Category: Music that doesn’t suck

Return of the Interbiker: Songs from Uranus

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 8 Comments
On the road again
Eastbound and down, loaded up an' truckin'.

LAS VEGAS, Nevada — Technology is not always our friend, and all too often the march of progress resembles the drunkard’s stumble that Tom Waits famously described in “Nighthawk Postcards (From Easy Street)” as “using parking meters as walking sticks.”

For example, we now enjoy “Italian” bikes wearing Asian components, “high-speed Internet” that is anything but, and “smart” phones that no longer need humans to place calls, choose music or launch apps.

The Italian-Asian hybrid you already know about. The Internet of the Living Dead was at the Fairfield, where I spent much of last night pushing one pixel at a time through a virtual soda straw.

And the “smart” phone? It was in one of the cargo pockets in my shorts when it decided Interbike was boring and needed a fresh soundtrack. Thus throughout the day my iPhone 3GS would randomly set Tom Waits, Gladys Knight and the Pips or Elvis Costello to singing, Ace Ventura-like, out of my butt, generally while I was trying to conduct a little business.

When that proved so 15 minutes ago it started ringing up people in my contacts list and launching apps at random. What’s next — texting my editors to ask them whether they’re wearing crotchless panties? Some of them probably are, and then where the hell will I be?

Oh, yeah — I’ll be on the road, that’s where. Show’s over, and I’m Colorado bound.

Music soothes the savage breast

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 17 Comments
Turkish in the sink
The Turk' was chillin' in the sink while we listened to Emmylou at the Newport Folk Festival.

After a trying week it’s been pleasant to listen to a little live music from the Newport Folk Festival courtesy of NPR Music.

Yesterday I caught the Decemberists and Gogol Bordello; today it was Amos Lee, Mountain Man, Elvis Costello and Emmylou Harris. Elvis and the Imposters started out a little ragged — I think he used the first couple of tunes for his sound check — but still, it beats the mortal shit out of Prairie Home Companion, lemme tell you, especially when he does “(What’s So Funny ‘Bout) Peace, Love and Understanding?” with a theramin for backup.

If you missed it, NPR Music is archiving audio and video from all three stages, so you can play catchup in the cube farm — assuming your particular business doesn’t get the business because Congress can’t do business, the miserable fucks. Congressional Progressive Caucus co-chair Rep. Raúl Grijalva of Arizona is seriously pissed off, and I’m right there with him. Says Grijalva:

The Democratic Party, no less than the Republican Party, is at a very serious crossroads at this moment. For decades Democrats have stood for a capable, meaningful government — a government that works for the people, not just the powerful, and that represents everyone fairly and equally. This deal weakens the Democratic Party as badly as it weakens the country. We have given much and received nothing in return. The lesson today is that Republicans can hold their breath long enough to get what they want. While I believe the country will not reward them for this in the long run, the damage has already been done.

Preach it, brother, preach it. Where’s Steve Earle when we need him?

• Late update: Pete Seeger joined Emmylou and a crowd of other performers onstage for “Turn, Turn, Turn” and “Where Have All the Flowers Gone?” The old commie’s gone a little wobbly, but he kept up the struggle. When will they ever learn, indeed.

Boogieman’s gonna get you

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 15 Comments

I see Obama got the boogieman. Good for him. Can’t say I liked watching my countrymen acting the fool at the news, as though their team had just won the Super Bowl or something, but given the predilection of American politicians for describing warfare in sporting terms I suppose they can hardly be blamed. But I turned off the TV anyway.

I do have one question, though. Who do you suppose the new boogieman is going to be?

Meanwhile, here’s an old boogieman for you, courtesy of Catfish Hodge.

Laboring day

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 8 Comments
Turkish, our local version of the IWW Sabo-Cat, takes a Labor Day break from his duties, whatever those might be.
Turkish, our local version of the IWW Sabo-Cat, takes a Labor Day break from his duties, whatever those might be.

Holiday, schmoliday. I had to work this morning. Not very hard, or for very long, but still.

The prez was working, too, calling for a $50 billion public works plan that seems to have absolutely no hope of coming to fruition before the Congresscritters scurry home, running like rats for re-election, proving yet again that they care more about whether they stay employed than whether we do.

Kevin Drum, another poor sod at the keyboard instead of the grill, is dismissive of the proposal, calling it “too small to be more than a pinprick.” Steve Benen speaks more gently of the plan, saying “it’s good to have lawmakers put on the spot before the election, taking a position on sensible, effective economic proposals like this one.” He also reminds us that Rep. John Boehner (R-Tanning Salon) is an idiot.

And Paul Krugman, drawing parallels with FDR’s situation in 1938, moans that “politicians and economists alike have spent decades unlearning the lessons of the 1930s, and are determined to repeat all the old mistakes.”

He adds: “And it’s slightly sickening to realize that the big winners in the midterm elections are likely to be the very people who first got us into this mess, then did everything in their power to block action to get us out.”

True dat, Paul old sock. Buckle up, folks, it’s gonna be a rough ride.

• Late update: To celebrate Labor Day Herself and I attended an Arlo Guthrie concert — yes, that Arlo Guthrie — right here in Bibleburg; in fact, only a few blocks from Chez Dog, in a park behind the Fine Arts Center. He didn’t do “Alice’s Restaurant,” but he did sing the great Steve Goodman tune, “City of New Orleans,” “The Motorcycle Song,” his fabled Woodstock number “Coming Into Los Angeles,” a couple of Leadbelly bits and (of course) his old man’s “This Land Is Your Land.” We sang along, a few thousand elderly hippies plus a few young folks who must have grown weary of their generation’s “stupid fucking tuneless horseshit,” as Thomas McGuane has accurately described it. It was great. “Take a good look around, Toots,” I told Herself as we strolled in. “This is what my nursing home is gonna look like.” Arlo must have been thinking along similar lines. At one point he quipped, “I’m what’s left of me.” Me, too, bruh. And I wasn’t even at Woodstock. At least, I don’t think I was. …