Bugg Blog

So long blogger...

2009-05-19T18:18:00.001-04:00

My new home on the web is here.

Everyone leave a note telling me that you've found me.

See you there.

Not much going on...

2009-05-07T13:37:00.002-04:00

It's pretty boring over here in Bugg land. Some stuff to do around the house and nothing really happening in my professional life. It seems like everything is in this weird holding pattern. I'm getting ready to relaunch this blog at a new address within the next two weeks or so, and I just wanted to give everyone a heads up on it happening.

I'm probably not going to be writing as much about music. Instead, the blog will be a place to jot down thoughts, random observations and fun things I've found. I guess one of the reasons I've been neglecting this place is that my dedication to music has sort of stymied this blog. Soon, I'm going to have another place for that. So we'll see what happens.

I guess the question I have for everyone who reads this (and please do leave a comment, it only takes a second) is what do you come here for, the tunes or to hear what I'm up to? I'm interested. Let's turn this soapbox into a dialog.

I'm interested in finding out.

Until later, be good.

To boldly go where men (might have) gone before...

2009-05-05T12:52:00.003-04:00

Star Trek. I'm not a big fan at all, but the prospect of the new movie being either awesome or sheer crap has me interested.

I have a few friends who are Star Trek enthusiasts and recently they showed me an episode called "The Balance of Terror".

It was actually a pretty good episode. There's a neat battle with the Romulans and some other cool stuff, with just enough of a cheesy sci-fi edge to it for me to enjoy on a couple of levels.

With that being said, there's a scene that is so homo erotic in the episode that I had to share it with you. (For the record, I'm not threatened or anything by homosexuality, but when it pops up in places I didn't expect it, I have a laugh).

The scene starts with Yeoman Rand is in the room serving Kirk tea, and he is really cold and distant towards her. The lighting in the room is red and weird and there is a palatable tension between the two. Just as Rand is leaving Bones walks into Kirk's quarters, the ship mates- obviously worried about Kirk's condition- give each other an unfriendly look, and then Bones starts staring at Kirk while the light switches to blue. Soft violin music begins and the doctor and the captain have an exchange that goes like this:

Kirk: I wish I were on a long sea voyage somewhere; not too much deck tennis, no frantic dancing – and no responsibility. Why me? I look around that bridge, I see the men waiting for me to make the next move. And Bones – what if I'm wrong?

Bones: Captain...

Kirk: No, I don't really expect an answer.

Bones: But I've got one; something I seldom say to a... customer, Jim. In this galaxy, there's a mathematical probability of three million Earth-type planets. And, in all the universe, three million million galaxies like this. And in all of that – and perhaps more – only one of each of us. . . Don't destroy the one named 'Kirk'.

What the hell is that? Seriously? Are they in love with each other? Is this a big swath of sixties melodrama? Someone explain this to me.

To prove that I'm not making this up, here's the clip of the scene in mp3 form.

Any help on this would be great.

Be good.

"A House Made of Music"

2009-05-04T13:58:00.003-04:00

It's 3 pm on a Monday afternoon and my speaking voice sounds something like Rod Stewart, but not the good Rod Stewart. You know, the young and full of fire, hot and dating Britt Ekland and I'm sure they fuck a ton and he always has on a great scarf in 1976 Rod? That's not me. Instead, I sound a lot like the bloated and overly tan, having swilled one too many martinis with Ronnie Wood era Rod Stewart. Less "Hot Legs" and more "Fooled Around and Fell in Love". That's me.

The reason for today's inherent Rodness is because of Bruce Springstreen and the house rockin', pants droppin', booty shakin', earth quakin', Viagra takin', love makin' E Street Band in Greensboro (or as the sign says, Steensboro, North Carolina).

I had resigned myself due to poverty issues that I wasn't going to get to see The Boss this time around, and then last week through Facebook, a pair of tickets fell into my lap via a friend, and we had to go. So, with a few quick phone calls we were off to see what was Jessica's first Springsteen concert and my second one (and first one since 2003).

At first I was a bit nervous because the seats were not that great (the map on TicketMaster made the seats seem like they were behind the band and in the corner of the arena. I immediately had flashbacks of Van Halen at the Bobcats Arena in Charlotte, when the entire back was blocked by a curtain and no speakers we directed at us. Instead of seeing most of Van Halen's triumphant reunion I was subjected to views of their feet and the rattle of bass for almost an hour until I decided to move. This time, however I was surprised, not only were the seats within a decent vantage point of The Boss, but there were speakers for the people to the side and back of the stage, as well as video screens.

Just before the lights went out and the band hit the stage, a light-headed feeling came over me, like I was going to pass out. I was panicing for some reason, but just as the first wave of that subsided, the band came out, and the opening chords of "Badlands" began.

From that moment on, I was caught up in the moment. "Badlands" gave way to "Raise Your Hands" and I just kept rolling with the punches. The entire concert was like a great fight, with the crowd constantly challanging the band to hit harder, faster and more devastating punches all while Bruce kept responding with body blows and devastating combinations.

Even his newer material from the "Working on a Dream" album was decent, including a wonderful little speech he gave during the middle of the album's title song: he vowed that tonight in Greensboro, that the audience and the band were going to work together to create something. They were going to take the old and replace it with the new. They were going to replace fear with hope, worry with promise, hate with love, and dread with joy. They were going to build a house made of music. Sure it's hysteronics, but the best rock n' roll is often built off of that.

Halfway through the show and I'm exhausted already. Jay Weinberg (Max Weinberg's son, who will be filling in for him when he goes on to The Tonight Show this summer) played the front half and encores of the show, and the band was looser, but harder rocking, thanks to Jay's Dave Grohl inspired druming. When Max finally appeared on stage, the band played tighter and dipped into their lesser known stuff, and Max showed off his more finesse-based drumming.

As the show worn on, I was impressed by Bruce's ability to turn a basketball arena into a tiny club. I suppose that's all a cliche by now, but it's beyond true. Bruce played to the entire room, going to all sides of the arena on just about every song, pointing at people in the crowd and interacting with them. As Jessica noted later, the guy is a showman and really knows how to work a crowd.

For me, one of the highlights of the night was seeing the "stump the band" segment. Some people have loved it, while some hated, but I thought that Bruce going around the arena and taking signs with song titles on it from fans was great. The two covers ("7th Son" and "Hang on Sloopy") were tremendous. He kept saying that they were the world's greatest bar band, and he proved it for me in Greensboro.

Just as soon as the concert bagan, the chords to "Born to Run" rang out. I remember being blown away that the song came before the encore. There couldn't be even more left in the tank, but somehow there was.

Encore songs included "Thunder Road", "Tenth Avenue Freeze Out" and "Glory Days", which were all pretty incredible. I left the show sweaty and tired. I have no idea how the band does it every night.

But they do. That's the biggest thing I took away from seeing Springsteen is how vital this guy still is. Sure his records are hit and miss, but the quality of his shows are legendary, and for good reason. I'd put any bad Springsteen show up against any good-to-great show by the current crop of rock stars. He's that good.

With that being said, I'd sure like my voice back.

I'm going to work on that, but until later, be good.

Project Fridays: Ladies' Night.

2009-05-01T13:04:00.001-04:00

Borthday

2009-05-01T02:32:00.002-04:00

Relationships began under duress never apparently have staying power, at least that's what numerous armchair Dr. Phil's out there will tell you. But sometimes friendship under duress is where the mettle is tested. Last year, I learned a lot about friendship.

I was coming out of a marriage fizzling and dying at my feet, losing just about everything I owned, rejecting my notion of who I wanted to be and what that person wanted out of life, trying to deal with the emotional fallout of all of those things, trying to get up the courage to press reset on my life at 30 years old, and falling in love with what has turned out to be the lady of my dreams. Through all of that stuff- the good, the bad and the bullshit there was Bort.

We lived together after my divorce, and if I can be rather idealistic I'd say we were both reeling. While I was going through all of these recent things, Bort was just beginning to deal with some old wounds and move on with his life. Maybe it was because I was there and he wasn't alone in that big house, or maybe because it was time to move on, Bort got by, and because of Bort being there, I didn't figure out a way to blow my brains out.

Most nights we ordered pizza, sat and got drunk, all while talking about everything from the profound to the inane, and we did it with a smile on our faces. Some nights we argued when one of us was being a prick, but for the most part we got along famously.

Today I live 45 miles away from the guy, and we don't hang out as much as we did then. To do that would be impossible and at this point faking it on some level. Instead, we are both in new places, trying to figure out what happens next in our lives. But we're still buddies. He's still my best friend on the planet, and today is his birthday.

On a Bort's Borthday we do many things, we drink, we eat food cooked over a flame and we will tell dirty jokes. We will talk about tweeking nipples and whether a man can give himself a disease that he doesn't already have by ejaculating into himself. But most importantly we will have fun and laugh, because there's always time for that.

In a lot of ways my friends are my family. They took care of me when the proverbial dung hit the proverbial oscillating fan a year ago, which according to my introductory paragraph is the true test of a friendship. I don't want any of my friends to go through anything as hard as what I went through, but if they do, I'll be there to take care of them. That's what family does.

Although I don't think they'll want to go to Bonnaroo and be forced to sleep side by side in the back of a Subaru Impreza due to the crappy weather all while on mushrooms. But Bort and I did it, and we survived to tell about it. In fact, we took a video of it, and here it is:

Sure, it's some dumb shit, but it was awesome.

Happy Borthday Bort. I hope it's better for you than this pithy little blog post.

Expect a Project Fridays later today. Until then, be good.

Stuff's a happening

2009-04-30T14:08:00.002-04:00

First off, here's a few articles that were published this week.

Against Me!

Brad Downs

So check those out.

In other news, my long threatened blog relaunch is picking up steam, which means that in a few short weeks, you people are going to have to update your browsers because this place is going the way of the dodo.

Writing work has slowed down a lot, but I keep plugging away. I'm probably going to have to go get a dreaded day job soon, but I hold out hope for more work. I've whined about how humiliating it is to beg for work from editors before so I'll spare you, but it doesn't get easier. Maybe a nice weekend away from my worries is what I need.

Luckily, that is happening this weekend. Friday is Bort's birthday (or his Borthday, as we call it) and I'm thinking that a trip out to his house and a chance to consume alcohol is just what I need. Then Saturday Jessica and I are going to see Bruce Springsteen in Greensboro. This I am excited for. It's my first Bruce show since '03 and Jessica's first show. Hopefully the seats (which by the looks of things appear to be a tad bit behind the stage) won't be too bad and we can dance our heads off.

Wednesday was supposed to be The Gaslight Anthem in Chapel Hill, but I'm not sure if that is going to happen. I don't really have anyone local to go with and it's kind of a crappy drive, but we'll see. If anything, maybe Jess and I could sneak into see The Presidents of the United States of America at the Orange Peel on the same night.

It's weird, I've been writing so much about music on here that I don't ever seem to write about me. I'm not paying as much attention to the words I use and how they go together. I think sometimes that learning to AP style and adhearing to it has striped part of my voice away. I like using cliches for some reason, and yet I have this subconcious need to shy away from them. I guess that is lazy and boring writing, but this is a blog- why waste my "A" material on you people?

Just kidding, I love you.

Except you. Yeah you. Go fuck yourself.

More real soon.

Be good.

Lou Barlow: The Bugg Blog Interview

2009-04-29T00:11:00.004-04:00

Lou Barlow is the bass player for Dinosaur Jr. and when I was 17, I wanted to be him. His work with Sebadoh, a band that started off as a side project for Barlow and ended up as his full time gig inspired me. In the early nineties, it was the less macho version of that weird angsty metal that you here today. While Limp Bizkit made it okay for frat boys to talk about their feelings, Barlow's love songs and confessions of indie rock nerdom were little clues that it was okay for Pavement fans to have an inner James Taylor. I just dug him so much. Minor Threat was the soundtrack to my teenage rage, but Barlow's songs were the quiet little odes to the lovesick part of me.

When Dinosaur Jr. came to Asheville in November of 2007, I immediately jumped at the chance to interview the guy. After all, he was one of my heroes.

When both the paper I pitched the article to (the Mountain Xpress, back when they had an editor that cared about music and not about being nice to people at parties) and the band's publicist agreed to let me interview Barlow I was beyond excited. I managed to breathe slowly and speak clearly enough for him to understand. The interview turned from a puff piece about Dinosaur Jr.'s then brand new album Beyond and into a fan just asking questions about the minutia of Barlow's past, and to his credit he didn't mind.

So this may be a bit self indulgent, but it's worth it. I present to you, straight outta '07, the Bugg Blog interview with Lou Barlow.

