I'm keeping this one short as I'm a busy bee preparing for my trip to Lawrence, KS (yes, Kansas) this afternoon. Sammy and Danny, here I come!!
Tuesday's Music Pick is San Jose, CA's own- The Mumlers! Check out their album, Thickets & Stitches. (Jo Jo's favorite tracks: Red River Hustle, Dice in a Drawer & Hush).
Also, maybe, just maybe I can make their Hemlock Tavern show when I visit SF this fall for Kensey & Sean's adorable nuptials!
Dylan's Forever Young is a true classic. So, naturally, I'm dying over how adorable and amazing Forever Young, the children's book is - set to Dylan's lyrics & illustrated by Paul Rodgers. Below is the animated promo...
Seriously, I need to have a child ASAP just so I can read he/ she this book.
Say "Mama say mama sa mama makusa" to almost any music lover & they'll most likely recognize it as the nonsensical phrase from Michael Jackson's Wanna be Startin' Somethin' (from Thriller, 1982). Either that, or they'll think you're really drunk.
But, let's get etymological: do you know where the phrase came from??
(Hand up, Hand up) I Do! I Do!
Today's Tuesday Music Pick honors Manu Dibango, the Cameroonian funk/ Afro-beat saxophonist who coined the phrase in his 1972 song Soul Makossa, ("Makossa" means "dance" in Duala, the Cameroonian language - thanks, Wikipedia).
So put on your dancing shoes & check out this live video (below) of Manu performing Soul Makossa. Then afterwards download his in-f*cking-credible 1973 release, Africadelic.
Typically documentaries, although I love them, leave me feeling distraught or outraged (or both), but this week my gf and I splurged on the film Soul Power, which left us happily grooving in our seats.
Soul Power is a musical documentary about an amazing concert held in Zaire in 1974. (This concert was also tied to the "Rumble in the Jungle" title fight between Muhammad Ali and George Foreman). The film features incredible performances from artists like James Brown, Bill Withers & BB King. The documentary also details the production of the concert & is complete with backstage footage & interviews. Music lovers, don't miss this one!
In the first season of Beverly Hills 90210, Brenda decides to throw a slumber party for her best girlfriends on a Friday night. Brenda assures Kelly, her best friend (and now and again royal b*tch), that it’s not really a juvenile slumber party at all since it will be all about female bonding and to please, please, please come.
Lo and behold, Kelly shows up, and so does Donna (total tag-along), and Andrea (Brenda’s twin brother Brandon’s nerdy fantasy woman). Problem is another girl, a stuck-up upperclassman named Amanda, wants to take Kelly to a college party that night. Kelly admits that she has a prior commitment to Brenda’s slumber party and that Amanda is welcome to come. Amanda looks at Kelly like she’s a garbage man and walks away. (Conflict!)
By nightfall all the girls are in their jammies, consisting of oversized men’s shirts with underwear (tip of the cap to the costume designer), and pigging out on ice cream. Then Amanda shows up in a blazer and silk shirt buttoned up to her larynx. (Gasp!)
Amanda pulls Kelly aside and says she’ll only stay a little while because (and I’m paraphrasing here), this bullsh*t is for children and she’d rather get drunk and knocked up by a frat boy than stay at this fucking cr*p.
Brenda, being a new innocent import to Beverly Hills from Minnesota, sees Amanda talking to Kelly and offers Amanda some ice cream. Amanda replies that, duh, she’s on a diet. (Harrumph!)
After hesitating for a few minutes, Amanda finally joins the ladies in Brenda’s living room. Andrea whips out a Ouija board and asks if anyone wants to channel a dead spirit. Amanda rolls her eyes. Andrea suggests trying to contact her dead grandmother. (Brilliant!)
Everyone puts their hands on the Ouija board dial and the spirit immediately whisks it around the alphabet board. It spells out “I A-M H-E-R-E.” Just then a flash of light comes in from outside the living room window. (Grandma??)
Turns out it’s actually David, a freshman peeping Tom with a flash camera. They all shout and shoo him away. Real smooth, David.
When everyone settles down a bit, Amanda decides it’s time for a real game called “Skeletons in the closet.” One person is chosen to sit in the middle and all the others are allowed to ask that person any disgusting question they want. The person has to answer, or else.
They start by putting Kelly on the hot seat. Andrea wants to know what her first sexual experience was. (Hello!) Kelly tells them about Steve, one of the least liked boy snob characters on the show, and how they did it when they were together. Kelly is unenthusiastic recollecting it. The girls giggle. Then Amanda prods further, “But what about your real first time?” Kelly then, sadly describes her being practically raped by a football player her freshman year “BNJ” (Before Nose Job). Everyone is shocked, except for Amanda who has an evil smirk on her face. (Gulp!)
