Flashback: 1980s!!! Part II

Wow... I had originally planned this thread to only include 8 or 10 great bands of the 1980s, but it quickly spiraled out of control. Not because I am particularly opinionated or loquacious (who, moi?), but because the more I thought about the subject, the more great bands came to mind.

So, here is part II... please don't take my word for any of this. Check these bands out and see if you agree in the end... the 1980s were not at all a fallow period for rock music. First, a mea culpa & update to my last post, a band I should not have neglected in the way I did...

Devo

I am embarrassed and ashamed that in Part I, I did not include Devo, one of the greatest bands of the late 70s/ early 80s. My only excuse is that the hot weather of late made my brain short-circuit – and that’s not a very good excuse, because Devo was one of the defining bands of the era, as well as one of my favorites.

Devo’s best, and first, album Q: Are We Not Men? A: We Are Devo was actually released in 1978, so maybe technically they aren’t a 1980s band. But their big hits “Whip It” and “Freedom Of Choice” came with the release of the album Freedom Of Choice in 1980. It’s hard to think of another band that so perfectly captured the 1980s synthesizer sound, so I feel duty-bound to include them on this list.

Though Devo scored quite a few pop hits in their time, they were so far ahead of the era that you get the feeling that most people who bought their records didn’t understand what their songs were really saying. The band’s name came from leader Mark Mothersbaugh’s pet theory that the human race is not evolving, but “de-evolving” backwards as a result of the pressures of technology, consumerism and apathy. It’s hard to think of a more cynical and sarcastic band of the time than Devo. They used synthesizers and electronics to express a robotic, mechanical and frankly depressing vision of society as a homogenous mass of consumers with few individual thoughts among them.

Their videos reflected this too; my favorite video (as well as one of their best songs) is “It’s A Beautiful World”. In case you didn’t guess, Mark Mothersbaugh really thinks the world is anything but beautiful. The video makes this quite clear – and it’s a great example of early music video editing using stock images for ironic effect.

Devo had a unique image too: contrary to the usual image of rock bands as long-haired freaks, the guys of Devo looked like fascists out of a George Orwell novel. This was of course meant to be ironic, as Devo was an intellectual, subversive band whose true beliefs couldn’t be further from fascist ones. But the image stuck.

Depressing? Sure. But their music was groovy, if somewhat mechanical by design… particularly as the years wore on. The title track to Devo's third album, Freedom Of Choice, is a groovy denunciation of mindless consumerism and insulting marketing techniques: “In ancient Rome/There was a poem/About a dog/Who found two bones/He licked the one/And picked the other/He went in circles until he dropped dead/Freedom of choice/Is what you got/ Freedom from choice/ Is what you want” Devo’s synth-pop surface belied its subversive undercurrent.

Devo later went downhill, focusing more and more on synthesizers until they eventually sounded like every other generic synth-pop group of the time. But even pure synth albums like Oh No, It’s Devo! had great songs ridiculing mindless consumer behavior, like “That’s Good” and the sinister “Peek-A-Boo” (chorus: I can see you / I know what you do / Cuz’ I do it too / HA HA HA HA!!!).

But Devo’s debut album is their most guitar-oriented and still my favorite. “Jocko Homo” could serve as Devo’s manifesto, and a spazzed, polyrhythmic and thoroughly reworked version of the Rolling Stones’ “Satisfaction” still gets the most play of any Devo song on rock radio to this day. It’s still worth a listen to me, because I have never been able to figure out where the 1-count of the beat on “Satisfaction” comes in. Try it sometime – you’ll see what I mean.

Freedom Of Choice is only slightly less good, meaning… it’s pretty dang fantastic by any standard, herky-jerky electro pop music with a bite. Tight!

The Minutemen

No relation to the modern-day anti-illegal-immigrant militia! Another prime example of a first-wave punk rock band that could really play their instruments, the Minutemen lived up to their name – they specialized in short songs, most of which hovered somewhere between a minute or two in length But their music was anything but slight. They were probably the most startlingly original and diverse of any punk band before or since. And as their name also might imply, they were among the most political of American punk bands – just behind the Dead Kennedys though not nearly as sarcastic.

Their early albums hewed close to the traditional punk rock template of bar chords, shouted lyrics and speed, but by the time the double album Double Nickels On The Dime came out in 1984, their sound had expanded to include tangents of jazz, funk and neck-snapping instrumental prowess. On that masterpiece, D. Boon’s Telecaster guitar throws out minimalist but unbelievably complex funk chops, stabs and rhythms, bassist Mike Watt beats and snaps his bass into submission with some of the most complex lines ever laid on tape, and drummer George Hurley keeps it all down with great funkitude when he’s not propelling everybody to greater heights of creative frenzy.

In spite of their virtuosic sound, they never sounded long-winded or tired – true to form, Double Nickels On The Dime contains a whopping 44 songs, all of them clocking in at under 3 minutes each – and most are significantly shorter than that.

The Minutemenwere overtly leftist politically, but their often strident lyrics denouncing big business, the Reagan era (“Jesus & Tequila), war and imperialism (“Vietnam”), and working dead-end jobs (“This Ain’t No Picnic”) were tempered with a sense of humor and a sort of punk sentimentalism on songs like “History Lesson Parts 1 & 2”, in which singer/guitarist D. Boon explains the story of how “Punk rock changed our lives.” It’s all set to music of great diversity, creativity, virtuosity and tightly controlled experimentation. The Minutemen, particularly on Double Nickels On The Dime sounded like a band that could play anything, and often did.

This band ended tragically in 1986 when Boon was killed in a car accident. Watt and Hurley considered quitting music altogether for a while (I have heard Watt describe Boon as his best friend), but ended up soldiering on as fIREHOSE with superfan Ed Crawford (who reportedly showed up on Watt’s doorstep unannounced, guitar in hand) and recorded a number of awesome albums under that name for the next 7 or 8 years.

Watt, in particular, has become somewhat of a grandpa/father figure to the whole underground scene in the past 20 years. Though he’s never been showered with filthy lucre, he’s released a number of solo albums in addition to his work with fIREHOSE, and played/recorded/toured with plenty of indie music luminaries such as avant/jazz guitarist Nels Cline, the reformed mega-band Jane’s Addiction, and in J Mascis’s (of Dinosaur Jr.) band The Fog a couple years back.

I’ve had the pleasure of seeing Watt live twice some years back – never have I seen anybody play bass like that. He smacks the snot out of his “thunderstick” (his term for it) seemingly randomly, fingers flailing, arms pumping – but then you listen to what he’s actually playing. He’s astoundingly precise and musical. He’s melodic and complex, but never overplays.

Picture a graying, average-looking guy with facial hair (he sported a long, bushy beard both times I saw him), wearing a flannel and jeans, playing bass like nobody else can. If you were to meet him on the street you might think he wanted some spare change. That’s Mike Watt, but don’t worry, he won’t ask for change -- and doesn’t need your money anyway. Long may he live!

Oingo Boingo

The began their career as The Mystic Knights Of Oingo Boingo, in the 1970s, and as the 80s went on they became one of the premier, so-called New Wave bands along with Devo and Talking Heads.

They gained the reputation of a party band, mainly because of their biggest hit, the title track to their 1985 album Dead Man’s Party. But their eclectic style had a darker side as evidenced by the early MTV hit “Nothing Bad Ever Happens”, as well as their swan song, 1993’s album Boingo.

That final album is a writhing mass of tension that includes denunciations of the first Gulf War, an energetic cover of “I Am The Walrus”, and the epic 16-minute closer “Changes”, a reflection on the ups and downs of life that is a fitting end to an under-appreciated band of the 1980s.

Oingo Boingo’s leader, Danny Elfman, has since the mid-1980s become an accomplished composer of film and television scores, to this day. He has contributed to a number of Tim Burton movies, and composed the theme song to The Simpsons. Didn’t you know that?

The Pogues

Shane MacGowan, lead singer of the Pogues, has about three teeth in his head, all of them crooked. It’s the logical end-result of decades of alcohol abuse and bar brawls. Which is fitting, because that’s what the Pogues music sounds like. This “Irish” band (MacGowan was Irish but the band was based in London) became known for its perfect melding of traditional Irish bar music and punk rock, all vomited forth with plenty of working-class attitude. Their 1985 album Rum, Sodomy And The Lash drips with attitude, beer and knuckles. The song “Dirty Old Town” pretty much encapsulates their appeal: “I kissed my love / by the factory wall / dirty old town /dirty old town”. Music to kiss your girl or start a fight to, take your pick.