Bugg: Hey how are you doing?

Barlow: Doing well.

Bugg: First of all thanks for doing this, you have no clue how big of a fan I am. This might turn into me gushing over you, and I apologize for that.

Barlow: No problem.

Bugg: The last time you were in town you did an in store at a place called Harvest Records, and I think I made you cry, and I just want to apologize for that.

Barlow: You made me cry?

Bugg: Yeah, I requested "Think (Let Tomorrow Be)" and you said in the middle of the song that you had just ran into the person who you wrote that song about in D.C. and you got really embarrassed. I just wanted to apologize for that. It seemed like an awkward moment for you.

Barlow: (lauging) Dude, I don't remember, oh my god.

Bugg: I think the first thing you said when you got on stage was like 'This is my worst fear: being stoned and embarrassed in front of everyone" and I felt like I contributed to the one that you don't want to contribute to versus the one that I should have tried to contribute to.

Barlow: Oh god. I remember that. I'm kind of a veteran at that stuff and I don't really get that rattled. But I was kind of in Dinosaur Jr. mode and switching gears was pretty hard. I seem to remember having a good time, though. It was pretty intense.

Bugg: I've been a fan of yours since I was around 15 years old. I've followed your work with Dinosaur and Sebadoh, and I'm pretty familiar with all of the stories about the dynamic that you and J. seem to have, and I'm wondering now that the band is back together is it one of those 'we're older and wiser' things- like the animosity has mellowed out or is it still there?

Barlow: The dynamic is still there, I think that we've mellowed though. I think we decided that we can deal with it. I think we've both been through enough to know that musical chemistry is a pretty important thing. I'm very comfortable with the relationship that I have with J., as ambiguous as that may be.

Bugg: J's a drummer by nature, according to everything that I've read. I remember hearing that there was always tension in the band because he would record demos of the songs with the drums exactly how he wanted them played in the band-

Barlow: Yeah, he did that while I was in the band too.

Bugg: Really?

Barlow: Towards the end, yeah sure.

Bugg: Is he still doing that with Murph now?

Barlow: He's doing the same thing. It's okay. Their dynamic is pretty crazy too, because J knows what he wants Murph to play and then it becomes like a familiar and very drawn out process of J communicating what he needs from Murph. When you have in your head what you want the drums to be you can't just play a CD for someone and have them learn it. Well you can, but those people are called studio drummers, and Murph is a real drummer. He's a real, self taught fuckin' drummer. You have to match what J wants with his own sometimes idiosyncratic rhythms and how Murph learns them. It's really incredible. It can take a really long time or it can take ten minutes if J sits down and shows Murph what he wants. J. is just sort of adverse to making things simple (laughs).

Bugg: When I saw you guys on the reunion tour and the volume of the show, and I'm not saying this in some curmugeonly 'turn it down, kids' way, was almost like a fourth member of your band. The more I hear about your band when they first got together I keep hearing that the volume was a big part of it even back then. Why is that?

Barlow: J has this thing, and it's kind of what Wayne Coyne from the Flaming Lips has, it's a similar philosophy, it's like make it fuckin' loud! and that's where they started from. Make it loud because that's what people want. Not only because that's what people want, but also because I think that a lot of J's formitive experiences with music was going to see music and getting his fucking ass kicked by a really loud band.

Bugg: How was it coming from doing a Sebadoh tour to doing a Dinosaur tour? I know you guys had a period where you were loud, but nowhere near as loud as Dinosaur.

Barlow: Fuck no, we played at half the volume and we're still loud.

Bugg: How is that juxtaposition?

Barlow: I can't hear anything when it's that loud. But it has to be that way. With J and Murph and the way that I learned those songs, so much of it is based on the physical part of it. It's like a set of muscles, it's really physical. With something like Sebadoh, it's pretty breezy in comparison. There's a lot of me looking at the other guys in the band, keeping things simple. Sebadoh is really loose and to be loud would kind of destroy that dynamic that we have in the band.

Bugg: How do you balance your writing for Dinosaur, your solo stuff, or Sebadoh?

Barlow: I kind of found a while ago, and its just started to sink in, that the more people I write with the better the songs that I'm writing are. We worked on the Dinosaur album for a little while, and it was kind of taking shape with just J's songs, but I kind of felt like I had something in me to contribute. I wanted to write something so that Murph could write his own beats and I'm going to write it from the ground up. Then we'll bring J into it when I have some structure. Then when I got home from writing with Dinosaur I started four tracking. I really felt like texturally that I was going through a good spot. I'm starting to rediscover texture because Dinosaur is about texture, and some of my old stuff was also. But when I was writing on my own I really started to rediscover that, and it made it interesting.

Bugg: You had your background in hardcore, but Dinosaur seemed like a hardcore band that was filtered through seventies rock. How much of what you guys did in the beginning was a reaction against hardcore?

Barlow: Hardcore was becomming very structured, but I was also 17 at the time, so my mind was opening up. There was so much great college radio at the time where I lived. We were really into buying records and mail ordering records so naturally at that time, there was so much stuff like The Birthday Party, The Cure, Joy Division and all of this other stuff. I always just kind of thought of us as really open minded about music and not sticking to something primative like punk. Hardcore was so unimaginative and just not doing it for me.

Bugg: It seems like people either thought that punk was something very fluid that could change or this rigid thing that said it was about growth and change but in reality was very ritualistic.

Barlow: There's also this metal thing, I think in '85 there was the rise of Metallica and all of these metal bands that were really great. It was a great time to listen to that stuff.

Bugg: Do you think anything like that's happening today?

Barlow: I think it's one big cluster fuck.

Bugg: Is it harder to spot the great bands that are out there?

Barlow: Not for me. The Walkmen are a band that are totally a great band. They are great live and they put out really interesting, progressive records, and are experimenting constantly. Sometimes the tendency is to know that there isn't anything great out there, but then it doesn't take me long to think of something that is great. Like Panda Bear from the Animal Collective. His latest album is really creative, probably one of the most creative albums I've heard, it's so fucking great. I can always find something that I love. I'm not nostalgic for any time, when Dinosaur was starting or Sebadoh, I don't think of those as great times, just times.

Bugg: Well Dinosaur came out in that really awesome time for SST, and then Sebadoh came in during a pretty fruitful time for indie rock, so you rode two seperate waves in.

Barlow: I know, it was really cool. I was really fortunate to be involved in the times I was. I was fortunate to be making music and interested in music at the time.

Bugg: Back to Dinosaur- you and J took a few potshots at each other back in the 90s, was coming back together harder because of that?

Barlow: Not really. We just thought if we're going to set it aside, we're going to set it aside. I can't say, I'm going to play with you but I'm still made about this. I mean you just have to put it aside or not do it.

Bugg: Is it weird that when you left the band you were this underground thing, and now you are back and playing talk shows and stuff?

Barlow: Not really, because J built a following in the 90s. He had some crossover hits. He did really well in the 90s. Because of that and those audiences that he built up they care about the band. But I'm not surprised by the reception we've been getting. If The Pixies can get together and make millions of dollars playing shows then there is no reason Dinosaur can't get together and play a few packed shows.

The band is really good, the records have a lot of integrity and the music is pretty good. There's no reason why we can't play some shows.

Bugg: Thanks for your time, man

Barlow: Thank you.

As an added bonus, I want to include one of my favorite songs from Lou's early days with Sebadoh, "Soulmate". It's a fun little song that spoke to the 17 year old in me.

Sebadoh- Soulmate"

More later.

Until then, be good.

Dinosaur Jr. and Mike Watt at the Orange Peel

2009-04-28T23:50:00.002-04:00

I know the sound isn't great, mostly because taping Dinosaur with a pretty cheap digital camera is like holding an umbrella in a hurricane, but that performance of "Little Furry Things" from the band's second album You're Living All Over Me pretty much sums up everything I love about Dinosaur: the sweet but nowhere near perfect harmonies, the traditional rock songs covered with massive amounts of noise and distortion and Lou Barlow's fuzz bass. Epic.

The concert itself was damn good. Not as good as the band's initial reunion tour, but better than last time. They relied more upon their pre-1990 back catalog and less off of their comeback album Beyond, which was decent but unremarkable.

Mike Watt opened up for the band and he was damn good. High energy and eager to please the crowd. I recognized a few Minutemen songs and even a fIREHOSE tune. Good stuff.

Until later, be good.

Repelling from the Wall of Sound

2009-04-27T15:42:00.001-04:00

Last night was the Dinosaur Jr./Mike Watt show at the Orange Peel. I'll have more on that later, but for right now I wanted to move away from the loud guitars and back to something that will help me appreciate the loud punk rock-seventies guitar rock cross pollination that I witnessed last night (for the third year in a row).

Last year it seemed like everyone spoke at length about Fleet Foxes and how they had released this wonderful album. I don't know, I tend to shy away from hype because it never really lives up to what I've built things up to be in my head. But this afternoon I finally sat down and really listened to the album.

It's damn good. There's just enough choral vocals wrapping around acoustic guitars, piano and old-time feeling melodies. I might be in love with this album. I'm not sure yet, we might just date for a little while and see how it feels.

I keep racking my brain trying to figure out what it is about this album that I'm digging, and I think the biggest thing is that the songs seem so foreign to me right now. They have melodies and choruses and traditional structures, but they are presented in a way that they are no longer songs, they are just these gorgeous cascades of noise. It really is beautiful.

So if you are like me and a bit worn out from loud guitar rock today, give Fleet Foxes a listen.

Fleet Foxes- Sun It Rises

Until later, be good.

Mike Watt- The Bugg Blog Interview

2009-04-25T07:09:00.007-04:00

To sum up who Mike Watt is or what Mike Watt does will probably leave something important about the guy out. So instead, I'll give you the Cliff's Notes version: Mike Watt, San Pedro California, D. Boon's bass player in the Minutemen, member of fIREHOSE, solo artists, punk rock legend, member of the reformed Stooges, session ace, storyteller and the person who truly defines punk rock. It was on a whim and for a proposed relaunch of my blog that I spoke to Watt about a month ago, and he was gracious, enthusiastic, mournful, funny and charming. I'll do the best I can to try to convey all of these in the text I'm providing for you. So here's Watt, in as close to his own words as I can muster.
Bugg: I'm completely nervous, so if I stutter or sound like a fool, it's only because I've looked up to you for so long, so excuse me.

Watt: No, it's okay.

Bugg: Last night I stayed up and watched the We Jam Econo DVD, and the thing that struck me about the movie, and you've probably heard this a lot, is that D. Boon and you didn't know that you had to tune your strings. It was almost like you guys had this naiveté about your music, did that help you create something that was new? Your band didn't sound like anybody, did that push you into creating what you did in the Minutemen?

Watt: Yeah. (laughs) But we also were part of a movement that had crazy people taking chances and that helped, too. We had nerve to try things by hearing those records and seeing those gigs, seeing The Germs, watching The Dills or Black Flag, or hearing records by Wire or Pop Group, you know? It just seemed like it was a scene where you could try anything you wanted to, if you got into it. All of us had different backgrounds and were different kinds of people. I think it was a concious effort to try not to copy each other because we had respect for each other. But there was this kind of motivation thing we were all sharing, inspiring each other. Wow, they're trying that? We should try this! That was what the scene was about, trying to imagine, you know?

Bugg: What's weird is that all of those bands from that scene did things differently, but you could still boil them down to a common thread, and yet with the Minutemen, there wasn't that same thread. You guys had the whole Beefheart thing, and it was so different.

Watt: Oh yeah, well when we heard about punk we didn't know what it was. It was a weird word, it was guys who got fucked in jail for cigarettes, and then we saw the bands. It seemed like with Beefheart and The Stooges, and even down to Little Richard and Jerry Lee Lewis it was already being done. It was just new for us, finding out about it and realizing that's what music was. Because music had changed to Arena Rock and lost some of those things, and so it was a discovery.

Like clubs. We never went to clubs until punk, we went to arenas because all music had switched to arenas. You know, during the sixties there was a huge club scene, and by the time that the seventies came it was all lost on us.

There was a different slant to things, kind of a personal slant, because it was like through our eyes trying to get a handle on things. We didn't even know that music was done by just people. We thought that they were special anointed ones from Mount Olympus or something. I got into music to hang out with D. Boon, I wasn't a musician- his mom put me on bass and shit. We didn't even know that you could use music to try to express yourself. We just tried to copy songs off records.

You know, the mentality of the seventies was pretty naive in a way. No one we knew wrote their own songs. Nowadays that's a matter of fact. You could imagine the era there.

