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The kitchen is in disarray. I spent the weekend sanding and painting cabinets, eliminating still more of the shit-brown so favored by the original crackers. Things went inertial in the kitchen last year when the wife pried me away (pragmatically, I concede) to DIY a nursery for the impending daughter. Now that the wee bairn is crawling, it seems practical to revisit notions of childproofery, with some aesthetic mercy thrown in for the adults.
So I labored at a leisurely pace, dreading each trip out into the hot and humid soupy atmosphere in the shed, where cabinet doors received vicious sandings. Now I am considerably along on the project and keen to work at it some more. In fact, I harbor no small amount of resentment that I have so little time. Last night was consumed in visits with old roommates and their new children, food and swimming and talking and playing. But to come home and see stacks of cabinet doors awaiting final coats of paint, to see large portions of subfloor exposed, to see so much shit-brown left to attack: it looks like sloth, or an unwillingness to pay out the ass to delegate the responsibility. Tonight I'm off to the Governor's School to catch the concert performed by the choral and instrumental music kids. Typically this is 20th material of an overt "avant-garde" nature, intended to broaden the minds of young musicians steeped in whatever lowest common denominator fills the band rooms of Arkinsaw. Wednesday night is a late night, so that pushes me back to Thursday, when I'm parenting the girl solo all day. No time, no time....
Book report: if oral biographies were any indication of musicianship, Motley Crue would enjoy a reputation above and beyond that of Jane's Addiction. If any good can be said to come of reading Whores, it might be that I have a deepening desire to read We Got the Neutron Bomb, but I think I can blame that on seeing Punk: Attitude on IFC again and again and again. Actually, Whores did punch the Proustian ticket on 1988-89, when Soul Kiss utterly confused us and made a lie of the title "nothing's shocking". Gone are the years and the Perkinsish ringlets (for him moreso than for me).
I'm just finishing Fred the Clown by Roger Langridge. It's Chris-Ware-lite on Fantagraphics, with liberal doses of Mad Magazine. Everyone likes seeing clowns suffer in hilarious misery, yes?
- Mood:
bitchy - Music:MMW
Comments
Vaguely-related: yesterday I had occasion to listen, involuntarily, to a little bit of the Red Hot Chili Peppers' Mother's Milk. It hasn't aged well (but then, neither have I). And there's an instrumental number on there of which Crazy Town's horrid "Butterfly" ('Girl, me and you is like Sid and Nancy') is virtually a note-for-note ripoff.
Whores wasn't all bad, but Navarro can remember nothing, PF is such a raging asshole, and finally I wonder if the net couldn't have been cast a bit wider. Too much trouble is made to anoint JA as the precursor to the Seattle scene, and too little is made of the LA post-punk scene from which they originated. Still, it brought back fond memories for me, watching Soul Kiss & thinking "this is the 'next Zepellin'?", finding (& passing on) the vinyl Nothing's Shocking when I was all about Zodiac Mindwarp/Guns N Roses/Blue Cheer bloooz, and various other contact-buzz memories from the Ritual days. ah...misspent and undercharged youth.
speaking of Navarro, his maribou-covered self was amongst the empanelled judiciary deciding the fates of wannabe INXS singers the other night. WTF? Other than a predeliction for autoerotic asphyxiation, what qualifies Navarro to weed a Hutchins-son from the suchandsuch?
Should I be watching that INXS singer program?
Also, 'Hutchins-son from the suchandsuch'? That's a nice turn of phrase.
And also also, I seem to only be able to stand RHCP when they're paired with an appealing producer--either George Clinton or, to a much lesser degree, Rick Rubin, basically.
Re: INXS, I only know what I've seen on The Soup, which is a skewed filter that prevents me making any recommendations. I suppose if you like singing-contest reality, but thought the number of INXS tunes was sadly underrepresented (if not the entire Aussie songbook of the 80's), then I'd say you are really missing out. Still, it might be a thrill to see Navarro raiding his wife's closet every week so as to identify himself as the transgressive amongst the once-and-future-INXS.
did Clinton produce Uplift? My memory fails me. As to Rubin, you think Blood Sugar Sex Magick ages any better than Mother's Milk? I wonder if anyone is so devoted to Rubin that they'd be prepared to assure me he has more than a couple tricks up his sleeve. Sure, they're good tricks, but with numbers so low, it leaves one with the feeling that he lacks breadth or else is protective of the notion of "a Rick Rubin album".
I kinda doubt Rubin has any sonic/engineering tricks (anyway, it's hard to imagine the kind of tricks that could be used with LL Cool J, Slayer and Johnny Cash), but he seems to be able to get good work out of people, and maybe even encourage them to choose their songs wisely. The RHCP gentlemen could probably benefit from these kinds of skills.
If memory serves, Clinton produced both Uplift and Freaky Styley, but I could certainly be wrong.
Hmm. Perhaps I'll try to catch the INXS thing. I've watched worse.
weaklyweekly? For 13 weeks?Frankly, I prefer Brooke Burke when she was mostly nekkid on E! and Navarro when he was mostly nekkid on MTV. My Tuesday reality fix is hopelessly backward (BBCAmerica) and Spurlock (en-?)grosses me on Wednesdays.
am i horrible for loving "one hot minute?"
and dave navarro isn't really there to judge, so much as to look pretty. think of him as an extension of brooke burke, not the INXS band members. the whole thing is set up like american idol, so "we the audience" actually get to vote people off; dave doesn't.
i like the INXS show, but that's probably because i never liked INXS. i just like seeing people get up and try to do songs i love; the red-headed heather chick did a great jefferson airplane.
well, if he's just there to look pretty, he's doing a damn fine job. Still, I wish there had been more episodes of Till Death Do Us Part instead. It beats Meet the Barkers by a stretch.
I just can't get into talent-show shows. I prefer my reality to be freakish, like Being Bobby Brown. That shit's addictive.
Have you heard about his band Camp Freddy?
haven't seen being bobby brown either, no cable. i hear it's...well, candid.
i hadn't heard of that band. i remember hearing dave had a new band, but i swear it was called something else...it started with a d and ended with a d, because he was freaking out because his name does, too....