The Replacements

This band was a preeminent American underground rock band of the 1980s. Singer/guitarist/songwriter Paul Westerberg wrote some of the most memorable and unapologetic rock songs of the era. They never became more than a mid-level band but are remembered to this day for their spirited songs and notoriously drunken performances – their unprofessionalism was probably a big reason they never broke really big.

But then, they never took themselves too seriously anyway, near as I can tell. They changed their name to Replacements from the Impediments after being banned from a club for disorderly behavior in their hometown of Mineapolis. The band’s early sound was brash punk rock, but later on they became just a damn good rock n’ roll band without apologies. Their defining work is their third album Let It Be, a record whose sound is nothing like the Beatles album of the same name. It’s a howling blast of pure rock n’ roll adrenaline with enough diversity to keep it from being monotonous.

They really didn’t care – I remember that one of their videos consisted entirely of a single shot: a guy putting a record on the turntable, then kicking back and smoking a cigarette as the camera focused on the twitching speaker. Such attitude admirably forced the viewer to focus on the music rather than the visuals. But their reputation as drunken curmudgeons doomed them – they were never able to shake their image as unreliable hooligans. Bythe time they cleaned up their act in the late 1980s it was too late – their chance had passed and the band broke up. Westerberg has put out sporadic solo albums every few years since.

REM

Oh yeah, and speaking of preeminent American underground rock bands – except REM went from the underground to being superstars in a few short years at the end of the 1980s. Their last six or seven albums haven’t been very good; the album Monster from 1994 was their last decent record I think. However their 1980s work (basically, their first five or six albums) still sounds as good today as it did then, and they deserve a mention on my list.

REM is too well known now for me to spend much time remarking on them here, but I will mention a few things. Michael Stipe’s obtuse and poetic lyrics always appealed to me, and Peter Buck’s guitar sound launched a thousand jangle-pop ships. I think their best album is their fifth, Document, even if “The One I Love” and “The End Of The World As We Know It” are way, way, way overplayed on classic rock radio these days. But Life’s Rich Pageant is a melodic, fuzzed out masterpiece too, and their least popular album, Fables Of The Reconstruction, contains some of the band’s most creative work.

I’m sorry to report that this band became too big for its britches in the 1990s. I saw them live in 1995 and was disappointed – they were lifeless on stage, played the songs at flaccid tempos, and bassist Mike Mills wore a ridiculous suit of mirrored sequins. The no-frills passion of their early days was long gone by then. None of this prevented Stipe from preening and constantly mumbling witless banter into the microphone, that day at Fiddler’s Green amphitheater in Denver. A travesty!

I pretty much wrote them off as a disappointment after that, but in their 1980s heyday, REM was a fantastic band with an arty mystique. What a shame.

The Specials

Another British ska band of the early 1980s, their eponymous first album actually came out in 1979, but hey… close enough. With a slightly more traditional ska sound and more biting lyrics than fellow scenesters, Madness, the Specials’ first album is a classic from beginning to end. Their most famous song is a cover, the ska standard “A Message To You Rudy”, which takes the form of a sobering lecture to Rudy (this the short form of the slang term “rude boy” – which in Jamaican street terms means gangster): “Stop ya messin’ around / better think of your future / time you straighten right out / or you’ll wind up in jail”.

Their originals were just as good, and it’s hard to pick a favorite, though “Stupid Marriage” (with the immortal line “naked woman / naked man / where did you get that nice suntan?”) and “Nite Klub” (a disdainful view of night club life) both rank highly.

I admit: The Specials/ is the only album that I’m really familiar with, but it’s so good! The Specials are also notable for being one of the few racially integrated second-wave ska bands, with both black and white members. Though ska was originally a Jamaican style, most second-wave ska bands were white as a generation of working-class British youths adopted the sound as their own. The Specials appropriated the Two-Tone graphic pattern of a black and white checkerboard on their albums to reflect their belief in racial integration.

Once again, I must stop for now... if anybody else is a fan of any of these bands, or even if you absolutely can't stand them, I would love to hear about your opinion. I live for this stuff. So many bands, so little time and space...

Flashback: 1980s!!!!

Music of my flaming youth -- in the 1980s, I was force-fed a steady diet of early MTV and hair-metal bands infused with a terrible mix of pop artists that exemplify all that went wrong with popular music in the 1980s. Examples, of which there are unfortunately many: Belinda Carlisle, Lionel Richie, Motley Crue, Chicago, Billy Ocean, Debbie Gibson, Deff Leppard, Hall & Oates, Whitesnake, the Footloose and Flashdance soundtracks, as well as any number of formerly vital artists who lost their way in that time -- such as David Bowie, Rod Stewart, Eric Clapton... you get the idea. C.R.A.P!! The sort of stuff you can hear in any supermarket these days, modern-day Muzak, only more annoying.

Wendi and I grew up in the 1970s and 1980s. We were talking one day and realized that, though most music fans consider the 1980s to be a lost decade in terms of musical quality, there were actually quite a few artists/bands that we still love, whose music has withstood the test of time. Which, when you get to be our ages, is really the only test that matters.

So, for the music geek in you, I submit the following for your consideration: a few bands/artists, from the 1980s that not only didn’t suck, but made a lasting impression on your humble author. My list is not exhaustive and consists of artists commonly considered to be in the category of rock music; for instance, I excluded heavy metal and rap music (which I happen to love, but space and time precludes their inclusion -- they're subjects in and of themselves). The list is in alphabetical order, as I really don’t care for “best-of” or “top pick-a-number” lists.

Unfortunately, as often happens when I get to writing, this list rapidly spiraled out of control; not only is it not exhaustive or complete, but I have to go to bed and only got to the letter M. Oh well, here we go!!


Camper Van Beethoven

Good ol’ Camper Van, the band that virtually defined the term “college rock” in the 1980s. They had a melodic, rather folksy sound augmented by a fiddle player, which was a great contrast to their sarcastic, goofy and often surreal lyrics on songs like “Take The Skinheads Bowling” from their first album, Telephone Free Landslide Victory, and the spoken narrative “Peace & Love” from their eponymous third album. They scored a minor MTV hit in 1988 with “Eye Of Fatima”, a song about a burned-out hippie drug dealer, but they are probably best remembered for a violin-flecked cover of Status Quo’s psychedelic 1960s anthem “Pictures Of Matchstick Men.”

The band disintegrated acrimoniously in 1989, and singer David Lowry went on to form Cracker, which became one of the biggest (and most overrated) bands of the early 1990s that never approached the wry Camper Van Beethoven in wry creativity and cleverness. I mean, this is a band that recorded a version of the ENTIRETY of Fleetwood Mac’s album Tusk on a whim!

A lot of longtime fans were surprised and pleased when they reunited in 2004 for a tour and new album, New Roman Times.

The Cure

I’ve never been a huge fan of the Cure, but their contribution to the 1980’s canon of good music cannot be overlooked. Wendi is a massive Cure fan and no doubt could write a lot more than I can about their merits. Gloomy, yet surprisingly pretty songs on albums like Pornography and Disintegration cemented their reputation as torch carriers for the goth and alternative scenes.

Personally, my favorite song of theirs is the fever dream nightmare of “Lullaby”, in which Robert Smith whisper-sings over a minor key, yet surprisingly gentle accompaniment, about being eaten alive in bed by a giant spider. The video is a little lost gem from that long-ago time when MTV didn’t completely suck.


Echo And The Bunnymen

Often overlooked, EATB were always much more popular overseas, especially in their native Britain. In the USA, they are mostly known for their dreamy, yet propulsively danceable single “Lips Like Sugar” which is from their self-titled 5th album from 1987. It’s a great song, with an immortal, simple and perfect guitar riff, but this band was much deeper than their rather silly name and single-hit status in the States might imply.

For me, their song “Rescue” from EATB's first album, Crocodiles epitomizes what made them great – the lyrics “things are going wrong / won’t you come on down to my rescue?” are belted out in a strangled moan by Ian McCulloch – it’s so arresting because it’s so simple and universal… anybody who has ever felt trapped and helpless can immediately relate.

