellent dub poetry take of LKJ's "Inglan is a Bitch", the musical version of which was one of the first reggae songs I ever heard on the radio. "Reggae Fi Peach", which can be found along with this one on the excellent Independent Intavenshan retrospective, remains one of my favorite tracks of all time. Read up on Linton Kwesi Johnson here.
Tullio de Piscopo performs "Stop Bajon (Primavera)". Why? Because it's amazing, and also because it's been stuck in my head since I first heard it on Siblingshot on the Bleachers. [Go there for the MP3.] Contrary to my wildest hopes and dreams, that's not Andy Samberg on the trumpet.
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!
...than performing inside a half-million gallon steel tank with a flashlight and a guitar is probably a copyright infringement. As such, witness this gentleman's earnest and faithful cover of the Bee Gees' "Every Christian Lion Hearted Man Will Show You" performed acoustically...well, inside a half-million gallon steel tank with a flashlight and a guitar. This version is many times better than every karaoke attempt I have seen this song suffer in my years of hanging out at Winnie's. Just sayin'.
For comparison's sake, here's a link to hear the original.
While this video casts them as something of a mere "rock band", any opportunity to be dazzled by these guys is worth a few minutes of your time. The song "Spirit Army" is from the Starlite Desperation's Take it Personally LP, which I'd call one of the best releases of 2008 that somehow slipped totally under the wire of cultural recognition. The band's early records paired up such disparate influences (Television? Devo? The Gun Club! Creedence!) and were so far distanced from other mid-late 90s sounds, I couldn't help but imagine them to be progenitors of a collective leap into newly realized artistic waters. It was my solemn prayer that the Starlite Desperation's glammy postulations on sex and death would blaze a trail that others would follow, but sadly, they wound up toiling in obscurity while lesser bands earned praise for their faux bad-boy simpering and meticulously tossed hair.
In April of 2000, I followed the band's tour for three brilliant performances at Philadelphia's Khyber Pass, Hoboken's Maxwell's, and then a hastily planned in-store at NYC's (now-shuttered) Sound & Fury Records. Four years later, I managed to dance even closer to the magic when they performed on my radio program. Here's an MP3 from that blazin' live session, and here's a link to buy the Starlite Desperation's records from Insound. In addition to the album this song comes from, the debut (Show You What a Baby Won't) and its followups (Go Kill Mice + Violate a Sundae) all pack an intensity and firepower that I've yet to see matched.
Not enough of you have joined me in my ongoing war against pre-cut chicken parts, so today I'm here to scream into the void just a little bit more. When full time work vaporized for me, one of the first luxuries to get axed were the neatly trimmed packages of chicken breast or thighs that populate your grocer's meat department. Those babies can cost upwards of five dollars a pound on a bad day, whereas an entire five pound bird can practically be had for a song. There's really no two ways about it—if you're trying to save money during these troubled times yet are still buying pre-cut chicken parts, you automatically relegate yourself to the status of recession amateur.
Keep in mind, I was pretty terrified the first time I tried cutting up a whole bird. I leaned heavily on the scissor technique explained in this short video, and it rather beautifully absorbed all the hesitations I'd associated with this most maligned of culinary tasks. All kidding aside, if someone out there is making a list of the world's most valuable secrets, the ability to dismember a chicken ought to be on it. We'll cover this in detail at some later date, but to get you warmed up to the idea, here's a similar but even easier technique.
I'm talking about spatchcocking—a fun word to type, and one which offers appealing shock value when spoken aloud in the presence of timid company. If you can make a paper snowflake, you can become an expert at this on your first attempt. Spatchcocking's advantages are perhaps too numerous to list, but among them are the simplicity, the minimal time investment, and the supremely rewarding payoff of juicy meat and a crispy exterior. Watch this short video tutorial to get started.
Since it's all about the outdoor grilling during these months of high summer, I opted to make a variation of chicken-under-a-brick, which involves weighing down your freshly spatchcocked bird on the grill with foil-wrapped weights. In lieu of actual bricks, you can also use your biggest and heaviest cast iron skillet to achieve the same effect, which is what I did to make the beastie pictured here.
Naturally, you'll need a marinade. I recommend a mixture of olive oil and whichever seasonings you're in the mood for. Garlic, rosemary, and lemon have a great history together, so why not reap the rewards of this proven flavor trifecta?
Finely chop up the leaves from a few sprigs of fresh rosemary and 4-6 cloves of garlic.
Add about 1/2 cup of extra virgin olive oil.
Apply mixture evenly to both sides of your freshly spatchcocked bird, salt and pepper according to your preference, and then cover and refrigerate for several hours.
Prepare your grill for medium-low cooking.
When grill is hot, retrieve chicken from the fridge, let excess marinade drip off, and squeeze the juice from one whole lemon all over it. Place bird on grill with the skin side down.
When the bird seems settled (3 minutes or so), place your cast iron skillet on top of it, close grill, and let cook for 10-15 minutes. When the skin looks deliciously crispy, flip your bird over, and replace the skillet for another 10-15 minutes of cooking time. And by the mercy of whichever god you tremble in the face of, remember to use an industrial strength pothandle when maneuvering the skillet, or else you could end up reenacting that scene from Raiders of the Lost Ark where the Nazi guy burns the holy hell out of his hand.
When the chicken is done cooking, remove it from the heat and let sit for ten minutes. If you did everything properly—and I can't imagine that you didn't—you'll be basking in the complements of your cookout companions for the remainder of the day. For all your hard work, here's an appropriate MP3 for your iPod's "Backyard Barbecue" playlist.
Lest you think Julian Cope has exclusive rights to promote music made by his "hairy pals", here's a pre-Eagles Joe Walsh from 1971, totally tearing it up with the James Gang on the classic "Walk Away". I'm not shy about my Walsh appreciation, and the obvious appeal of a malnourished-looking man laying down massive boogie with a shaggy batch of cro-magnons should be equally apparent for you. Records, MP3s, whatever... any self respecting fan of dirtbag jams needs this in their repertoire.