The Minutemen were feeling around in their own darkness and stumlin' around. So maybe we came up with our own style. I look back and it was pretty hilarous. It'd be hard to recreate those days. After punk, it's like unringing the bell. The seventies created such a weird scene. The punk scene was very small and there wasn't a lot of people doing it, in England it got pretty big fast, but in the U.S. it was pretty small.

So it was kind of a personal trip, there wasn't much success, but I think you did it for other things. Success was a more personal thing, like finding your own voice. So we wanted to do our thing, you know. We wanted to do our version of this. What would a punk band from Pedro sound like? There wasn't one, so we didn't have anybody to copy.

God going up to Hollywood, a lot of people didn't even know where Pedro was or that it even existed. SoCal is so Balkanised. A lot of people don't know anything about the other parts of the metro area.

Bugg: Well, when I went to L.A., I can remember looking for Pedro thinking it was a little artists community, but instead it was military housing.

Watt: (laughs) Yeah, there's a harbor and a lot of industry. It's pretty much a working town. It is changing, they closed the army base and gave it to the city for Angel Gate Cultural Center. The old army barracks have been rented out to artists. I've got the oldest lease in the area, that's where I've practiced for the last 22 years. There's actually painters there and shit. On seventh street there is some gallaries- there's a little bit of art there.

Bugg: Well I was wondering, because a year ago I interviewed John Doe and he spoke of the early days of punk as an art thing, like the arty kids did punk rock, but you guys never seemed very arty. To me, the Minutemen seemed very working class.

Watt: That's because we were. D. Boon did know how to paint, though. That was as close as we got to art. When I met Pettibone at the punk shows, he became my best friend. He taught me about Dada and surrialism, and that there was artistic movements 60 or 70 years ago that's kind of close to the punk thing.

You could tell that a lot of these cats in the bands were just learning. They weren't rock and rollers at all. In fact, a lot of rock n' rollers didn't like punk at all. These were provacative people that were mixed in with kind of a sixties vibe a little bit. A little bit meaning that they weren't passive like the hippies. They were very in your face, it was kind of like the Rocky Horror Picture Show mixed with some kind of Stooges or MC5 trip. That's kind of what it was like.

To us, all we knew was that they were trying to write their own songs and make their own records and they'd let anybody play. That's what we liked about it, and that's what we picked up on. In Pedro it was a trip because nobody knew about our town. I came out here from Virginia when I was 10, my father was a sailor and it was closer to Veitnam, so all of my world was all Pedro. For me to come out and meet all of these people that didn't know anything about Pedro it was kind of a trip.

Then hardcore came and it reminded us of a hippie thing. It was young kids singing about their parents and society. The older punks were from Glitter and Glam, and they didn't really sing about their parents. These other people were singing about the suburbs, it was all pretty alien to us. Both worlds were. Both sides of punk were trippy to Pedro guys, but like I said, the opportunity to do and create things was very profound on us. Even though we couldn't identify with a lot of that stuff that was new, it put us in a position to learn new things and to try knew things because of it.

I remember we never wanted to move. When we started playing people would tell us that it was happening up in Hollywood and that we should move there. Me and D. Boon talked about it once and we thought what the fuck are we going to write songs about, Hollywood?. It's close enough, about thirty miles away, so we can drive there and do gigs, but let's stay here in Pedro. Pedro was kind of like a thermos bottle too; we grew up there and there was a secure thing about it. But there was something grounding about living there. You know Mrs. Marple, how she would solve crimes by relating to stuff in her hometown? That's how we would be, you know? So it was kind of a prism for us.

Bugg: You talk about punk rock and art as something that was passed down to you. Growing up in my part of North Carolina, it was hard to find punk rock. I remember starting to skateboard and people would hand you a mixtape with the Circle Jerks and the Dead Kennedys on one side and gangsta rap on the other, because that's what skateboarders listened to and both were impossible to find at the time. Now I appreciate that kids can go to the mall and find the music, but at the same time, is it sad that the exploration has been taken out of punk? I mean the music and the fashion is just preprogrammed in.

Watt: Yeah. I think you lose the sense of possibility, because I hear people talk about how it's all been done. It should never be that way. This might be a lame example, but Trotsky talked about this thing called a permanent revolution. He said that the art isn't in the knife, it's what can be carved from the knife. A lot of the time thing, like when you're born and shit, that's circumstance, and you can't do anything about that. Like I said before, you can't unring the bell. You can't reinvent that time of the seventies when you were naive and stupid and then this other world came and you thought fuck it, you can try anything. Young people aren't damned for not being able to do that. In some ways, they have it better because there is more information that is accessable. But they've gotta make sure that the mentality don't get fouled, like there's no possibility that these things can be done. I think that's the responsiblity of some people from the older days to not make it too sentimental. That's just the days that I'm from, it doesn't make them better days, it just makes them different days.

I can't imagine growing up in North Carolina. We only had to drive thirty miles from our cultural stix. You cats, wow. I used to think that when we started touring and we'd see these smaller towns.

Bugg: I was in a band that would cover hardcore songs, but also do arena rock songs or Motown covers and people just didn't get us. I think that's one reason I looked up to you. You were part of this big scene and yet you covered Steely Dan songs and Van Halen songs. Did you do that because there were no rules?

Watt: That's what we thought. We didn't know anarchy was a slogan, we thought it was for real. Not the idea of violence and all that, but more along the lines of no cohersion. You let the freak flag fly, man. Like I was saying earlier, it was not the style of music, but the state of mind. It was up to each band to find their own style, and that was from them trippin' on the stuff that was already out there. Woody Guthrie or John Coletrain, examples like those were really important to us.

I grew up in Navy housing and I'd never heard jazz. One day Pettibone was playing me some stuff and I thought they were playing punk too, they were just older. It sounded so insane and unique to my ears because I was so used to such market niche provided bullshit. It wasn't all bullshit, but it was just one dimension. Music is a huge and broad artistic spectrum. Paiting and literature are too, and we had to figure out a way to reflect all of that, our mids were being blown by this scene, and we had to figure out a way to reflect that in our music. Everything went.

There was a lot of humor in punk, a lot of making funof yourself or calling yourself out. That way, you could do something about it. We just tried to be honest about the stuff, no sacred cows.

Bugg: About the jazz thing, as you've gotten older.

Watt: Less young.

Bugg: Excuse me, as you've gotten less young you've reminded me of a jazz cat- playing with tons of people, doing your own thing. Is that kind of how you envisioned getting less young?

Watt: Music without D. Boon was a hard thing for me to face. But I decided to keep going and I thought that I'd just put myself into challenging situations where I am forced to learn, maybe there's something to that.

I thought for a long time that the only reason I was in music was to be with D. Boon, that's the only reason people wanted to hear me play. It was really hard when I lost him. So that's when I decided. Then I got really brave after fIREHOSE and decided not to have just one band anymore, to just keep putting myself in different situations. It was really hard to do that because I'm a pretty insecure person. But that's why I'm all over the place. Sometimes I'm trying to give the directions and sometimes I'm trying to take them.

Bugg: Is this band you're playing with in Asheville the bass-drum organ band?

Watt: No, that's the Secondmen, this is the Missing Men. I put this band together for my third opera. It's a guitar-bass-drums band.

Bugg: In the We Jam Econo film you talk about playing more and more R&B based bass guitar stuff. A similar thing happened to me a few years ago, and now it's gotten to the point where it's all I listen to, what is it about that music that just grabs you? I get tired of hearing white people sing sometimes. It has no passion. I am pretty much an atheist, but I love hearing black people sing gospel music.

Watt: There's a certain thing about it. In arena rock, bass was relegated, like in right field in Little League where you put your retarded friend. But in R&B they have no notion of that. In fact, the guitar players get very small to give the bass player all sorts of room. If you're a person that knows music, you know that's one way of doing things, but for the Minutemen, that was this incredible way of doing things. Of course we were hearing Motown and Sly Stone and we thought that it was not in our place. Anything goes, so why not try it. We heard Pop Group mix Beefheart and Parliament and we thought why not?

This all fit in with D. Boon's notions of a band. You know, we're young men, after twelve years of propaganda and civics class. He really organized the band as this political thing. He wanted to bring the bass and the drums up and not have the hierarchy that we were used to growing up.

But R&B already had that thing going on. James Jamerson, you know, Jesus that guy.

You're right about the church thing. A lot of those people learned that music in church, you know, the gospel experience. Even some white singers like Elvis had it.

I did a session with this lady, she won a game show. What's her name? (long pause) Kelly [Clarkson]. She told me she learned how to sing in church. I think in church you're going off with the spirit and you have no reservations. You're trying to get emotional. Maybe that feeling comes through and that's why it got into R&B and rock n' roll. Little Richard was big in rock n' roll.

In the U.S. music has always been about mixing stuff up, so rock n' roll wasn't always a white thing. I don't know what happened, maybe it was marketing that screwed it up.

Bugg: You recorded with Kelly Clarkson from American Idol?

Watt: Yeah, someone asked me to come in and record six songs with her. He let me try stuff and it was cool. She came into the studio and she was just regular people, she didn't really have a posse or anything. She never really started in bands, she told me she learned in church. She could really sing.

It was a weird situation, I'm not really a session guy, but I'll try anything once. I know she's from mersch [merchandising] and that game show is all mersch, but they let me just go for it and try all sorts of things. The guitar player who wrote the songs knew all about my music and my early stuff.

After a couple of years punk is not a fringe thing. For young people it's expected that they are going to have some punk years. So it's not weird that people doing mersch things know about my music and my history. But if they are respectful and they aren't trying to play hand puppets with you, why not try it?

Bugg: Thanks for your time man.

Watt: No problem, thank you.

Project Fridays: Pow Wows and Punk Rock

2009-04-24T00:55:00.004-04:00

In an effort to both drive up the commenting here at the Bugg Blog as well as to completely rip off two blogs that I love, The Driftwood Singers Present and I am Fuel-You are Friends, I will now be highlighting music that I love and that people should hear every Friday, weather and real life permitting. Songs that as my girlfriend says are "the undiscovered, the rediscovered, the recently uncovered and a few that should stay under the covers." As a disclaimer for those with prying eyes, I am not a fan of illegally downloading music, so the songs I highlight will be songs from albums that I have bought and paid for and are to be downloaded for demonstration only. If any lawyer type wants me to take the song down, feel free to shoot me a line.

It's been long established around these parts that outside of my southern roots I have no heritage. I suppose that's what draws me to heritage: the need explore something that I don't have. That is also what makes me want to stick my penis inside of women, so why can't it work on something lofty like culture?

I'm of the opinion that it can. Because of this, one of the most fascinating things in the world to me is the Indian Reservation that I live about 10 miles from. My girlfriend teaches fourth grade there, and I try to go over and catch any sort of cultural thing that's happening. From what I gather, the culture is in danger of dying off (no thanks to us white dudes- but not me, I have no thirst for land), and so there is a huge push to teach these children about the language and history of their people. One of the things they do to get these children excited is to have a Pow Wow.

I'd never been to anything like this, and seeing it was pretty cool. It made me realize how cool it is that these children have a culture and a rich history. Sure there were hardships and atrocities along the way, but to be standing at the base of all that history is impressive. So impressive, that I really had to search my life to find something like that that was handed down to me.

Granted, nothing in my life is as important as a culture or history like the Cherokee have, but there have been a few things that sort of compare. Perhaps the biggest was this 90 minute Maxell cassette that I was given in eight grade when I feel into the skateboarding clique at my junior high school.

I don't remember the track list verbatim, but I know that every kid that skated had a copy of this tape. It was punk rock, and it was what skaters listened to (or at least that's what I was told). Side one featured songs by the Dead Kennedy's and the Circle Jerks. I'd never heard of either band, and wasn't ready for what I heard on those tapes. I remember there were songs about dropping atomic bombs on people and killing the poor. It was too much for my brain to handle. I know I would listen to small bits of it at a time. It was almost like it was poison that I had to get used to. My entire musical education prior to this was hearing hair metal, the top 40 music my uncle Tim (who happens to be Cherokee) listened to, the country music my grandpa loved so much and the Motown that seemed to be everywhere.

But that tape was so awesome because it was music that was mine. It made me part of an in crowd. It was music that not too many people had heard and when I listened to it I was instantly dangerous. They say that your first memory of money really informs how you look at your finances for the rest of your life, and I think the same thing goes with the first music you really absorb into your body. This punk rock made me feel part of a larger community, it made me realize the wonderful things that happen when music is passed around between people, and it made me realize that Axl Rose and Bret Michaels were both douche bags.