Another melodic gem, and probably their second most famous song, is “Killing Moon” which was later covered by Pavement, among others.

Gang Of Four

Progenitors of what later would become known as the genre of post-punk, Gang Of Four meshed angular, throbbing, often atonal guitar riffs with scathing, anti-capitalist lyrics. Their minimalist approach and pervasive influence can be heard in countless later bands such as Fugazi & Shellac. Unlike the bands I’ve described so far, there was very little pop music in Gang Of Four, except for the occasional disco-esque beat such as in an otherwise virulently anti-military song “I Love A Man In A Uniform”.

The band was named after the four Chinese politicos who were blamed by the Communists for the worst excesses of China’s Cultural Revolution of the late 1960s, tried and convicted in a face-saving attempt by the state. The band was not Communist, but lyrics like “the problem of leisure / what to do for pleasure / ideal of a new purchase / a market of the senses … this heaven gives me migraine” from the song “Natural’s Not In It” leave little doubt that they didn’t care to conceal their contempt for capitalism, materialism, consumerist society and the corrupt structures of contemporary power.

Their overt politics would seem didactic and pretentious if it weren’t for their inventive instrumental prowess – spiky guitars and beats propelled by a relentless, almost danceable groove that perfectly complemented their biting lyrics on songs like “A Hole In The Wallet.” Heady stuff.

Hüsker Dü

Ok let’s get this out of the way first -- Hüsker Dü was named after a Danish board game (don’t ask me why) and means “do you remember”. They were one of the most beloved American punk bands of the 1980s, and in my opinion one of the best. Their early albums are a bit unfocused, but the in-your-face angst and breakneck speed of albums like Zen Arcade (a double album recorded in just three days) are among the purest examples of indie gold.

And, unlike many punk bands, Hüsker Dü were excellent musicians – singer/shouter Bob Mould has a ringing, slashing guitar attack that is instantly recognizable, drummer/singer Grant Hart was one of the best underground drummers of his time – have one listen to Zen Arcade's epic, 14-minute closing instrumental “Reoccurring Dreams” to see what I mean.

Their final album, Warehouse: Songs & Stories, suffers from overproduction (a victim, like so many bands, of that reverbed-out 80s production) and a thin drum sound, but is their most melodic and heart-wrenchingly personal.

Sadly, this band also suffered a bitter breakup – to this day, Bob Mould and Grant Hart have barely spoken, and then mostly by slamming each other in the press. Mould found quite a bit of commercial success both with his subsequent solo albums and with Sugar, a band that recorded a few albums in the early 1990s and sounded much like the direction Hüsker Dü was going when they broke up.

Madness

A band at the forefront of the so-called 2nd wave of ska that took Britain by storm in the late 70s and early 80s, their biggest hit, “Our House” was ironically nearly free of ska influence except for the horn charts – but nevertheless a great song. These guys had a sense of humor with musical chops and respect for ska music to match.

Ministry

A lot of bands begin with a high degree of musical inventiveness. As commercial success beckons, they just can’t sustain the juice as they try to appeal to broader audiences with watered-down music that doesn’t have the same edge that made them worth listening to in the first place. Not so with Ministry – with Ministry, the conventional narrative is almost completely inverted.

Their first album, 1983’s With Sympathy, was a danceable, electro-poppy, if slightly dark affair that gave no hint that by the 21st century they would be known as the elder statesman of industrial-strength heavy metal. Quite a journey – but mid-period Ministry set the standard not for heavy metal as it is known today, but for industrial music of a particularly influential kind.

Ministry's 1988 album, The Land Of Rape & Honey, , is widely considered their best and is an ingenious fusion of the sequenced, pounding rhythms of industrial music with squalling guitars. It’s also infectious as hell – the grating but precisely processed guitar riffs and sequenced drums of “Stigmata” and “The Diety” will burn into your brain and scar you for twenty years (they did for me, anyway!). There are also all-electronic, heavy but danceable electro-industrial workouts like “Golden Dawn” and “The Abortive”.

In later years, Ministry had a long creative dry spell, particularly in the late 1990s when I pretty much wrote them off as washed up, later to recover (in fine form, although with much greater focus on heavy metal) with blistering speed metal albums like last year’s Rio Grande Blood. But they never topped The Land Of Rape & Honey, one of the definitive recordings in industrial music – a musical genre that can be surprisingly conservative and boring. Not in this case.


Whew!! And you thought the 1980s consisted entirely of disposable pop and cheesy synthesizers. I love this was just the 1st half of the alphabet! Check back again for Part II… this was 1st just the 1st half (?) of my personal, beloved alphabet of great music from the 80s. If anyone has anything to add, I would love to hear it… no matter how cheesy it is. Just don’t get mad when I roll my eyes ;-)

Stay tuned. If you dare ;-P

Everywhere, anywhere... nowhere, USA

I have a few thoughts (well, an essay, really) regarding some of the comments people made regarding my last post, which I was originally going to post as a comment on my blog. But posting on one’s own blog comments is kind of tacky, don’t you think? And anyway, a few themes that were touched on deserve a little more space… ok, make that a lot more.

First of all, regarding living downtown being a “choice”: yes, I chose to live here nearly ten years ago (if you count Wheat Ridge as downtown – which it is, as far as you guys might be concerned). Then I moved to Jefferson Park (in Denver) for about 4 years, a neighborhood overlooking downtown, and finally Capitol Hill, 3 years ago.

But it’s not as much of a choice as you might think. In Wheat Ridge, the area in which I lived bordered Denver and Edgewater, another, itty bitty ‘burb of Denver only about 8 blocks wide. While not a ghetto, the area is definitely of lower middle-class character with tiny, aging houses. Jefferson Park is now a mostly Hispanic area where you will hear more Spanish than English spoken at the local Safeway. The houses have more character but most are older and crumbling. What do these areas have in common? Cheap rent.

My “choice” was whether I wanted to live in older, poorer but lively neighborhoods with some character versus living in newer, poorer neighborhoods thrown up by some big corporation without regard to the future. I would’ve had to commute twice as far to my job, and probably lived in run-down 1970s era apartment complexes nestled amongst sun-blasted asphalt parking lots and dying retail businesses. So yes, it was a choice. A real no-brainer for me.

Then Wendi and I moved to Capitol Hill. We’ve always loved this area of town. The housing is more expensive, yes. That was also a choice, but there was also added value. You can walk anywhere you need to go in Capitol Hill, and there are bus lines that run every few blocks. You guys may remember that I was without a car for more than two years, starting when Wendi and I separated in 2005. I couldn't have made it in the suburbs that way. I work downtown and commuting by bus would’ve been prohibitive – but that’s would’ve been the least of my problems. Just getting groceries would’ve consumed entire evenings, to say nothing of doing the laundry.

Plus, Wendi and I separated but we stayed in the same neighborhood – her apartment was a 10 minute walk away, so we never really lost touch. This was a major factor in saving our marriage, I think. Had she moved to Westminster or out to Lakewood or Littleton, I think we would’ve seldom seen each other, and there would be no Simon in her belly today :-)

In Capitol Hill, everything is within walking distance – heck, I can even walk to work. This factor is important in understanding why housing is so much cheaper in the 'burbs... these days – fewer people want to commute two hours a day just so they can have another flimsy, poorly built box with a patch of chemically treated, water sucking grass.

Ask anybody who works in housing construction – anymore, big development companies come in and throw as many houses up as they can – shoddy, cheap, chipboard boxes that will fall apart within 30 years. Most housing today is not built to stand the test of time. To house people is not even its primary purpose. It is built to extract maximum profit in the shortest possible amount of time, often for a large corporation based out of state that does not concern itself with trivialities like building sustainable, affordable communities for the future.

This trend has particularly accelerated in the last 15 years or so, with few people seeming to notice, but it’s becoming harder and harder to ignore. Don’t get me wrong – construction of the past was also built for profit, but they also built stuff to last, as a lasting legacy to posterity. Do you think Wal-Mart cares what the areas around their giant, thrown-up, warehouse-style boxes surrounded by acres and acres of parking lots will look like in 30 years, or even 5 years? Of course not.

This philosophy can be seen in old neighborhoods in Denver, most of which have nice parks, great architecture and thoughtful urban design. Civic Center Park downtown, or Cheeseman Park near our apartment are great examples of this, and are big reasons why so many people want to live here. These are public works of lasting value that are cared for down through the generations.