One by one everyone gets put on the hot seat, except Amanda who finally bolts, but accidentally leaves her purse behind. Upon finding it, Donna knocks Amanda’s purse over and diet pills fall out like a hail storm. Amanda comes back only to see her big secret spilled all over the floor. She accuses them of going through her personal sh*t, but then admits she used to be blimp-sized and that she is only mean because the pills make her mean.
The girls tell her she needs help. Amanda agrees and says she'll stay overnight. (That was easy!) They even offer her a bowl of ice cream and she accepts! (Thank heavens!)
I've been kind of a negative Nelly lately - so in the spirit of putting a more positive spin on things - I am instituting a new, weekly sub-blog, my Tuesday Music Pick (TMP).
Today's TMP is an indie-pop band from Ireland called The Frank & Walters.
Consider this, if The Cure and The Smiths had been on antidepressants and infused with an Irish rhythmic sensibility, The Frank & Walters is what they might have sounded like. More than that, the majority of their music is refreshing, upbeat and conjures real nostalgia for the post-punk/ alt-rock sound of the early and mid 80s. My suggestion to you would be to check out their "Best Of" disc on iTunes.
today margot (gf) and i went to williamsburg, brooklyn (please hold all comments until the end) where we visited a couple friends and their adorable one & a half year old baby. the new parents and the baby glowed like nightlights. we ate orzo for lunch and played peek-a-boo. all was right with the world.
after about an hour, we all decided to take a walk out onto bedford avenue. now, for those of you who aren't familiar with the area, bedford avenue is the main drag in williamsburg & williamsburg is known for its population of hipsters. as if the hipsters weren't entertaining enough, a street fair was happening. since bedford was off limit to cars for the day people walked in the middle of the street & vendors sold homemade t-shirts, gaudy jewelry, paperback books - whatever they felt like selling. then i saw HER.
HER: a woman sitting in a chair wrapping an endless ball of twine around her head. let me correct myself, the woman wasn't just wrapping this twine around the top of her head, she was wrapping it around her nose and mouth too. her head was a human beehive. *
Question: would you (reader) classify this as performance art? or mere stupidity? of course you know which way i'm leaning.
*margot has just admitted that she thought the woman was making a basket on her head.
This blog is dedicated to my childhood garage whose dusty concrete floor I tried for two summers to build a go-kart on. My old garage, where I dared walk barefoot in summertime; hosting magic shows for neighborhood kids, pretending to stick a needle clear through my thumb, really the tip of a pickle underneath a handkerchief, then, tearing off the handkerchief, I'd pull out my thumb, unharmed, to the sounds of Oo, Ahh! This is for you, old pal.
In 1993, when I was a ponytailed, flannel-wearing junior at Penfield High School (in suburban Rochester, NY) I created my own zine called oO*Ah (pronounced Ooh, Ahh). Back then, oO*Ah (with only one "h")simply served as a gossip rag between my close friends and I. Ex. I'd call up my friends for interviews, consisting of ridiculous questions about their lives, record our conversations via speakerphone & boombox, then transcribe the interview for print. By "print" I mean, me, sitting alone in my teenage bedroom writing these things out by hand, into a set of stapled blank pages cluttered with my own sketches here and there. And, for some reason, I loved this sh*t.
About ten years later, I was in the middle of trying to complete my first graduate thesis in English at SUNY Brockport, when I came up with the most brilliant distraction: bring oO*Ah back. And I did.
This time, however, I'd learned a few things...
1) If I wanted an audience outside of my circle of friends, I would have to write things that appealed to a more general audience, say, about film, about music, about politics & the local scene.
2) If I wanted to avoid potentially crippling hand cramps, I would have to type it all out on a computer, print it, then make copies.
3) If I wanted to make copies, I would spend a lot of time in the copy room at my job pretending to do real work, so nothing would cost me anything - except maybe my job.
So after dropping off stacks of these zines outside the English department office at SUNY Brockport, the second coming of oO*Ah (still with one "h") began. And I almost flunked my thesis, which is to say, I got an A minus.
And today, you (yes YOU), are now a part of something incredible, something with history, something (hopefully) entertaining - the third coming of oO*Ahh. And "Ah" now has an extra "h" because "ooah" was already taken as a username. Imitators beware!
So for those of you who care/ dare to read what comes next ...do enjoy...