Later on, I learned as much as I could about this punk rock. Nirvana happend and I found other bands. I got heavy into indie rock, and then I went back and found all of the old rock n' roll that I'd missed along the way. There's a cliche about punk that says something like "punk rock changed my life", and it's true. Punk rock did change my life. You probably wouldn't be reading this blog if not for punk rock.

But back to the Pow Wow. The thing about the Cherokee culture that I don't "get" is that it seems hopeless. Not the people, but the education. They are so rooted in their past, that they don't really concentrate on their future. If the only music that sounded like that casette tape was the music on that tape, I would have given up and worked in a bank for the rest of my life, but there was more out there. Sometimes I get the feeling that a big reason the culture in Cherokee seems to stop is that there really isn't a representation of an Indian in popular culture that isn't wearing feathers and chanting.

I could be way off base here but check out this theory I have, it's called "The Sitcom Theory". Chico and the Man was a pretty important show. It showed that Latinos could be funny and non threatening. But the George Lopez show is probably more important, because it showed that Latinos could be your neighbors. It's the same thing with Good Times and The Cosby Show. Both important, but one showed the particular group succeeding in mainstream culture. That has to be powerful for all the people invovled. In fact, I doubt that Obama would be President without Theo Huxtable teaching us how to "Jam it on the One".

Indians (or Native Americans, to those of you who don't actually know any Indians) have very few things like this in popular culture. I'd love to see that change. I'd love for one of Jessica's students to grow up to be the first Indian President (mainly because I'd love for them to ship our white asses back to Europe), but for that to happen that kid needs some sort of tangible proof that he can do anything he wants to. Right now, they don't seem to have that.

So what does this have to do with Pow Wows and punk rock? I'm not sure. But I know that both are rights of passage. Both are moments when you see all of your cultures come together. Both inspire me to do something with whatever gifts I may have.

Maybe this entry is a little long winded and reeking of white guilt, but I wouldn't have it any other way. It's my blog and I can write whatever I want to.

But here's some punk rock for us all. In fact, it's the first song off of that mixtape I was given all of those years ago.

The Circle Jerks- Wonderful

Until later, be good.

2009-04-23T16:07:00.002-04:00

Lately I've been digging The Persuasions. Here's a clip of them from 1974 doing an Everly Brothers song and an old gospel number.

FUN FACT: The guy who interviews them is none other than Maury Povitch. No word on whether he sent their asses to boot camp when he was done.

Watch out for a new Project Fridays tomorrow.

Until then, be good.

Torture

2009-04-23T03:00:00.003-04:00

For those of you that aren't following the news, right now there seems to be a debate on whether or not we should prosecute those who ordered the torture of prisoners at Gitmo and Abu Ghraib (to name a few). It seems like voices come from the most unlikely of places. Here's Shep Smith of FOX News summing it up perfectly.

I don't want to sound dramatic or controversial for controversy's sake, but if we do not prosecute the people who ordered this, then we deserve every terrorist attack that comes from here on out. If we do not let everyone know that we are willing to admit that we strayed from the moral high road, then (to use a phrase the Bush supporters used to say ad infinitum) the terrorists have won. I hope they hang these fuckers for war crimes.

Drugs!

2009-04-20T19:57:00.002-04:00

Apparently today is some sort of magical day for pot smokers everywhere. Because of this, I've seen numerous people excited about a day on a calendar.

I have some thoughts about this (of course I do, that's why I'm typing this), but first a brief history of the Bugg and drugs.

I smoked pot growing up. I did steadily from about 16 or 17 until about 20. It was fun to be high. I enjoyed it, but it wasn't the most important part of my day. Around this time, I fell in with a group of friends who didn't use drugs, and gradually I stopped smoking pot and it became less and less a part of my life. Today, I smoke pot a bit less than I hallucinate; which is maybe once or twice a year. I have no qualms about anyone doing any drugs around or near me so long as they aren't hurting themselves or turning into desperate bitter junkies.

The problem with weed is that I think a lot of times it turns people into the desperate bitter junkie type. Granted, they aren't going to steal or rob for their drug of choice, but they'll go to shitty concerts and hang out with people that they normally would never associate with: the faded jean wearing, spotty facial hair sporting, Phish loving borderline retarded stoner. While weed isn't exactly a physical addiction, I think that too much of the stuff leads to a social and psychological addiction.

Granted there are plenty of people out there who smoke pot every day and are perfectly cool and normal, but I'm refering in this blog post about the people who constantly have to be stoned. They smoke on long car rides, they get high on breaks at school, they feel the need to get high inside the bar on a Tuesday night. These people bother me, and I can't place the reason why in my head.

Maybe it's because there's a resignation that comes with being a stoner that I don't particularly enjoy, a desperation of sorts that comes with the lifestyle that makes you constantly have to justify getting high.

Once again, I have no problem with anyone who gets high casually, but when it becomes your number one conversation tool, get a life.

Now, onto this whole 4/20 thing. I don't understand it. When people get excited about a made up day that happens to be Hitler's birthday, I sort of chuckle. It turns out that I'm going to start getting emotional about Secretary's Day and demanding that everyone take ecstasy with me. Its only fair.

So if you get high, happy made up bullshit that you use to justify in your own mind why you like to smoke. If you don't get high, and hate people because they do, enjoy your day also. But seriously, get high sometime. It's rather nice.

Here's some Bill Hicks.

Bill Hicks- Drugs Have Done Good Things

Until later, be good.

Hall and Oates!

2009-04-17T11:15:00.002-04:00

In honor of Jessica and I traveling to Atlanta to see Hall and Oates, I'd like to point everyone in the direction of this post I made last year about the duo. Needless to say, I'm excited to see them. I'll have some new content up tomorrow. Until then, enjoy the Hall and Oates.

Also, be good.

The Dilemma

2009-04-14T13:45:00.002-04:00

First of all, allow me a chance to say this: I am heavy-hearted, but sure of mind! You are heavy-hearted, but sure of mind!

Now that I've got that out of way, I'd like to write a bit about a dilemma I've been facing lately. I've decided that music- more specifically the music I think matters in this world (those last two words make the following statement more important, simply because it allows for stuff out there that I'm not a fan of to matte, so this isn't entirely self indulgent), is beyond genres, but rather a small piece of a constant continuum.

This idea means that music that matters should not be market reflective. The music I love should be more important than just the latest craze. Instead, it should be bold, striking out in new directions, or redefining the old directions. It should have a weight to it. It should be sure of mind!

But what about the little esoteric moments? Do these matter? When placed alongside work that is all of those things that I've listed above, shouldn't these little genre experiments, these dalliances these throw away moments be just as vital? I'm not sure. I imagine that on some level they are, but I still have yet to be convinced that these moments matter as much.

I think that makes me a walking contradiction on some level, I'm not sure. With that being said, one thing that is certain is that Peter Frampton's "Do You Feel Like We Do" is a classic number.

I was 18 and driving home from Brevard, NC at around 2 A.M. when the song first appeared in my life. It's bombast and spooky middle section really grabbed a hold of me. I couldn't decide for a while if it was awesome or not. Later on it dawned on me that the talk box saturated number wasn't bombastic at all: it was just plain weird. It is a late night drive at 18 summed up. I am full of life, excited even! I am driving down this lonesome road all alone! My future is laid out in front of me and I don't even know it! Wait, it's really fucking dark out here! How dark is it? What if I turned off my lights while I was driving to see how dark it is? Holy shit it's dark, turn them back on! What was I thinking? Okay back to normal, man life is sweet!

That's "Do You Feel Like We Do" in a nutshell. But what about "Sleepwalk"? It's a little known song from Frampton's little known 1982 album "The Art of Control". Frampton hates this album, and it has never been reissued on CD. From my dusy vinyl collection (which has severe adequacy issues when placed next to my CD collection) I plucked this song. Today it's your's to enjoy. But while listening to it, ask yourself this question: does "Sleepwalk", in all of it's Frampton-is-doing-this-because-the-record-company-wants-him-to-write-a-New-Wave-hit-single glory match on any level with "Do You Feel Like We Do?", and if it doesn't, should that stand in the way of it being considered a good song?

Peter Frampton: Sleepwalk

These are the questions I need answered, people.

Until you answer them, be good.

Update!

2009-04-13T11:29:00.002-04:00

I'm having internet issues as we speak. Unfortunately, this means that updating the blog has become kind of difficult. I'll have it all resolved by the end of the week. Then I will be in a constant state of updatedness.

Until then, be good.

Also, Baseball season is here!

It was 15 years ago today...

2009-04-05T14:41:00.002-04:00

That's when they think Kurt Cobain died. Nobody is sure, because he died alone. Sometime between now and the eight he took a massive dose of heroin and blew his brains out.

Plenty of people are going to say things about him like "voice of his generation" and "leader of the greatest band of all time". I'm not sure about all of that. All I know is that Cobain was the first rock star that felt real. Some people had KISS or The Stones, I had Nirvana.

In a lot of ways, 9/11 was a good thing simply because now my generation doesn't have Cobain's death as our watermark story, instead we have an actual tragedy. But my retelling of this yarn is probably a lot like a bunch of people's.

I was 16, almost 17 and spending the day at home from school when I found out. I remember that morning I had found my cassette copy of Nevermind and listened to it for the first time in a while. I had liked In Utero, but it wasn't as mind blowing as Nevermind. I remember walking from my living room to my bedroom, all while my grandpa was watching television. I guess it was one of those top of the hour news briefs that they ran on most local channels in the days before the 24 hour news networks became all the rage, and I remember Carl Clark on WYFF saying that Seattle Police had confirmed Cobain's death.

I don't remember being crushed, but I certainly don't remember being able to go about my day normally either. There was a certain numbness, like the air had left the room. I don't really remember what happened next other than quickly turning on Mtv and watching a somber Kurt Loder speak with David Fricke from Rolling Stone in the commercial breaks of the neverending repeats of Nirvana's Mtv Unplugged.

I know this is weird, but I remember feeling like "we" had lost. Cobain told us all, through countless Rolling Stone interviews, Alternative Press articles and even Guitar World articles that this was a culture war. It was champions of art and music fighting off crass commercialism, fighting off things that sucked like Guns n' Roses and fighting off doing things the way they were supposed to be done. "Punk rock means freedom" was something I'd heard him say countless times, and now this living breathing proponent of the freedom movement had left the room.

I remember music didn't really have a leader against the phonies anymore. The bands that came in his wake, like Bush, seemed to catch on a bit too much. The bands that were his contemporaries, like Alice in Chains, seemed to go on unchecked and influence a bunch of shitty bands (for example, if you like Godsmack, thank AIC. Also, fuck you for liking Godsmack).

I watched Unplugged about three times and then went to band practice that night. Instead of practicing, our lead singer (and major Cobain fan/wanna be) Chad just strummed his guitar and watched Unplugged silently. We made fun of people that tried to kill themselves after Cobain did (I remember Mtv played a compilation of calls they had recieved from fans who empathized with Cobain's pain to the point where they saw nothing to live for). The whole thing was heavy. Seriously heavy.

A lot of writers with far more credientials that I have would later annoint Cobain as some sort of god, but I don't think he was. He hardly did anything groundbreaking. He took a little Pixies, a little Beatles, a dash of Sonic Youth and a warmed over Boston riff and made something that we liked. The real magic of Nirvana was that they felt so real that you had to root for them. The Minutemen said a while ago "our band could be your life", and that summed up Nirvana for me. They were hicks from the middle of nowhere who fought to get out of their town and live out a dream. They were poor kids who wanted to be artists, they were the outsiders who became so good at what they did that they ended up winning over the in crowd.

Nirvana were real, and now they are gone. Fifteen years ago today. Or somewhere around today.

In honor of Nirvana, and in addition to their awesome version of the Meat Puppets' "Oh Me" from Unplugged, I wanted to put something up that showed off the band's more rocking side. So here's a live version of "Oh the Guilt" from 1989 (?).

Nirvana- "Oh, the Guilt" (live)

Until later, be good.

Louis C.K.: the Bugg Blog Interview

2009-04-04T08:39:00.004-04:00

Louis C.K. is probably the best stand-up comedian working today. A few weeks ago I had a chance to interview him, and then both papers I had sold the interview to promptly killed the article. Have I mentioned the economy sucks? Either way, I wanted to put the interview somewhere because I really love Louis' comedy. So what better place than the Bugg Blog, right?

Bugg: I found it interesting to hear that you don't sit down and write your bits. Is your act really stream of conscious to the point where you blurt out what you're thinking on stage or do you work it out into bits?