Everyone who lives in this area is reaping the benefits of decisions made more than 100 years ago, just like people who live in the decaying “inner suburbs” of Denver are now suffering the consequences of bad decisions in decades past. Even the bad parts of Denver often have character, they are victims of forces beyond their control. I'm thinking of Globeville, a North Denver neighborhood that has managed to retain some character despite being surrounded by heavy industry, bisected by railroad tracks and I-70, and chronic poverty.

You guys all make the 'burbs sound like such a paradise. Sure, the wealthier ones where you can just wall off yourself from the poor people (except when they come to clean) are great! But things are not so rosy all over -- many older suburbs of Denver are borderline ghettos today.

I'm thinking specifically of parts of Aurora, Northglenn and Westminster. When was the last time one of you guys drove up Federal Boulevard north of I-70? There you can see the results of bad planning from 40 years ago. And the lovely stretch of sprawling asphalt parking lots lined with big box stores just down the road from your neighborhood, surrounded by “luxury” apartment complexes? It’s next in line. Just give it time.

I am hoping that our new apartment works out, but you should know that the area is far from being some suburban paradise. There are parks, just not very nice ones. We will live right next to several major thoroughfares, and crime is by no means unknown there. I'm just hoping for the best. It's not a nicer area than Capitol Hill, it's just farther from downtown and cheaper.

I suppose some people will say that most of these problems are simply examples of free markets at work; that if people didn’t want to live in these places, they wouldn’t. My response is this: while there are markets involved, they are certainly not free!

Retailers such as Wal-Mart are notorious for extracting fat tax incentives from municipalities by threatening to simply build their store the next suburb over. Consolidation in the housing industry means that public works such as parks, roads and infrastructure are now designed and built by private corporations, while being effectively financed by public dollars. When one of these big housing developments gets thrown up, often at a net tax loss to the municipality, the municipality has to provide things like traffic signals, schools, police and fire protection, water and sewer, and so on. Guess who foots the bill?

It’s more than a local issue too. Not to slag on AZ, Jeff, but you guys in Phoenix are basically living off Colorado water. All that sprawl in Phoenix is possible because of an archaic legal framework between CO, AZ, UT, NV and CA called the Colorado River Compact. This was drawn up in the early 20th century as a way for the states to share water, but the hydrological science was poorly understood at the time. It effectively says that Colorado must deliver a certain amount of water to the states downstream no matter what. All is fine and dandy as long as water consumption stays the same and there is plenty of water.

So what happened? Water consumption has spiked due to sprawling development in all the states affected by the Compact, and there is a severe drought in CO, where all that water comes from. Colorado has to tighten its water consumption to water the golf courses and the swimming pools in seemingly every back yard in Phoenix. Colorado water is fueling the development that big corporations use to make a profit. That is not free enterprise. That is exploitation of a public, limited resource for private gain. And his doesn't even consider the vast environmental impacts.

There are other examples, not just retail and water. Returning to housing for a moment: for the past 15 years, the housing bubble (oh man… haven’t even gotten started on the bubble… some other time) has been fueled by cheap money provided by the policies of the Federal Bank, and quasi-government, corruption plagued entities such as Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac (two years ago an audit discovered that Freddie Mac improperly booked billions in revenue over the past 5 or so years). Real estate has always been a shady industry, but never more so in the past ten to 15 years. Effectively, big companies have been skimming the cream off the top of a deep well of public resources. Your tax dollars at work… for big business!

Tyler said something with which I agree (wow!): this is not sustainable. The peace, quiet and serenity that are so prized in the suburbs is similar to the peace, quiet and serenity of an ostrich with its head in the sand. Our kids will be paying the price for the sprawling suburbs of today, which will eventually be where all the poor people, crime and drugs are. Why do we as a society allow ourselves to pass all our problems on to our children because of short-term "wants"?

I suppose it would be best if everyone could move to a small town, “Anurbia” like Worland, WY with no crime, drugs, traffic, etc… except that by doing so, Worland wouldn’t be small anymore and all those problems would suddenly pop up. Not every place can be a rural paradise like Worland apparently is. In fact, many older neighborhoods in big cities have characters much like that of a small town like Worland. Would Worland be so nice with miles of strip malls and cheap, mass produced housing? Probably not.

And it’s not simply a matter of “choice” either. Americans’ delusions and ignorance about the true costs of their “choices” are what got us into this mess in the first place.

It’s a big picture and a long story. To understand it requires a lot of explanation, so I'm sorry if I’ve been a little long winded about this. But this is why I simply can’t get with the idea that suburbs are the fulfillment of the “American Dream”.

Of Capitol Hill, moving.... and guitars

Life rolls on. Wendi and I are moving in two weeks to a larger apartment in Englewood. We are crossing our fingers and hoping that it works out; neither of us wants to move again for a considerable amount of time. In the past 4 years for one reason or another, we have moved 5 or 6 times, depending on how you calculate it… needless to say, we are sick of it.

So we are making the long anticipated move to respectability and middle class (ha!) suburban boringness, to a slightly larger apartment in beautiful Englewood, CO. The time has come for this era to end.

Don’t get me wrong – Capitol Hill is still the best, funkiest and prettiest neighborhood in Denver, in my opinion. The problem is that it’s a neighborhood that is friendly mostly to the very rich or very young – a diverse mix of big apartment buildings and VERY expensive houses.

We will miss the trees, the people, the parks, the nightlife, the bands and the friends we have here – we won’t miss some of the shady characters, the petty crimes such theft and random vandalism, and most of all the rich people who have pumped up the price of real estate to the point where it’s all but impossible to own a house here without making more than $200,000 a year.

We simply can’t afford the space we will need when Simon (that’s our unborn boy’s name, in case you didn’t know already) comes along in a few months. My only consolation is that all of the people in this area who tried to get rich from flipping one-bedroom condos for $250,000 are now losing their shirts. Ahhh… schadenfreude can be very soothing!

Capitol Hill is generally a safe neighborhood, although being an urban, inner city area it is home to some amount of crime. It is thick with bars and nightclubs – though these are part of the neighborhood’s character, you can meet messed-up people at anytime of day, and especially when the bars close at 2:00 a.m.

There are also a fair number of weirdos and people wigging out on any number of substances. These people are mostly harmless, though it’s advisable not to talk to them, or shake their hands, which they will sometimes offer to you in hopes of gaining an opening to hit you up for a cigarette or for money. Just say no and ignore them or you'll have a new, needy and unpleasant friend.

The down-n-outers are a species of human life common to the inner city, to even a gentrified, upscale neighborhood such as this. I learned long ago to be very cool towards anybody who approaches me out of the blue trying to be friendly – it doesn’t mean they like you for your charming personality, it means they WANT something. I’m not mean – I just won’t give anybody any money, no matter how heart-wrenching their sob story is. And people do tell some whoppers.

I remember one freakazoid who approached me in front of a rather notorious 7 Eleven on Colfax and York a couple of years ago. He galloped up to me, bobbing, weaving and gasping in what I suppose was intended as a desperate genuflection. “Oh please sir,” he sobbed, “I just need a dollar so I can get across town to see my baby daughter who’s in the hospital. Can’t you help me out?” I was amused by his bizarre behavior, but not impressed. “No, man,” I said flatly as I got into the car and drove off.

Later that week, in front of another store on Colfax, the same guy came up to me with the same weird attempt at eliciting sympathy. This time I was less than amused but I laughed in his face as I was taking my keys from my pocket. A quarter fell out and clinked on the ground. The guy didn’t remember me, misread my actions and thought I was being friendly because I’d laughed. “Oh, thank you sir!” he gasped at me as he watched the quarter roll away. I said, “Dude, I just saw you two days ago up the street. Still haven’t made it across town, huh? Well there’s your quarter!” This guy had absolutely no pride -- he dropped down on all fours groping for the quarter on the asphalt.

I wasn’t trying to be mean, but I do not appreciate it when wastoids like that try to hustle me. Trust me, the guy had no sick daughter. This happened in front of a liquor store. Coincidence?

Some of you may remember that Wendi was mugged about a year and a half ago, while she and I were living apart. Her apartment building itself was very nice, but it happened to be just around the block from a rather notorious, four-block stretch of Colfax between Logan and Washington, which for a while was an open-air drug market. A lot of shady characters aimlessly circling the block and saying “Yo. Yo. Yo. Yo!” when you walk by.