Louis C.K.: I really work it out on stage, I do the thinking on stage, that's the proper place to do it. You really need to get your brain to a certain temperature for you to really to think like a comic and to think in that form. When you're off stage you're just not at that "heat", so you can sort of simulate it. Sometimes I'll be wondering around somewhere and I'll think about my material or I'll listen back to it, because I tape pretty much every show I do, and if something happens at a show, like loose ends, a new idea or any incomplete thing I'll listen to it later. Listening can kind of simulate being there so I can think about what I'm doing, but mostly it gets formed on stage.

Bugg: It reminds me of the in Seinfeld documentary (Jerry Seinfeld: Comedian) when he's trying to work out new material and he completely forgets his material on stage. A lady in the audience looks at him and said 'you're new at this, aren't you?'. That doesn't happen to you, does it?

C.K.: It depends on where you are in the bit. Eventually they become really well oiled. I'm doing the work in a very free form way, but after a while it becomes very precise to the pause and to the moment. I'm working on [my act] until it becomes an exact science. I don't do it with a pen and paper, I do it on stage and at least once a day I might think about it.

Bugg: So it's less like a comedy bit and more like an anecdote. I mean, everyone has one of those that they've got down to a science.

C.K.: People do that, but I'm always working on the bit, so it never really gels and nothing is ever "wrote". I also want to have intention behind the bit. There are times when I get a little lost, but that's when I'm working on a bunch of new material at once and sometimes I will hit a point where I have to say 'I'm not sure where I am right now'.

Bugg: Are you gearing up material for a new special?

C.K.: Yeah. Chewed Up [C.K.'s last Showtime comedy special] was filmed in March of last year, and I've tossed all that material. So anyone that saw me last year won't be hearing the same jokes.

Bugg: I saw you last year twice, once in January and once at Bonnaroo, and there was already a ig progression in the material. When do you shoot the new special?

C.K.: It's going to happen in April sometime the mandate for me is to do some of the material that I've taped for the special and some new stuff and to have the old material that's on my special completely phased out by the time the special airs.

Bugg: I compare you a lot of the time to Bill Cosby, because you both have this very frank and not always rosey portral of what it's like to be a parent. Was going in that direction with your material just something you naturally fell into, or was that a descision you made as a comic?

C.K.: When I started living that life, I started talking about my experiences. I think that's what Bill did, also. It's definitely only part of my act, the last two specials I did were about 50% wife and kids stuff and about 50% the outside world and being fat and old. When I did the kids stuff it has the same honesty that Bill did. But the rest of my act he probably hates. The other thing that I love about Bill is his ability to tell very fluid stories. Before he even did the kid stuff he had like 50 albums full of funny stories that he told. He's one of the greats, but this show I'm doing now is about 30% stuff about my kids and then the rest is about whatever.

Bugg: Some of the stuff in your act is often uncomfortable because it's so honest. I was wondering if there's a line that you have in your life or your act, or if you just say whatever's on your mind?

C.K.: There's no line. As long as it's honest, or as long as I mean it, I say it. I really don't see a point in having a line in your life. it's a bizarre idea to me to have a limit in speech. That's the whole premise of my stand-up is to be honest. I really don't see the point in saying 'I'd better not say that'. I used to, when I was younger, but I can't even imagine doing that now. To me, if something is sensitive or painful, there's all the more reason to go there and find a laugh there. That can be a good thing.

Bugg: I was wondering about that, because- and if this is too personal and crosses any lines, please excuse me- when I saw you at Bonnaroo, you said you were going through a divorce, does that make not having a line in your life and material easier or harder?

C.K.: I don't talk about my ex on stage at all. She doesn't share my private life at all. She has her's and I have mine, but as far as I have any feelings I have, I don't know. I talk about being divorced in the sense that I'm a single dad now, but I think of my life as moving forward. I don't talk about marraige now because I'm not married. I would never use the stage as a place to say terrible things about someone. The line I will never cross would be the shitty comedy line, I won't go there. I think when someone is offended by something someone said, it's just narcissim. When someone comes to a show and laughs all night but then gets offended when you say something about cancer, and now it's not funny because you don't know something, that's narcissistic. If you're going to come to the show, just listen to the show and enjoy it, but if you're going to get offended at only one thing, because it matters to you, that's stupid.

Bugg: I interviewed Patton Oswalt a few weeks ago and he said that you were the type of person who could do comedy forever because what you do is honest. Do you see yourself as a 70 year old man doing stand-up?

C.K.: I don't know because I can't the future. But I definitely won't stop doing it because I'm. I was watching Ted Alexander, who's a really funny comedian, last night and he said something about being too old to masturbate, he said "I don't know how old is too old to masturbate, but I can tell you that it isn't 39,". That's how I feel about comedy. I don't know what it's like to be 50, but I might decide when I'm 50 that I'm too old. I went to Phyllis Diller's last show in Vegas, and after the show I got to meet her and she was really funny. I asked her why she was retiring because she's still great, and she said that she couldn't handle the airplanes and checking into rooms. The road is what took her out of the game. Who knows, maybe that will be what happens to me, I can't say.

Bugg: I saw Chris Rock at Bonnaroo, and you were backstage with him before he went on. As a comedian, what was that like to see him go out in front of 60,000 people?

C.K.: I flew there with him. We flew in a private jet, I remember calling him and saying 'hey, we're both doing Bonnaroo, can I get a ride?' So when we got on the jet, him, me and a couple of comedians were laughing and telling him that he was going to go down in flames. We were excited to see something that was going on YouTube the next day. But still, Chris Rock playing to 80,000 Metallica fans, really? Would that be an ideal gig or the worst possible gig? What I was saying to him was that if 50,000 people love you, that's a terrible show. That means mean that 30,000 people think you stink. I don't care if 75,000 people love you, that means 5,000 people hate you. Can you imagine playing to 5,000 people who hate you? People who love you sit quietly and enjoy the show, people who hate you boo. Could you imagine 5,000 people booing you? Chris has been doing this for 30 years, so it's hard to get nervous or to feel pressure, but Chris was feeling pressure that night. It was fun to watch Chris get agitated and try to figure out what he was going to do to get the crowd to react. I watched him do an hour and it was impressive. I love stand-up comedy as an athletic excersize and that was like a really good boxing match.

Bugg: Thanks so much for your time, Louis.

C.K.: No problem, thank you.

So that's my interview with Louis C.K.. If you are reading this today, go see him at the Orange Peel tonight. It's going to be great.

Project Fridays: British- from Britian (or Do you want the New Wave or do you want the truth?).

2009-04-03T13:26:00.005-04:00

He's Alive!

2009-04-01T13:10:00.002-04:00

An explanation: A few weeks ago I had a discussion with a friend about social networking, twitter and the news media. I came to the rather starling conclusion that because news media is in a constant quest to be correct, what if I put a little incorrect information out there for people to digest? Not the most revolutionary idea, I know, but it had potential.

I decided that I needed a hoax that people would initially believe, but not want to/be able to investigate further. What I decided to do was briefly announce on my blog and on my Facebook page that I was dead. A simple little post on each, totaling 27 words in all, and yet it caused a shit storm.

I managed to tell most everyone that I had spoken to recently that it was all a hoax, and they thought it was funny. Two other people didn't get the message in time (I was slow sending out emails) and they were crushed. People eulogized me on blogs, an epic 5 page thread on the Mountain Xpress forums about my apparent demise, people's Twitters were all atwitter and over 300 views on my blog within a day. It's all been rather crazy.

A lot of people are calling me an attention whore for doing this, a manipulator of emotions. If they want to believe that, fine. But this entire thing (to me at least) is a commentary on how quickly information spreads. I live 45 miles away from Asheville and I know hardly any of these people, and yet here they are outraged and saddened by my demise. I had left no information about how I passed, but everyone assumed it was some sort of suicide. People were sad, worried and angry. Including this blog, which I assume was written by a certain ex AC-T staffer with whom I'd feuded in the past.

There's a story in this somewhere, and I'm starting to write it. Right now however. I'm going to make some lunch. I'm alive blogosphere.

Until next time.

Be good.

1977- 2009

2009-03-31T14:59:00.001-04:00

Jason died this afternoon. Nobody knows how, yet. Please keep his family in your hearts right now.

Scientist Rock

2009-03-27T17:37:00.003-04:00

I interviewed Mike Watt today, and from that short conversation I got a sense that he is really an unbelievable human being. His love of art, music and his friend D. Boon is palpable even over the phone. We spoke about punk rock and what it meant beyond just the slogans and the chords churning along with the drum beats. We laughed a few times and he sounded like he teared up at the end of the conversation when asked about the recently deceased Ron Ashton. I'm going to have the entire Q&A up on my blog really soon, but for now, here's a clip of the Minutemen performing "History Lesson pt. II". Watch it and you'll see the love that these guys (Watt and Boon) had for each other.

That, my friends is a perfect song. Not a time goes by that I don't well up listening to this song talk about friendship and how music can change your life.

Be good.

Project Fridays: Imperialism!

2009-03-27T16:20:00.003-04:00

An Ode to the Civic Center

2009-03-26T22:59:00.003-04:00

I've gone on record in the past trashing the Asheville Civic Center and stating that it should be wiped off of Asheville's map, but tonight a very peculiar memory popped up in my head.

It was January 5, 1986 and I'm eight years old. My grandma and grandpa surprised me with tickets to see NWA Wrestling in the Civic Center.

Most of the memories are hazy. I remember seeing blood on Jimmy Valiant's head and Ric Flair's tights being pulled down as he ran away and laughing at his buttcrack showing to the crowd. It was like theater for me. I remember marveling at how many people, probably close to three or four thousand came to see professional wrestling on that afternoon. I couldn't believe this many people liked something that I liked. I couldn't believe that these guys, these big television stars were right in front of me fighting just like they did every Saturday morning on Channel 4 and on Sunday morning on Channel 13. It was like The Fonz or Arnold from Diff'rent Strokes coming to town.

Some of the more highbrow readers of the Bugg Blog will probably turn up their noses and scoff at the notion of professional wrestling being discussed at a place that is such a hub of intellectual thought, but this is my blog, so blow me.

A few years ago I went with my grandpa again to see professional wrestling. This time we went with my sister's children. Both of them stood in awe that these famous people were standing in front of them. My nephew Mateo seemed rather confused about the whole thing.

"This doesn't come on television until Monday" he said. It was a Saturday night.

"No Mateo, this is special. They are here doing this just for us." I explained.

"Just for us?" he said and smiled after a moment.

I'm pretty sure that was the most special he has felt in his entire life. These people were here doing something he loved, performing in this rather base form of theater just for him. It might have been better than his birthday and Christmas all at once. Probably not, but I'm glad I got to see it. A little while later his favorite wrestler came out to fight and he danced and jumped and chanted his name for close to 20 minutes. This stuff matters. This "redneck soap opera" matters. These are super heroes.

So the Civic Center may be torn down one day and replaced with a big bright building that's a testament to the progressive and quaint city that Asheville has turned into. But that afternoon when I was eight I didn't come downtown looking for antique shops and sushi bars, and that Saturday night when Mateo was 7 he wasn't looking for microbrews and independent cinema- we were both looking for our heroes, and they were there in front of us standing strong.

And that's all that matters to me about the Civic Center now. Heroes, memories and standing in awe at both of them happening in front of me.

Until later, be good.

New Article

2009-03-25T01:41:00.002-04:00

Be sure to check out my article on Butch Walker in the latest issue of Flagpole.

“I was definitely a smart ass and a punk-ass bitch for years,” says Walker, owning up to some of the more colorful titles mentioned alongside his name. But now, Walker has returned with his latest album, Sycamore Meadows, which displays his trademark sound and sneer while also debuting a new wrinkle in the singer’s repertoire.

Click here to read it.

Also in this same issue, I preview a show by Brooklyn's Chairlift (who you'll be hearing about on this blog shortly).

Chairlift's music, which is built around the vocals of Caroline Polachek and Aaron Pfenning, channels the synth-laden New Romantic period of the '80s perfectly, without becoming a nostalgia-driven novelty act. But while the electronic music of the '80s often tapped into the harsh and cold sound that only machines could create, Chairlift’s brand of electro-pop seems to showcase a more playful, organic tone: this is the sound of people playing machines, not the other way around.

Click here to read that.

Until later, be good.

Don't Let Us Get Sick

2009-03-25T01:10:00.004-04:00

God, Jessica hates this guy. I've rambled on about Warren Zevon time and time again on this blog, but something about this guy's music draws me in. I love his wit and his cynicism. Sometimes I think that he and I would probably have had a lot in common.

There's something really neat to me about how he saw something seedy in most beautiful things, and often saw something beautiful in the ugly stuff too. I could wax philosophical about it all night, but it's all here in the music.

The other night I went over to a friend's house. I was a family and maybe ten friends short of having everyone I care about in the world under one roof. We laughed and told old stories, we talked about how the Pilgrims and Indians had turkey and french fries at the first Thanksgiving and wondered how long we could keep drinking like we do before we all have strokes. It was a good night, like every Saturday night.

Then as I drove home with my lady a little drunk beside me, I thought about the future and that inevitable dread that seems to overtake me all the time came in. What if something happened to me, or any of these wonderful and precious people around me? Would I be able to handle it? I'm not sure, but just as this thought began to take over my brain and all I could do was dwell on it, this Zevon song popped up on my iPod's shuffle setting.

It's like a little prayer, and for a few minutes I felt okay about life. I reached back into the back seat, petted my dog and then put my hand on my lady's thigh. I breathed a big heavy gulp of the freshest, worry-free air that I have in a while. We're going to be okay. Nothing has happened yet. We drove home and made plans about our future and laughed about our past. That night we slept on freshly washed sheets wrapped around each other like a tangled up batch of Christmas lights. We will be okay.

So maybe this song isn't everyone's cup of tea, but what it can be is a nice little thing to think about.

Warren Zevon- Don't Let Us Get Sick

With that being said, I'm going to try to sleep. Have a good night, and be good.

Is He Strong? Listen Bud, He's Got Radioactive Blood.

2009-03-24T18:57:00.003-04:00

First off, go read this. For those of you too lazy to click on a link, I'll copy and paste it here for you.

Thai fireman in 'spider-man' rescue of autistic boy

BANGKOK (AFP) – A Thai fireman turned superhero when he dressed up as comic-book character Spider-Man to coax a frightened eight-year-old from a balcony, police said Tuesday.

Teachers at a special needs school in Bangkok alerted authorities on Monday when an autistic pupil, scared of attending his first day at school, sat out on the third-floor ledge and refused to come inside, a police sergeant told AFP.

Despite teachers' efforts to beckon the boy inside, he refused to budge until his mother mentioned her son's love of superheroes, prompting fireman Sonchai Yoosabai to take a novel approach to the problem.

The rescuer dashed back to his fire station and made a quick change into a Spider-Man costume before returning to the boy, he said.

"I told him Spider-Man is here to rescue you, no monsters are going to attack you and I told him to walk slowly towards me as running could be dangerous," Somchai told local television.

The young boy immediately stood up and walked into his rescuer's arms, police said.

Somchai said he keeps the Spider-Man costume and an outfit of Japanese television character Ultraman at the station in order to liven up school fire drills.

Normally I hate heartwarming stories like this, but something about this story grabbed me. It's probably because it's in my dork wheelhouse, granted, but this is why super heroes matter. They give children a sense of morality, they give children a sense that in a world full of bad people who want to hurt them that there is some brightly colored person out there who is looking out for them.

I remember having nightmares as a kid and my grandma letting me stay up in the living room with her. I read Spider-Man and she read Harlequin novels. Most of the time my grandmother's company kept me safe from whatever those dreams were, but sometimes it was Spider-Man who made me feel safe. Either were fine with me.

Until later, be good.

Rock n' Roll, wherefore art thou?

2009-03-24T01:11:00.004-04:00

I'll admit it: I'm a subscriber of Rolling Stone. As a novice music writer, I find the magazine to be like a style guide. To be something in the world of rock journalism, I still think you have to work for Rolling Stone. I'm sure there are detractors of the magazine out there saying that it hasn't been relevant in a while, and I'm aware of this, but to a certain extent, Rolling Stone does matter.

So this past Christmas I decided to ante up and get a subscription. I know that RS is a multi million dollar affair at this point, and I know producing a couple of hundred pages of copy twice a month is a daunting task, but lately I've been rather put off by the magazine.

First off, let me just say that I turned off the radio to an extent about 15 years ago. I know the names of popular artists, but I couldn't sing you one of their songs if I had to. It's the same way with television. I know a few shows, but for the most part, I'm late to the game. Remember what a big deal The O.C. was a few years ago? Never seen an episode.

With that out of the way, I'd like to talk about this tasty little image. To the untrained eye, it's two young girls eating an ice cream cone in such a way that an older hornier man such as myself might imagine that it's a penis in their mouths/hands. I wouldn't go so far as to say "my penis", because I don't know if the collective horny male population is as comfortable with that fantasy as I am, so we'll say that the ownership of the penis in question is left up for the individual to decide.

I get it. Rolling Stone, much like everyone else, is hurting right now and needs to titillate the average casual reader into picking up each issue, which is exactly why the last few issues have featured Britney Spears, these two slags, and Taylor Swift on the last few covers. None of them are particularly relevant to the rock and roll landscape, but RS needs those people with an extra 5 bucks and a hardon just like I need an alt weekly with a hole in coverage and a desire for a Louis C.K. interview to plug into it. It makes sense. But my question is this: at what point does a magazine that some people still look towards as a standard bearer for rock journalism and political commentary shamelessly whore itself out for money and become a low rent Maxim clone?

I'm no puritan, I've said and done things that make the average person blush and uptight A&E editors at Asheville based alt-weeklies feel ill, but at some point the magazine loses whatever moral authority it has as musical documentarians and cultural tastemaker it has left by putting out the cunts giving fake head to an ice cream cone. There's a wonderful article in the latest issue spelling out the bailout and how it is tatamount to a corporate takeover of the American financial regulation sector by Matt Taibbi, and it's not going to get the attention it deserves because these two chicks who don't have the actual courage to suck and actual cock in a magazine like to pretend.

To the publishers of Rolling Stone I say this (even though I know good and well that Jann S. Wenner, Will Dana, Eric Bates, Jason Fine, John Dioso and Dathan Brackett aren't reading my pithy little blog): how dare you guys shit all over what's left of your good name by whoring it out? A long time ago RS helped chronicle legends and now it's nothing more that Perez Hilton hosting Cinemax's Friday After Dark. It's embarassing.

Try harder.

The rest of you can be good.

Thinking.

2009-03-23T23:53:00.003-04:00

The dangerous thing about blogging and writing about as much personal crap as I do comes when something is on your mind that you'd rather not talk about. For some, it's the stuff I write about all of the time here, but for me it's other things. It's my past.

My wedding anniversary was last week. Well, it would have been if I hadn't gotten a divorce. Before I start down this path, let me give a rather heartfelt disclaimer.

I'm fine with how my life has turned out. I don't regret getting married, I don't regret getting a divorce. It led me to where I am now, which is nice even though I don't have money and at times I still don't know what I'm doing. I have Jessica and a bunch of awesome pets. I have love, the kind that you hear in a bad song or at the end of a very special episode of some television show that I don't watch. The kind that makes me roll my eyes when Pam and Jim go on about it on The Office. Needless to say, I think of my lady as rather special.

But my wedding anniversary was last week.

What does a divorced person do on this day? I treated it like I would have any other day, I went to school, walked my dog, sent out pitches and kind of rolled with the punches, but a part of me wondered does my ex realize what today is?

Maybe she does and she kind of shudders, like "whoa", or maybe it's a relief, like "whew". Maybe it's a noise I don't know how to type. Maybe she thought about calling me to see how I was doing, but thought the better of it. The point is that I'm not sure how people react. I'm sure there's still some anger and resentment somewhere inside, but I don't want to think about that. Instead I wonder about the absurd, like what a good gift to give her would have been, provided that I bumped into her socially, something that I haven't done in over a year. What if I'd gotten her a clock radio? Would that be a good post divorce wedding anniversary gift? Here you go, hope you can use this!, would be what I'd say to her, nervously shoving the box into her hands.

Maybe a gift really isn't the way to go, maybe Hallmark makes a card. There has to be a market for people that emotionally done with each other but still nostalgic for a day that no longer means anything anymore. It's like the Super Bowl if you're team isn't in the big game. And you don't like football. And you don't have cable. You'd think that with the plethora of cards out there for sperm donors, foster parents, emotionally abusive brothers who just got out of treatment but happen to like Garfield and still have a birthday coming up, friends of the recently deceased and former law partners who started sleeping with each other, had a kid, liquidated the practice, broke up, got back together and started a completely different practice that there would be a market for something like this. But hey, I'm just a sentimental fool.

I'm sure she's doing well. I'm doing great. But part of me wonders if I phone call was in order. Maybe not to her, because between the fighting and the quiet painful decision to terminate our life together we've probably said what needs to be said, but maybe a simple letter to her family is in order? You know like Dear former in-laws, I know this is weird, but we used to be related. Remember that beach trip we all planned together? I hope you guys have fun without me. Sorry that you dropped a couple of grand on a meaningless day, but hey, the food was okay and today is the anniversary! I'll be sure to nervously wave and act like we barely know each other next time you see me across the street downtown. Love, Jason. It just doesn't have that ring to it.

Maybe there's a song out there that sums up the heartache, the embarrassment, the what the fuck do I do now?, of post divorced life out there. I'm sure it has a quiet acoustic guitar intro, maybe a sad saxophone playing after the choruses and a painfully amateur-and-yet-completely-relevant-on-an-emotional-level piano solo. I'm sure it's damn good.

But instead of those things, it's just an anniversary. Not a real anniversary anymore, but it's something. It's the sound of a book closing. The last drink that you can't finish on a Friday night. It's something that at one time was completely meaningful and now it holds no more meaning to people than Sandy Koufax's birthday. We're aware of it, but it's just another day.

Like that day last week.

I'm okay with that in a weird way. There's a lot of things in this world that I'm not okay with, but this one I am. I'm sure she's happier now, and I know for a fact I am. It's just another day.

Until tomorrow, be good.

Project Fridays: Country Music

2009-03-20T00:43:00.003-04:00

Frat Boys, and why they suck

2009-03-17T23:17:00.002-04:00

I'm currently going to a community college, trying to get some of my General Education stuff out of the way, and I share a biology class with two rather profoundly dumb people. Both of them went to Western Carolina University, promptly discovered alcohol and then flunked out of college. So they go were every other retard on the planet goes when this happens: to the nearest Community College.

Today one of them was talking about a keg party his fraternity was holding. I asked him if he was in the frat and his smile left his face. With a cold stare and his best hardass voice he told me that it is not called a "frat", mainly because "you wouldn't call your country a cunt".

Keep in mind the guy's name is Robbie. I reminded him that you'd call Robert "Robbie", and Chemistry class "Chem", text messages "texts", text books "books" and a myriad of other words that we shorten in the English language. He still just gazed at me with utter contempt.

I have nothing against frat boys. If they want to pay excessive amounts of money to be friends with people, live in horrible housing, drink shitty beer, stuff bing cherries up their ass and try to replicate some "zany college party guy" image that they've been sold their entire lives, that's fine but...

Actually, I do hate frat kids. Fuck them. If you are in a frat and you're reading this, fuck you. I hate you for your willingness to pay excessive amounts of money to be friends with people, live in horrible housing, drink shitty beer, stuff bing cherries up your asses and try to replicate some "zany college party guys" image that you've been sold your entire lives. It's pathetic and if I were king you'd be lined up against the wall and shot.

In closing, suck on a turd as if it were a cock.

Until later, be good.

Ugly Guys Rock, Too

2009-03-17T00:36:00.003-04:00

Probably the best and worst thing to happen to music was Mtv. On one hand, it placed an emphasis on style and substance over actual songcraft, but at the same time I wasn't subjected to rocking out to ugly dudes like this on my television screen.

It's a crime that more people haven't heard this song. The lazy beat, the almost heartbreaking lyrics, the calliope-like piano and the entire presentation. It's a perfect little pop song. It'll never really matter to people the way a Dylan song or that song you heard when you got laid for the first time, but it doesn't diminish that it's great.

So without further ado, here's Little Feat doing "Truck Stop Girl"

Little Feat- "Truck Stop Girl"

Until tomorrow, be good.

Project Fridays: Let's Dance.

2009-03-13T14:01:00.003-04:00

King Khan

2009-03-13T13:06:00.002-04:00

Sometimes I feel so jaded about music. I feel like I have heard of everything that matters in rock, but music being the amazing artform that it is never ceases to surprise me. Last night the surprise came in the form of King Kahn and The Shrines.

I was invited by a friend to the show, and I took him up on the offer. Usually when someone asks me to go see a band that I am not familiar with I immediately look the band up and try to form an opinion, but I decided to make an effort to not do that with King Kahn. I honestly walked into the Orange Peel in Asheville NC last night not knowing what to expect.

What I got was a revelation. King Kahn somehow manages to channel the rock fury of The Sonics alongside the fiery blues shouter of James Brown. It was a pretty amazing thing to see.