The police have thankfully cracked down on that area in the past year or so – I personally can’t figure out why any street dealer would frequent the area, because you can’t go five minutes without a cop cruising by, but nobody ever said that street criminals are gifted with high intelligence. Anyway, that was a very traumatic experience for her (and me!), but thankfully they didn’t hurt her – just knocked her down and took her wallet.

Since living in Capitol Hill, we have been subject to more petty crimes than I can remember – a car window busted for no apparent reason, our locked bicycles stripped, Wendi’s scooter tipped over, etc. But our last straw with petty crime happened a few weeks ago, when Wendi’s scooter was clean stolen from behind our building.

Our downstairs neighbor saw it happen. Three guys and a truck came and just picked it up and took it away. He doesn’t know us (and even if he had, I certainly wouldn’t have expected him to intervene), but did his utmost by contacting the building manager Steve, who knew whose scooter it was and tried to call us – we weren’t at home.

The scooter theft was a big blow to us, because we were planning to sell it and hoped to get around $750 for it. Wendi filed a police report but because it had no registration (under 50ccs and you don’t have to register a scooter in Colorado), we of course know that we’ll never get it back.

It was terribly ironic. We’ve lived in Capitol Hill for a long time and both of us have parked that scooter all over the place for days at a time without incident, and just as we were about to sell it… gah!!!! C’est la vie, I guess.

I am really hoping that our shiny new Elantra won’t be subject to such indignities when we move to our new apartment in a couple weeks, but I can’t be too optimistic. Englewood is a suburb of Denver, but that doesn’t mean it’s free of crime. We are moving to a fairly nice apartment complex. But it’s large, which means that there’s an uncomfortable degree of anonymity, and in fact the nice lady who leased it to us said there has been some “recent activity.” We’re crossing our fingers.

Having said all of this, I will reiterate that Wendi and I both adore Capitol Hill. It is a truly beautiful urban neighborhood, warts and all. We simply can’t afford to live here and get the space we want and need for our screaming bundle of joy – who will be arriving in probably less than 3 months.

Housing prices in Capitol Hill ridiculous. Our two-bedroom apartment, with its tiny bathroom and lack of air conditioning, is priced as it is because of its location, not because it is so luxurious. A family of three simply cannot live in this neighborhood on $40,000 a year.

This is a symptom of the currently imploding housing bubble… which is a subject I have been following with great interest for a long time. But I’ll save my strong opinions on that phenomenon of mass psychology for another blog post in the future ;-)

And now for something COMPLETELY different!!!

My last post was about Led Zeppelin’s glorious “Rain Song”. Yeah I know it’s been a long time since I posted – sue me! Anyway, I thought I would make a few comments about alternate tunings, for those guitar players out there who are bored enough to actually spare a couple seconds to read this.

As mentioned previously, this song is played using a quite different tuning (DGCGCD) from the standard tuning (EADGBE) that we guitar playas know and love and on which we probably learned how to play. While it is possible to play this song in the standard tuning, it doesn’t sound nearly as good and is much more difficult to play that way.

Since my last post (was it really 5 months ago? Wow!), I have had one of our guitars tuned his way, to what I call “D Modal” tuning, and it has been a wonderful, refreshing experience for me. I’ve written a couple of new songs in the “Rain Song” tuning that sound nothing like “Rain Song,” and plan to record them as soon as I can, after we get settled in our new apartment. This tuning has a lovely, melancholy ambiguity, due to its being so friendly to suspended 2nd and 4th intervals. And it's great for getting a nice drone going.

I recommend alternative tunings to any guitar player who happens to find themselves stuck in a rut. All those classic chord shapes you learned by rote get thrown out the window, and you are forced to relearn your instrument. New chord voicings, progressions and harmonic possibilities will open up like a secret garden before your ears. You’ll be exploring the musical wilderness like a newborn wolf cub. It’s just plain fun! Plus, there are literally hundreds of other tunings of one variety or another that you can use to spice things up.

Try one or more of them. I guarantee you won’t be disappointed.

Song du jour: "Rain Song" by Led Zeppelin

I have been playing a bit o’ guitar lately. A couple different finger-pickings, a few more progressions the could be songs, and “Rain Song.”

This has been my favorite Led Zeppelin song since I first heard it. I was sixteen. Time has never diminished my admiration of it. It is a sublimely-written, extended (exhausted?) metaphor of love and the four seasons. The hammer of the gods bombast is there too. Jimmy Page used an unusual modal tuning, DGCGCD, to great droning and dynamic effect – this is an electric guitar showcase for the ages. There is Tabulature notation for it here.

The sparkling riffs unfold like a psychedelic thundercloud, a storm on a languid, late-summer afternoon. When John Paul Jones’ misty Mellotron comes in at the second verse, a fever dream of drowsiness will rush over you. You will cease to know the flow of time and shape of space. As the titanic climax erupts you will know that you have scaled the Mount Olympus of rock music. The gods gather here in Corinthian-columned pavilions to play favorites to certain mortals like the lads in Zep, tossing down the occasional lightning bolt or guitar lick to keep the game interesting. Or is it just me? It doesn’t get much more R.O.C.K. than “Rain Song”.

Or pompous, either. Yes, the Zep could be, um, pretentious. Their biggest weak spot was always Robert Plant’s lyrics. The pantheon of rock n’ roll has already a great, bejeweled and expensive temple to Jimmy, Robert, John and John, far be it from me to befoul it -- I myself have worshiped there for years.

But let me say it plainly – the lyrics to most Led Zeppelin songs suck. Far too many songs about swords, magic, loose women, deserts, oceans, and awkward references to The Lord Of The Rings. The lyrics to “Rain Song” could’ve been written by a 10th grader for an English poetry class project to post in the hall for the school creative writing contest, in which it might have had a chance of an honorable mention:

It is the springtime of my loving
The second season I am to know
Your are the sunlight in my growing
So little warmth I felt before
It isn’t hard to feel me glowing
I watched the fire that grew so low

It is the summer of my smiles
Flee from me, keepers of the gloom
Speak to me only with your eyes
It is to you I give this tune
It isn’t hard to recognize
These things are clear to all from time to time
I felt the coldness of my winter
I never thought it would ever go
I cursed the gloom that set upon us
But I know that I love you so

These are the seasons of emotion
And like the winds they rise and fall
This is the wonder of devotion
I see the torch we all must hold
This is the mystery of the quotient
Upon us all a little rain must fall
Just a little rain

C’mon – I mean, seriously, people.... “Flee from me, keepers of the gloom”???? Whew. OK. Percy, read something besides Tolkien for a change.

But you know what? I’m ok with that. Plant's talent was always in his voice, not verbalization, and in "Rain Song" the words perfectly compliment the instrumental wizardry of the band. For Zeppelin was a tight band above all else and sweeping dynamics their specialty. Some selections from their catalog approach “Rain Song” in epic, majestic grandeur, but none better it. The baroque, vague lyrics compliment the ambitious, dreamy mood of the chords perfectly… and you can chuckle at the subtle comedy of the lyrics, as well.

I used to believe this was a hard song to play on guitar– I still do – but when using the above tuning it falls on the neck quite naturally. It’s a great song to get lost in while playing – the chords and voiceings just seem so exotic, but right somehow. When I play it I see forested glens and maidens in white robes on unicorns. Is that weird?

A note on timeliness: a post that I put up on 11/14 vanished some time back when I got too enthusiastic tinkering with my template’s html. It was brilliant – I just wish I could remember what it was about.

Finally, if you have talked to me in the last two weeks, you know my lovely wife, Wendi, is preggers. We are very happy about this bean , and thank you all for your kindness. I’m still in awe of the idea of being a father, let alone the reality.

Five words... and quite a few more

The crux of what I wish to say to all Republicans in this late, great nation of ours can be summed up in five words:

You. Lose. Told. You. So!

I know I shouldn’t be bitter, but forgive me. Being called an America-hating, cut-and-run, tax-and-spend, namby-pamby, troop-despising, terrorist-loving liberal for the past six years will do that to anybody. You have squandered what little sympathy or respect I may ever have had for you in a river of blood, shrapnel, dead bodies and budget deficits.

So please, I ask you to choke on the defeat you have suffered this week with all due humility, and think about how this man, this arrogant, corrupt, incompetent administration and your (YOUR!) Congress has brought your party and MY country to its present state.

It’s no good blaming the liberal media, the liberals’ political establishment, or liberal latte-sipping effeminate metrosexuals for our plight – you’ve controlled Congress for more than a decade and the presidency for more than half this one. The entire Federal government! I’m sure you’ll try to find somebody else to blame for your woes, but maybe you should think about the damage you’ve done for a change -- instead of you neo-cons' typical paranoid victimology.

Save that stuff for the presidential race and Rush Limbaugh – unless you’ve got Parkinson’s disease, in which case we will all know you are faking it.

I’ve never voted for a Republican, but even after the 2000 election, in my wildest nightmares I never suspected your party of being capable of what it has done to our country’s reputation in the world – and to the world, for that matter. To say nothing about the other issues facing us – which include health care costs, social security, the runaway budget deficit, governmental corruption, global warming, pollution, nuclear proliferation, terrorism and a growing worldwide backlash against the good ol’ US of A, etc, etc, etc.

I won’t repeat what I said three-and-a-half years ago, but will reiterate that I predicted what is happening now, in Iraq and elsewhere. Unfortunately, this fact brings me very little pleasure.

Yes. We are a country, one of many in the world. We don’t control it, though you may think it’s our divine right. And thanks to the man you have voted for twice, we have lost almost as much influence in the world in the past five years as we gained in the previous fifty. And all the while you derided any disagreement, any voice of dissent, any hint that you might be mistaken, as anti-American, freedom-hating and pro-terrorist. We hate freedom. And we want nothing more than to cut and run and leave Iraq in a much worse place than when we invaded.

I’m sorry, but you neo-conservatives have done so much better living up to these lofty goals than any liberal could ever conceive. I mean it takes not just casual incompetence or benign neglect but active arrogance and willful corruption to achieve these things. Ask Halliburton. Ask the guys who have to guard empty trucks against suicide bombers. Ask Iraqis. The only people blind to the situation are yourselves. Congratulations – you have exceeded my wildest imaginings of the depths to which an American government can sink.

You say you want victory. What is victory? Total cessation of insurgent activities? A mild reduction? Ten thousand more dead people? A hundred-thousand? You never defined victory in the first place except as a buzzword for political gain, and now that it’s unattainable you are scrambling to redefine it.

The fact is that, for “victory”, you will have to kill millions of people, level every Iraqi city and eradicate entire culture – but you will never admit it, because it would affect your re-election chances. It must be nice to know that 130,000 troops are over there defending your party while you fetishize, romanticize and exploit for political power the blood and lives they have sacrificed, in the name of an unwinnable war that your own party started. Give yourselves a big, fat American pat on the back.

It must make your lying and political pandering, piffle and puffery of “freedom”, “democracy”, and “liberty” that much easier. Perhaps you even believe these things are actually being brought about in Iraq, though your government’s actions have instead brought freedom, democracy, and liberty’s opposites: anarchy, mob rule, chaos, and indiscriminate violence. It must be nice to be so paranoid and divorced from reality.

Oh, I know what you will say – the liberal media isn’t reporting the good things happening in Iraq, it’s due to their lies and omnipresent manipulation that people voted this way. I only hope you continue to think this way, as it will ensure that your party remains out of power for the foreseeable future. Sensible people disagree. Repeat that to yourselves when you find yourselves falling into that little mental trap. It will save you some anguish.

I’ll also admit that I’m not confident about the Democrats making things right. I have plenty of bad things to say about them, believe it or not. But it’s inconceivable that a Democrat-controlled government could be worse than the den of thieves, liars, idiots and arrogant ignoramuses we have now. They make Nixon look like a saint. Your party has lost my vote for the rest of my life, unless they put a gun to my head – which I wouldn’t put past them. They are THAT bad. Witness the crowd of Republican party operatives that crashed the entirely legal vote recount in late 2000 in order to stop it. They succeeded. Hitler would smile in approval.

I hope you will think about the things I’ve said, but based upon the past 12 years, I’m not optimistic. Many of you, such as George Will (also an opponent of the Iraq war!) are already saying that your party lost this election because you weren’t conservative enough. I hope you continue to believe this for my own selfish reasons, because it will ensure that your party continues to lose more elections.

I happen to love America but am ashamed and frightened of what this government has done. If we didn’t get rid of W this year, at least we gave him a “thumpin’”. He can’t do much more damage than he’s already done. Unfortunately, that is a very cold comfort. I wish I could take more pleasure at the Republicans’ loss on Tuesday, but I will settle for a small measure of relief, as well as a bit of juvenile gloating...

NYAH NYAH NYAH!!!!!!

My nemeses!

Wendi likes to tease me about people I look like. Hence, I cannot claim full responsibility for this particular post.

Everybody looks like somebody else, don't they? I have my own lookalikes. I'm kind of superstitious -- I have this paranoid feeling that, were one of them and I to meet, we would have to fight to the death.

Anyway... I'm like, so proud that I look like Shaun White. Once upon a time, I had hair as long as he. Of course, it didn't nearly as good as his....


"'ello Guvvna!!!!!"


Dick Van Dyke is warmly remembered by all for his chinmney sweep in Mary Poppins. At least I don't talk like that... most of the time. Handsome cuss he is. I'm not ashamed to look like Dick Van Dyke.


I'm also flattered to look like Dan Marino as a tough, young and handsome football player - though I can't claim to play football like him -- or at all. In fact, the guy would surely kill me in a fight.








I begin to be uncomfortable when Wendi tells me I look like John Heder -- Napoleon Dynamite, specifically. I don't know what to say... GOD!!!


What I really can't stand though is my final, and most hated nemesis. I will not speak his name -- please do not, in my presence. Should I ever meet this man in person, surely I should go into ninja mode, ready to defend myself from his deadly prop-comedy. No. There is no love lost between me and...


CARROTTOP

Enemy. Mine.

I shall eat his still-beating heart, and bathe in his blood.

The retarded language of love

Most married couples can probably relate to this: sometime after we got married, my wife & I developed our own language -- and I don't mean an intelligent language full of flowery Shakespearean metaphors in iambic pentameter, full of wit and vigorous wordplay. No, I mean a language that may as well be spoken by two-year-olds, or perhaps some of the more developed species of Australopithecus.

I remember my own mom and dad talking this way occasionally when I was a kid. "Hi?" with a sharply rising inflection expressed a certain dismay. My dad used to call my mom a variety of weird names such as "littles." And everyone in my family can recall times when their mutual laughter veered disturbingly into a strange chain reaction of hysterical, uncontrollable and crazed laughter that ended with my mom weeping and my dad red as a beet.

I used to think this weirdness was just my mom and dad... oh no. I give you our marital dictionary, which is much larger, but even more incomprehensible...

M&W's Dorky Dictionary

Alright. - said with a downward and final-sounding inflection, this is a joking way we agree with each other while joking that we are arguing. If it sounds too complex, it's because it is.

Barg! - angry frustration

Bleh. - want to go back to bed

Blobbus, boo or beau - our cat Malmo

Doof - what she calls me when I do or say something dumb, which is unfair of her because I never have. Never!

Eeb - I'm hurting

Fine! - much like "alright." except that this means that we are joking that we are arguing while actually agreeing. Don't ask.

Fleeb (aka Fleebus - from Fleabag) - our fat cat Michelle

Gack! - disgust, physical or mental

Garg - why me?

Gooba gooba gooba - this must be sung to a silly faux-lounge scat melody that Wendi made up.

Gorb - tired

Gorbus - boredom

Gorg - exhaustion

Gubzub - i'm sleepy

Holla! - alright!

Honeyplop or sweetypoo or baybee - what I call Wendi

Hubba or gubbahubba or lovablebubble - what Wendi calls me

Mafoo - Wendi's affectionate name for me. Aw!

Oog - Wendi's term for "I want you to rub me.... NOW!

Pleeb? - please

Punk out - what she says I do when I get mad

uh-Vootoo - you suck

Woman! - what I say when she gets on my nerves

Yebbis - yes. This comes from Mushmouth on the 70s cartoon Cosby Kids. I think/

Yumb - very tasty! (we have taken to adding a 'b' to almost any word that ends in an 'm' or an 'n' (dumb, gum, home, exam, etc.). This comes from an painting we saw hanging in a restauraunt someime back. It has proved a virulent meme that is spreading to more words -- we have recently begun overemphasizising our trailing plosives, as in the words 'pop' or 'mop'... things are spiraling out of control!)