I know I belly ache a lot on this blog and in real life about how people aren't playing music with soul anymore. King Kahn was playing revved up soul music last night. Like The Clash backing Sam Cooke, with Walter Becker and Donald Fagan writing the lyrics.

I don't really have much to add. Kahn is something you have to see live to appreciate it. I'll share this video I took of the show last night. Here he is doing "Welfare Bread".

Tori's Birthday

2009-03-12T01:35:00.003-04:00

I remember all of the feelings that I had when my sister was pregnant for the first time. Excitement, disappointment (she was 18 at the time), terror and bewilderment, but the one thing I remember vividly was really thinking about how much I hated kids.

I worked in an ice cream shop for most of my late teens and I remember just hating every child that walked up to the counter. It was a pure and mean hatred. Later on I remember going to a Wal-Mart late one night to buy underwear and condoms and hearing a 4 year old sing to himself. It was the most annoying thing I had ever heard. I waited until his mom wasn't looking and I knocked over a huge display that the kid was standing near so that he'd get in trouble. That was a good time.

Then Tori was born. I remember she had big feet for a baby. The biggest, most precious baby feet I'd ever seen. I'm talking 3 inches long from heel to big toe, and perfectly formed. I was the fourth person to ever hold her. My sister told me she was asleep and would probably stay that way for a few hours, but she opened her eyes and looked at me. Just a slight little glance. Later on a well-read copy of "What to Expect When You're Expecting" told me that babies can't really see that far in the first few hours after being born, but I'd like to think that she saw me. She took her little hand with the long fingernails and touched my finger. Her lips pursed like she was sucking on an imaginary bottle and a slight yawn came out. "Rough night, huh?", was all I could manage to say to the kid. From that moment on, I think Tori and I got along better than I ever have with anyone.

I can't describe how I feel about Tori, because I don't know if my brain can come up with words. My family never hugged and kissed, we never say we loved each other, but it seemed like Tori in her own way helped us all soften up a bit. My grandparents finally got a chance to become grandparents, and I got a chance to see how cool kids can be. I learned a lot about life, and the things that really matter to people after Tori was born. She's not my daughter, but I swear that seeing her grow and change into the awesome 12 year old that she is really has helped me look at the universe a bit differently.

I remember babysitting her one summer day when she was first walking and talking. I did what I inevitably do in any situation- drift off into another world, occupied by only me while she played in the next room. I heard the rustling of papers and eventually the strong smell of permanent marker. I walked into the room to discover that everything in the room- walls, floor, sheets, bed, books, and Tori's face and teeth were covered in a thick black layer of marker. I wasn't mad, but I remember thinking that she was going to be trouble growing up. Either that or I was going to be the worst parent imaginable.

Now she's 12 and she's the smartest, most interesting person I know. Her nose is in a book and she still makes up great jokes and stories. When she was four years old she made up two of the funniest jokes I'd ever heard:

Why did Baby Jesus have no dad?

Because he just had a mom!

and

Why did the little girl not do her homework?

Because she's stupid!

Granted, they aren't funny when you read them, but a four year old telling them to you and laughing is quite possibly the funniest thing ever. It's like anti-funny. McSweeney's wishes they could get material that meta textual.

I remember that she was sad at a very young age because she had no friends. So I went to the park with her to see if some children would be playing there. There were no kids to be found, and she blamed me. I'm the monster, apparently. But whatever. We were friends, Tori and I.

Now I live 45 miles away and we don't get to talk as much. She's a 12 year old with a social life and middle school friends, and I don't understand exactly what she's thinking about or doing, but she's still Tori, and she's still awesome.

At one of my eight billion coffee shop jobs, I remember talking to a customer whose girlfriend was expecting their first child. I remember asking him if he was wanting a girl or a boy. I have this theory that men have trouble identifying with daughters. He told me that either would be fine with him, but if it was a girl, he'd be okay with it because the love between a father and daughter is special. I know I don't have children, and I know that Tori isn't my daughter, but if that love is anything like how special I feel about her, then I'll be walking around constantly in tears the day I have a daughter. It won't be pretty.

I'm excited to grow old and see what Tori turns into. She's by far the most interesting person I know, and I'm kind of honored to think that I'm related to her. A 12 year old, and Tuesday was her birthday.

Happy birthday, Tori.

Here's a song that Tori will undoubtedly hate, but it makes me think of her and smile. It's written and performed by John Doe. He told me that he wrote it about his daughter, and when I listen to the lyrics I can't help but to identify with him.

John Doe- A Little More Time

I'll have something up later today, and tomorrow is an all new Project Fridays. Get ready, people.

Be good.

On Book or Off?

2009-03-11T02:40:00.005-04:00

Random scenes from a past life and a present life. Some closer to the front of the stage and some further away:

At a friends house coming down from a mushroom trip and another friend who isn't high looks at me and says "You're following your script perfectly". I wondered aloud what script and if there was a script who wrote it and if I could read ahead to see what happens. He told me that I've written the script and carefully planned out my reactions, responses and feelings about every thing and situation that I encounter. I say nothing, but part of me wonders if I should agree with him.

Sitting at my computer last night, wondering if my head was going to explode.

A few years ago in a fight with my ex and she says that I have a compulsion to make every situation as awkward for myself and everyone involved with it as I can. She says that the only way I can be happy is by being unhappy.

I'm twenty four and upset about a girl, my lot in life and this nagging voice that constantly tells me that I'm a failure. I think about jumping off of a bridge, but I call my friend and make a big scene instead.

Walking home with Jessica and Chili and she tells me that I'm okay, no matter what I convince myself of later.

Late in 2007, yet another fight. My marriage is falling apart. She looks at me and tells me that I am probably clinically depressed.

Laying on the couch with Jessica and she looks at me, smiles sweetly and says "You're not crazy, you know that don't you?" I nod and make a joke.

I'm 13 years old and I feel like I don't belong anywhere or to anyone. At the time I'm self aware enough to know that these are just the rather banal and normal feelings of a 13 year old, but it doesn't diminish the weight of the feeling. That feeling of a big snarling Doberman in the back of your head ready to snap anytime you feel like you are happy.

Sitting at my computer tonight, way too late considering I have a 9:30 AM class and thinking that it's a little too Livejournal of me to place these thoughts out in the open.

Tonight I don’t know if half of the things that happen in my head are just me letting my brain get the best of me and following the script or if I actually have a problem? I mean, who’s to say that I have a problem? I can't say that I do. I think part of me would like to think that I have a problem because that's what I do, I play the role I've scripted. Part of me thinks that I do have a problem because I'm aware that I don't feel "right". I feel too scattered, to frazzled, to sensitive to life around me.

Suppose that I think I’m weird because I have a panic attack once every other month and sometimes I don’t want people to look at me or talk to me but the only thing in the world I want is for someone to look at me or talk to me. Am I crazy then? What if I keep thinking that I have a problem when I don’t and then there’s some guy out there sculpting castles out of semen and his mother’s hair who really needs the help and attention that I take, should I choose to talk to someone? Who has the problem then?

Am I self centered for thinking that the things that bother me to the point of tears aren’t really problems?

Last night I had so many thoughts, good bad and otherwise, in my head that for about ten minutes I just held my head in my hands pressing inwards, and I seriously thought that my head was going to explode. My hands press into my skull so hard that my wrists hurt. I'm holding my brain together. Not literally, but there wasn't mush about the way I felt right then and there that didn't make it any less real. Are these things and thoughts really happening or am I just thinking about them too much? Am I on script or off script when these things happen?

I would like to not think that I'm just some actor in a play that nobody is paying to see. I would like to think that instead I'm the actor after he gets off work and goes home to his sex castle. But what if I am some harlequin that the rest of you are laughing about?

In my math class today I did a math problem on a multiple choice test. The answer was the square root of negative twenty five (or 5i). The choices for answers were “none of the above” or “not a real solution”. I thought about it for a while. None of the above is an answer. It’s a definite thing: this is the absence of something. Meanwhile not a real solution is a real answer but one that implies that the number is imaginary. A real answer to an idea. An idea to solve something real. I thought about it so long and hard that my nose bleeds. At least I think that is what happened. Who knows if I’m putting myself on or not?

In the meantime, here's a song.

The Persuasions- Ship of Fools

Until later, be good.

The Late Night Creepies.

2009-03-09T23:31:00.002-04:00

Sometimes I sit here, in some bizarre valley in the Great Smokey Mountains, and I can feel the weirdness coming around. I can't explain it. The highway in my backyard gets quiet, the wind gets still, my pets are asleep, and the weirdness comes around.

My blood gets thick, my stomach ties itself in knots and my brain thinks about strange stuff. Sometimes I get the rather inescapable feeling that it's all been done before. Everything here and everything out there in the internet land. We are all walking, living breathing redundancies.

Oh sure, we all think we can get by on our post modernism and our irony, but at the end of the day we are sad imitations of someone long forgotten and under appreciated. Someone came around these parts before and did what we are trying to do now and did it better. You'll try to rationalize what you are thinking and feeling, jotting it down on some weblog or in some Mead Five Star Notebook, if you can make out what you're doing through your own thick penmanship, but deep down you know the truth: it's been done.

There are no new ideas cast in stone like Excalibur for us to find. Only that same old sad, shaped by water and wind over billions of years shale, that we've stepped upon timeless times.

But I'm here to say that we should not despair. Instead we should trudge on with our ideas, our feelings of uniqueness, because that is still, even though it's been done over and over (like a few ex girlfriends of mine), there's still beauty in those thoughts. Sure, Hamlet has been written, but it hasn't been performed with an all Siamese Cat cast.

There's a con out there for each and every one of us. There's a small tear in the fabric of the world where we can find our niche. There's a corner in the woods where we can hide and collect our thoughts, and a special place in our hearts where we can love and be loved in a way we never thought possible. On most women it's near the butthole.

But the real question is what does this random drivel from my brain have to do with The Everly Brothers? They are the super corny, tight harmony wielding, safe rock n' roll relics from the sixties, right? Well yes they are, but they are exactly what I'm talking about- except for the butthole part.

The Everlies couldn't figure out if they wanted to be Simon and Garfunkel or the Louvin Brothers. So instead they became both. Rock stardom soon happened, and the rest is history.

But the song I'm going to share isn't "Wake Up Little Susie", instead it's "I Wonder if I Care as Much". A lot of hipster doofuses will say that Brian Eno or someone equally important to people who don't actually listen to the music that they claim they like created the sparse, droney background noise as basis for a song, and they are wrong. Here are the Everly Brothers doing it way before, and it's awesome.

So to those out there like me in search of that little spark or scrap of whatever is out there that will convince us all that our muses and creative urges aren't futile, I present this; The Everly Brothers literally inventing cool before someone much cooler came along and got famouse for it.

Now that's excitement!

And you thought that this entry was just going to be a freewriting excersize and a little note about a creepy song haphazardly thrown together under some umbrella title?

You're actually kind of right, but pay no mind.

The Everly Brothers- I Wonder if I Care as Much

Until later, be good.

Leave some comments.

Tonight I placed this in my face

2009-03-09T22:07:00.003-04:00

For dinner tonight I made a pork tenderloin, marinated in Cuban spices and smothered in barbecue sauce, homemade corn pudding and fresh green beans. It was damn good.

Don't eat at Arby's.

2009-03-08T23:59:00.002-04:00

Watch the second commercial on that clip (it starts at around :31 seconds into the video). I know that they are trying to sell some new version of a hamburger using roast beef, but doesn't that commercial sort of imply that at any given moment, Arby's has a box full of room temperature ground beef patties just laying on the floor of their kitchen, possibly rotting?

Horrible.

Patterson Hood, The World's Worst Sweet Tooth and an ode to how awesome my Grandpa is

2009-03-08T21:51:00.003-04:00

I know I gush a lot on this blog about all kinds of bands, but its warranted. Patterson Hood of the Drive-By Truckers is one of those dudes whom I gush over all of the time. One of my favorite memories of the last year is walking into Jack of the Wood in downtown Asheville during the Warren Haynes Xmas Jam weekend and getting a chance to see Patterson up close and personal, alone with a guitar.

One of the songs he played was this little ditty- it's called "Granddaddy", and it's unreleased (so far). I remember listening to the lyrics, from the simple beginning of "Someday when I'm a granddaddy, I'll be the laziest son of a bitch you've ever seen" to the last refrain of "We'll hide chocolate candies all around the house so that all the little ones will come to see me" it is just a perfect little song. I knew it was good, and I knew I wasn't alone because I looked back at Jessica and she was crying.