And of course there are uncountably many more little idiosyncratic expressions, gestures and silly in-jokes that make absolutely no sense to anyone else... or to us, for that matter. I guess it's a cute enough aspect of our marriage, but I don't like to think of where we'll be many years from now, gibbering buffoons with zero comprehensiblity or social graces... much like Dad ;-)

Oh well, as a married person once said when I received blank looks from some other, unmarried people after relating some dumb antidote like this.... it's a marriage thing, you wouldn't understand.

Who would? A retarded chimpanzee, that's who.

Bak 2 skool, yo...

I know, I know -- 3 1/2 months? 3 1/2 months since my last post and I have the audacity to call this a blog?!?!?

I'm not making excuses, but there are reasons, not least of which being that I haven't really had much to say. I can hear my family guffawing in disbelief, but no, really it's the truth. When I have more time and energy you can be certain that I will intrigue you with my incisive analysis of current events and politics, inspire you with my philosophical musings, infuriate you with my angry leftist rants and raves, expand your musical knowledge with insightful commentary on whatever music happens to infatuate me on a given day, and bewilder you with non-sequiturs and strange tangents of thought. You'll just have to wait. For now, this post will be a relatively brief summation of my life right now.

Of course you know that Wendi and I have been living together again for about three months now, that we took a vacation last month to Valley View Hot Springs in Colorado's beautiful San Luis valley, and that school has started again, all of which can be gleaned from Wendi's much more timely blog. She's no slacker when it comes to blogging, my wife, which is more than I can say for many members of my family, myself included.

Anyway, school started a month ago. I'm trying something new this semester -- these newfangled online courses that are supposedly the wave of the future. For the past two semesters I've been in class four out of five weekdays, and though I prefer to have a real live teacher for the interaction and feedback, the schedule exhausted me. It's an understatement to say that working a full day and going to class for 2 to three hours can be draining... perhaps "life-sapping" is a better adjective.

I'm taking the usual nine credits (3 classes) this semester, but two of them are entirely online, except for the exams. While it's nice to not have to be on campus four days of the week, the amount of homework and studying that need to be done seems to have increased exponentially.

Last semester I could go to class, listen to the lecture and come away reasonably educated, which negated me having to do anything else after I got home, apart from the odd bit of writing or calculating. Weekends I would use to get the big stuff done, and I could usually do that in one of the two days.

Not so this semester! This semester, I don't get no stinkin' edu-ma-cational lectures. No, I get to figure it all out my own dang self, be it chi-square tests of independence or an accounting schedule of disposition of assets (bankruptcy). It's actually consuming more time than last semester. It doesn't help that the two online classes I'm taking are Advanced Business Statistics and Advanced Accounting, which are junior and senior level classes, respectively.

Heck, Biz Stats was hard enough the first time around, and I had a good teacher. I even knew what he looked like. And that's on top of my regular class, another junior-level, Accounting Information Systems. My nose is deep in a thick, arcane text 6 to 7 days of the week lately, just so I can stay on top of things -- to the chagrin of my wife who thinks I'm being kind of obsessive.

Not to complain too much. I'm learning a lot and that's what counts. I even enjoy it (sort of) -- but I'll be glad when it's over!

Last Saturday, my wife and I had a nice date. We went to PF Chang's for a yummy, spicy and rather expensive dinner of scallops and a couple of mojitos to wash them down, after which we planned to catch Andrew Bird -- who, coincidentally, was the subject of my last post -- at the Bluebird Theater. I had been looking forward to this show since I found out about it (courtesy of Wendi) last week. His album "The Mysterious Production Of Eggs" has been growing on me, even moreso since my last post. A one-of-a-kind, introspective and thoroughly original talent is A.B.

But it was not to be. There was no joy in Denver that night -- Andrew Bird was sold out! I was surprised -- I saw him in 2000 at the same venue. He barely filled half the joint! Oh well, I've got the records to listen to, as John Lennon might say...

Wendi and I have been bewitched by the monstrously, horrifyingly, agonizingly cute pictures of our newest nephews, Maxwell and Cal, that have been circulating. Please you guys, keep them coming! I have a picture of young Cal as wallpaper on my computer and my cellphone right now, and as many times as I see his face, the little rugrat never fails to make me all soppy stupid.

Finally, a word of advice to everyone who has bicycle -- if you live in an urban area, lock the wheels with a cable! Someone stole both wheels off my bike this week. I can't imagine why, but they did. Curse you, bicycle-wheel-thieves!!! May my wheels bring you no joy and somehow bring you grievous bodily harm!!!

Undiscovered gem song of the week: "Opposite Day"

I got home this morning with the sun right in my eyes
There was no warning as it took me by surprise
Hit me like an act of god causing my alarm
That I’d not become a cephalopod
I still had legs and arms
Still had legs and arms

And today was supposed to be the day
Molecules decided to change their form
The laws of physics lose their sway
Youthful indiscretion is
Suddenly the norm with the good kids sprouting horns

And today was supposed to be
Not just another day
Today was supposed to be
Opposite day

And those who can’t quite function in society at large
Are gonna wake up on this morning
And find that they’re in charge
While those the world is set up for who are really doing quite well
Gonna wake up in institutions in prison or in hell
And today was supposed to be
Opposite day

But if you think there’s something else…
well you’re right there is something else
But if you think I’m gonna tell you
Think again, why should I think of telling you what there is?
Because silence is knowledge and knowledge is power
I’m under explicit orders to dare not speak its name

No I dare not speak its name
Listen!
I just work here
No I dare not speak its name

“Opposite Day”
by Andrew Bird 2005

This is a wry, sarcastic song about the absurdity of life, or something like that. Get the clever Kafka reference in the first verse? Andrew Bird has come a very long way from Squirrel Nut Zippers. This song is from his lovely latest record "The Mysterious Production of Eggs". The odd melody breaks into a uniquely Bird-ian chorus. His expressively virtuosic fiddle playing is in abundance. His melancholy, yet witty and comforting voice seems to ponder the words as he sings them. The album is his strongest and most unique yet -- I think he's found his voice.

It's real

We move on. By now, if you've read Wendi's blog you know that we've decided to live together again. I think I can speak for us both when I say thank you all for the love all of yo have shown us for the past difficult year.

We are hoping to learn to live together again and be happy like we used to be. That we love each other has never really been in doubt over the past year. Right honey? ;-)

We've leased a two bedroom apartment, one whole block (9th and Corona) from my current place, from the same company that I rent from now. It was the only way that I could get out of my current lease with a minimum of pain, and it's not like I'm crazy about my current apartment.

The blinds are cheap and fall apart at the slightest touch. The kitchen is cheap and small. The management company is run by incompetent airheads and overbearing husky men. Neither of us are crazy about Cornerstoned Apartments. The new apartment does not have A/C. So, this move is not without its dark corners. But the upshot is that we signed the lease today and it is a done deal

We do like the new apartment. It has a large kitchen and dining area, hardwood floors and several closets. Closets are good. So is having a dishwasher for the first time in a year :-) And the blinds, while no less cheap, are somewhat sturdier.

I am typing this from Wendi's place. We have been spending almost every night together since skool ended two weeks ago. Our new apartment will be more convenient for both of us, but the move is coming suddenly. We have to move in two weeks (June 10th). Mark, who is facing a move of his own at the end of next month, has graciously agreed to help with ours. Can you guess why?

We have also enlisted a couple of friends with promises of pizza and beer afterwards. Really good pizza.

I'm listening to a 40 year old ska song right now called "It's Real" by the Silvertones. This is vintage, first-wave ska of the first order -- like most of the Jamaican ska "groups" of the early/mid 1960's it consists of an anonymous studio band and some soulful singers. It's got some of the most insanely infectious interplay between the lead and backing vocals I've ever head. It sounds joyous and makes me feel good.

I danced to "It's Real" a moment ago and made Wendi laugh. Hopefully not only at me. She has a nice laugh. Love you girl...

Maxwell's little family

Salutations and congratulations to Tylee-Mike and Danalin on their new progeny, Maxwell! May all of you live long and Foster!

That was bad I know. Just being dumb and happy 'cuz I am overjoyed with the little bundle, and I haven't even met him yet.

And to claim my throne: I have been checking the fosterblogs for nearly 2 days and have not seen anyone else offer many happy returns... am I the first? So be it.

Of course, I know -- new parents. They've got enough to worry about up Seattle way -- without making a fuss in the electroether. Just wanted to offer my good vibes :-)

Kool song of the week: Einsturzende Neubauten

You will find me if you want me
In the garden
Unless it's pouring down with rain...

You will find me waiting for the spring and summer
You will find me waiting for the fall
You will find me waiting for the apples to ripen
You will find me waiting for them to fall
You will find me waiting by the banks of all four rivers
You will find me by the spring of consciousness

You will find me if you want me
In the garden
Unless it's pouring down with rain...

"The Garden"
Einsturzende Neubauten - 1996

This eerie song is from their 1996 album Ende Neu. These are the lyrics in their entirety... excluding the many times he repeats the title phrase. Which Blixa supposedly wrote after over hearing a conversation between elderly women in a supermarket. An insistant glissando bass thumps in time with a single note on an electric piano flows into a cascade of descending strings like cobwebs in in the full moonlight. Einsturzende Neubauten is best when they go for atmosphere like this --some of their songs are full of bellowing Germans and crashing trashcan lids. Hey you know, if yer into that sorta thing.

Trouble, trouble, oil and trouble...

Yes, the price of oil keeps going up, gas is at about $3 a gallon and the politicians are afraid. They're in a tizzy because they think they'll be next as the bloodthirsty cries of the unwashed masses echo to the sky ever louder in a rising chorus of outrage and despair: "Bring us the head of ExxonMobil!!!!!!!"

But it may surprise you that the big oil companies are not laughing all the way to the bank.... ok, well maybe they're chuckling a little, but there are dark clouds on the horizon for Big Oil. I came across this article on BusinessWeek's website which explains it pretty well.

These problems are well known in the industry, and those of us who work in it are bemused when politicians and refuseniks blame fuzzy concepts like "greed" and "price gouging" for the price of oil. Yes, both of these reprehensible things exist, but it all depends on the thresholds that we're willing as a society to tolerate. Nobody was calling for oil executives' heads when gas was $.89 a gallon in 1991, were they?

Trust me, as an unashamed enviromental conservationist liberal, I am no fan of Big Oil or our country's addiction to it (even though I work in the industry :-) How's that for 'perspective'). The BusinessWeek article's boo-hoo tone is fairly sympathetic to the industry -- no surprise there, though from my perspective they are crocodile tears. It's par for the course -- the article's in a business magazine after all. And as a business major I like to read about issues such as this one from a business perspective, expecially since the issue of oil dependence is so divisive right now. I just can't feel sorry for ExxonMobil, whatever troubles they may have in the future. Among oil companies they in particular have been instrumental in blocking progress re: CO2 emissions and regulations to protect the environment, as well as stumping hard for opening ANWR to exploitation. Cry us a river, ExxonMobil.

But people who blame the oil companies miss the point -- the problem is built-in, systemic greed in petroleum markets, the world's escalating demand, diminishing supplies, flat refining capacity, and certain cartels and unsavory countries which have found our Achilles heel and are using it to their advantage. I could go on to say that the root of the problem is a blind adherence to a free-market, capitalist ideology that is inappropriate and destructive for an irreplacable and finite resource such as petroleum/fossil fuels, but I think you get my point.

I admit I do take a certain bitter pleasure in watching the Republicans try to squirm out of this, because there is nothing they can do about it. NOTHING. And they're the ones who are supposed to understand the underlying principles of free markets so well. The "solutions" they've proposed would be ineffectual at best and more likely will only exacerbate the problem in one way or another.

$100 one-time tax rebates? *guffaw* That was pretty funny. Hooboy... who says Republicans don't have a sense of humor?

Suspend the national gas tax? Nice try. They (or the Democrats) may even try it for short-term political gain, but it doesn't matter -- any price reduction will be temporary if it happens at all. Suspending the gas tax would also cut off a vital source of funding that governments use to maintain their highways and infrastructure, and that would cause its own problems.

Drill in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge? That won't work either except to temporarily alleviate some of Big Oil's worries (elucidated in the article) about replenishing their proven reserves. Drilling in ANWR won't reduce the price of gas, no matter how much the Republicans talk of "secure oil supplies."

Even the Democrats' idea of a "windfall tax" on oil companies, while slightly more rational from a macroeconomic viewpoint, will indeed decrease investment in oil exploration and production (known as 'E&P' in the industry) -- just as the oil companies say. And E&P is about the only segment of the industry enjoying fat profit margins these days. As the petroleum supply moves "downstream" the margin gets as thin as a razor, especially at the wholesale level -- my company TransMontaigne's segment.

So go ahead Republicrats -- try all of the above! Knock us all out. Keep the half-baked schemes coming! None of them will work and some of these options will cause shortages in supply, which will make the pain even worse. Face it people, we are in for prolonged economic pain and it is directly due to the lack of attention that has been paid to reducing our oil dependence for the past 30 -40 years.

There is no easy solution to this one and the problem goes deep -- far beyond one focus-grouped, sound-bitten, negative-ad, god-fearing election cycle. Our elected leaders' inability to speak the truth about our country's long-term problems represents a profound failure in our democracy.

Anybody have an opinion on this that is not totally clouded by rigid free-market ideology? Let me know.

Suckcess can be yours :-)

Finally, I have it!!!!!!!

The time is close to finals, attention to which consumes a lot of my time. Many of you have discovered this truth when I've buttonholed and bored you with arcane arcane accounting concepts. To avoid my responsibilities, I made a list while procrastinating my studies tonight.

Matt's 5-Step Formula to College Suckcess

1. Resign yourself to having no life for several months. Repeat next semester.

You don't need friends when you're trying to get a problem right involving the "Percentage-completion Revenue Recognition Method" and attempting to complete an income statement. You think those T-accounts will just analyze themselves?!? Make some time during the weekends to have fun. Don't blow that precious 15 minutes between getting off 8 hours' work and opening the squeaky classroom door. You might be able to... I dunno, sleep on the bus or something. Slacker!!!!!

2. Talk negatively about the teacher behind his/her back.

Admit it -- skool sucks, and the last thing you need is somebody imposing arbitrary rules on crap on which you spent your best effort. Students know a good teacher when they have one, and will go out of their way to kick ass. Students with a bad teacher will talk and gossip. If you are unfortunate enough to have a bad teacher, go out of your way to seek out other students of similar mind. I guarantee you that you are not alone. Gossip! Slander! Let the obscenities fly! It won't improve your grade, but it might give you some fleeting satisfaction. And fleeting satisfaction is all you will get by passing the class, anyway :-)

3. Shameless groveling is a virtue.

OK, you just put it off and didn't think about the assignment until it was far too late. You lost it and your dog ate it. These things happen, don't you understand? Your spleen had to be removed from your nose, or perhaps you secretly nurse a grudge against a teammate from that dumb group project. Get over it and eat crow like a... um, crow. Your goal is to maximize the extenuating circumstances that prevented you from using maximum effort while simultaneously minimizing the effort it was possible for you to give. This is circular logic, but we're all adults here, aren't we?

4. Classroom "participation"

The class is boring, the teacher obtuse and the material is impenetrable by both. Why not go with the flow? The teacher probably knows little more than yourself, so feel free to expound upon his/her thoughts while subtly undermining them, and even boldly point out some logical errors. At the very least the teacher will remember you as being absent far less than you actually were. If you're in a bad mood, don't be afraid to get mean. Take the teacher's side when delivering withering criticism against a fellow student. It never fails to satisfy, and might endear you to this "teacher" also. A possible bump to the next letter-grade?

5. Attitude, attitude, attitude

Don't think of a college degree as the key to success, or as an indicator of your intelligence. It are not. Only your own ruthless attention to your GPA and mastering the subject of the next test will make any difference in your grades. Even in the end, if you put them on your resume, potential employers won't check them for veracity. I'm sorry, but there are plenty of people out there who can calculate a statement of cash flows from an income statment and information changes in balance sheet accounts. You think you're so special.

Something good

Yo peoples!

U wanna mess wit' me? Bring it on, muv!

More soon. Until then,

Peace,
M@TT