It's so weird how every little part of this song struck a chord with me, especially the chocolate candies line. My grandpa's house is always full of the best candies ever, and they are hidden in a cabinet in the kitchen. No matter what holiday is going on, the first stop for any member of the family visiting is the candy cabinet. Sometimes I wonder if he gets them just so we'll come by, but then I realize that my grandpa's sweet tooth is worse than Jessica's, and her's ranks amongst the worst in Western North Carolina.

So sit back and listen to this song. Think about your grandpa. If you have kids, think about them growing up and having children, and how you'll get to be the coolest motherfucker ever once that happens. Raising children is about saying no, my grandpa says, having grandchildren is about saying yes.

That pretty poignant. I know my grandpa got a raw deal with my sister and I. Along with my grandma they probably thought that they were done with raising children. Then my dad had to go and have me and my sister. But, he did it and I'd like to think that we came out okay. Well, my sister did, I'm still a work in progress.

But now my sister has kids, and my grandpa is getting to be a grandpa finally. It's a role that he seems to relish. He's in his 70s, and yet he seems younger now than when I was a kid. So maybe if my sister is reading this, she can play it for my grandpa. He'll appreciate it.

Patterson Hood- Granddaddy (live at Jack of the Wood)

My apologies about the volume level. It is a live recording done by a guy sitting in the back of a noisy bar. Turn up your speakers a bit and listen to Patterson Hood play one of the sweetest songs I've heard in a while.

Until then, be good.

Also, think about your grandpa and smile a bit.

Cooking with Bugg!

2009-03-07T13:19:00.002-05:00

I've taken quite a liking to cooking lately, especially cooking with my lady. We usually stand in the kitchen and talk about our days together. The other night I made my world famous enchiladas and Jessie helped me out. In honor of it, I thought I'd share some photos.

That's me creating the yummy enchiladas. Pay no mind to my carelessly throwing the burrito on the counter. What the hell was I thinking. Also, I really don't know how to open packages of shredded cheese.

This is what they looked like before they went into the oven. Pretty darn tasty.

Here they are as a gooey mess on my plate with a little black beans and some yellow rice. Note the yellowness of my plate.

I have no idea why I wanted to share this. Go to hell. I love you all.

Be good.

Project Fridays: Backing off of the Hate

2009-03-07T12:37:00.007-05:00

My Dog, the Blueshound.

2009-03-04T22:31:00.006-05:00

If my dog were a musician, he'd play some sort of raw as hell, electric version of the Mississippi Blues. It's true, it's true.

Here's Captain Beefheart and the Magic Band singing Zig Zag Wanderer.

Quite Finite Jest

2009-03-04T14:36:00.004-05:00

David Foster Wallace is a genius, I think. I mean, I'm not sure what "genius" even means. I was told growing up that genius is something that doesn't happen that often, but I have also learned that in the music world, the word genius is thrown around like rice at weddings. Here are noted geniuses (critic's words, not mind) from 1960-1969: Dylan, Lennon, McCartney, Stevie Wonder, Jim Morrison, Joni Mitchell, Neil Young, Paul Simon, James Brown, James Jamerson, Captain Beefheart, Frank Zappa, Mick Jaggar, Keith Richards and Brian Wilson. That's a lot of genius in a very short time. Something tells me that only a few of those were actual geniuses.

But back to my main point: David Foster Wallace and his genius. Here's a guy that possessed actual "boy he's smart" genius. His writing at it's best synthesized math, philosophy and his own playfulness with the narrative and the language all filtered through the head of a genuinely smart and conflicted man who by nature or nurture questioned everything around him. Today I read a long piece on him in The New Yorker, and I was taken aback by his pretty amazing talent.

Wallace seemed rather consumed with the idea that maybe his work could touch people, and maybe him writing about the rather dark things in his head could show people (or even himself) that he was a human being also, and that there is a certain joy and exuberance to being alive. Somehow his long meditations on medications, therapy and self discovery were therapeutic for him. I don't know. I doubt I'm smart or highbrow enough to put it into words. Maybe he was trying to say what Dolly Parton said: "If you want the rainbow sometimes you gotta put up with the rain". Sure it's hokey, but it's true.

I'm an egomaniac. I know I am, and that is what makes reading about someone like Wallace so terribly difficult. I know I'll never fuse such highbrow things as math and philosophy into literature and make people feel alive. That's what he cared about. I care about dick jokes, super heroes and the snare drum on James Brown records. Not exactly highbrow. But maybe that's my calling: to embrace the lowbrow.

For a while this afternoon, I was quite down about that, but I feel okay about it now. I am who I am. I write things that make me happy, and sometimes I make other people laugh, think or notice what I'm shining my light upon. That's cool with me. It's got to be.

But still, I'd love to master the footnotes and endnotes like he did. And if I ever write a long book about the time in my life starting with my divorce and ending at some undetermined time in the future it will be called Infinite Jess and consist of nothing but love letters to my lady.

Until later, be good.

Actual Conversations: over dinner tonight

2009-03-02T21:27:00.004-05:00

Me: What did people do before irony?

Jessica: They probably wore wrinkled clothes.

Me: Azhol.

My girlfriend might be funnier than I think I am.

Gushing

2009-02-27T23:32:00.005-05:00

I know I gush a lot on this blog about my lady, but she really is sweet. So sweet, that I got drunk and heard this song and immediately thought of her.

Listen to it, it's a nice little love in a time of financial crisis song that we all need to hear in times like these when the end result of people who value money over human beings rears it's ugly head.

The only thing that could be better about this song would be inserting a verse about how every time we have an orgasm some stupid neocon's head explodes.

So to sum things up; girlfriend: hot and wonderful, me: drunk and lonely, song: good and neocon republican pieces of shit: damned to hell or some semblance of the place.

Nick Lowe: True Love Travels on a Gravel Road

Until later, I love you all. Fuck you if you're a libertarian or a republican and I especially love my girlfriend.

Be good.

Project Fridays: Familiar Ground

2009-02-27T22:52:00.005-05:00

Maurice Clarett's blog

2009-02-27T16:26:00.002-05:00

An entry at Deadspin pointed out Maurice Clarett's blog to me. For those of you who aren't familiar with Clarett, he was a college football player who seemingly had everything in the world going for him, and then pissed it away. His rise and fall was so quick and staggering that it makes even non sports fans sit up and take notice, and his blog is a damn good read.

I had a chance to get outside and run sprints on the track today. It felt so good to feel the fresh air. The facility does not have windows in the cell that I can open, so I don’t get a chance to feel nature that often during the winter months. Today was an exception though. I had a blast just running on the yard. I felt like a little kid inside. It felt like the energy of the earth would have allowed me to run all day long. We only have recreation for two hours and I enjoyed it all. I appreciated the time I did get.

I now wonder to myself, “is this what life is all about?” Am I supposed to find true happiness in the things I can’t buy? Am I supposed to enjoy more of life’s simple pleasures like this? After all, it was just me and Earth. At that moment, the prison walls did not exist. Now that I say that, I want to remind everyone that they shouldn’t feel sorry for me because I am not suffering. I may be in a situation that isn’t ideal, but I am free in my mind and at heart. My mandatory time is almost up and hopefully, the judge will see it fit to give me an early release based on my growth. I am optimistic that the judicial system will. Please note this: If it doesn’t happen I will still continue enjoying my life and standing strong while locked away.i d hopefully, the judge will see it fit to give me an early release based on my growth.

You know, I'm not a college football fan, but I'm rooting for the guy. I really am.

Sometimes it takes poisoning yourself...

2009-02-26T00:30:00.005-05:00

...to cure you of your problems (and sometimes it still takes a month for the antidote to work things out).

I got tired, internet. I got tired of writing and tired of being passionate. I'm not sure of when it happened, but I know it did. Those writing assignments that I had once cherished and were thankful for ripping my body out of a soul destroying job and a loveless marriage turned into daily little pieces of annoyance. I would sit here in front of the computer and dread working, dread doing what I loved because I felt like it was work. Work, my least favorite four letter word.

A few weeks ago it all came to a head. I took a massive dose of magic mushrooms and spent almost 13 hours walking around my house being a love god. I stood naked, in love with the world. Crying at the beauty of music and falling in love with how beautiful my girlfriend's pale skin looked in the afternoon sun with tiny dust particles floating in the air, crackling around her soft curves like little fireworks. I talked about life and how love was the most important thing that any of us can feel, because it is the first thing we feel as children, and then I looked into my office.

The room was dark and the music was pouring out. I stood there, by then in a t-shirt and shorts and stared at the the glow of the computer screen, and it's eerie light calling me to it. This is where you create, this is where you exist. I stood there for what was an eternity not wanting to walk into that room, freaking out at the fact that I do create in here, and I do, to an extent, exist more in this room and at this keyboard than I ever have before. I stood there in that hullucinogenic state, dreading walking in here.

All of the sudden, a flash of light came from behind me, snapping me out of my hell ride into whatever dark part of my brain I had been going to before.

It was Jessica taking my picture. I lashed out at her, and she apologized and put up the camera. Later I apologized for yelling at her, and she said something that was so beautiful and profound that I didn't immediately get what she was saying until tonight.

It was probably more beautiful in my head than it was in real life.

Something about those fourteen words really struck me tonight. What she saw wasn't my dread, she saw the beauty of what I do. In her words, she saw a childlike figure staring off into the abyss. I'm sure none of this is as beautiful and profound to any of you as it is me, but she's right. What I do in here, at this desk, on this keyboard, in this blog, on your screen is probably more beautiful in my head than it actually is in to you the reader, and for the first time in a long time, I'm okay with that. What I need to write this blog for is me. If you read and find some wisdom, some humor, some light or some perspective, that's fine. But what I really want you to find are new entries. New chances for me to reach for that beauty that Jess saw, new chances to turn a new phrase, to make a cunt like Don Yelton mad, to inspire, to piss off people at the Xpress or just to have a place to put the eighty one billion pulses of light that go through my head on any given day.

So here I present a re commitment to my blog, complete with a new name. It's a second wind. A second chance. Another place to put all of these little pieces of thoughts, these little words and blessings that come from my head. A place to wrap those big boyish emotions that I feel around a few songs and a few dirty words. This is who I am, and I'm not done yet.

Next time, remind me to tell you about the panic attack I had a few weeks ago.

In the meantime, here's a song by The Persuasions- The Meek Shall Inherit Nothing

Until later today, be good.

Listamania

2009-01-30T02:57:00.001-05:00

When Asheville was first mapped on google street view, I had a bit of an existential crisis. It felt like I was looking at this crystallized and rather idealized version of my hometown on a rather perfect spring/summer morning. Just the calm of everything reminded me of new snow on the ground. It was that moment that I realized that I don't live in that place anymore and I am only a visitor. I don't know if I can put it into words but there was something very strange about seeing something so familiar frozen in time and yet in perfect 3-D. I expected me or my friends to be in the pictures somewhere. You can see my friend Jen in the front door of her house. I wonder if we all died tomorrow if they'd memorialize the town with google street view.
I can listen to a cat purr for hours. Just the sound of it makes me calm and safe feeling. I remember when I was a little kid I had a cat named Tom we'd hide in the woods and I'd listen to him purr while I pet him. Those were happy memories.
The fact that Jessica teaches children always makes me swell up with pride. I love that she is giving someone knowledge that is going to be there for the rest of their lives. I may write a story that makes someone go see a band or whatever, but Jessica is teaching addition and subtraction to 9 year olds. That's way more powerful. If I ever make more money than her for doing what I do, I will never stop feeling guilty.
I don't consider myself religious at all, but the sound of good black gospel music always brings me to tears. Just the fact that something so emotional and heartfelt was created in honor or something that I don't know if I'll ever understand makes me really feel incomplete as a human being.
I miss my grandma. For those of you who don't know, my grandma was pretty much my mother, and she died in October of 2007. There isn't an hour that goes by when I don't think about her. She taught me so much and I (like most people) was too stupid and self involved to realize it as it was happening. It's only now when I remember reading with her or knowing that you add onions to ground beef to help give it flavor that I know my grandmother taught me well.
Only in the last 10 years have I learned how awesome my sister is. She's like this big friggin' oak tree that holds everything up in my family. I take and take and take at times from her, but she's always there to help me. One day I'm going to do something nice for her to help make up for all the times she's helped me and I was too self absorbed to realize how cool she was being.
Bort is my best friend on the planet. I have known this for years, but it really took living with him to make me realize what a wonderful steady influence he is on me. I can't really sum up what he's like to me, but I read something the other night and it made me think of him. I was reading about the cover of Springsteen's "Darkness on the Edge of Town" album, and the photographer was talking about how Springsteen went to his house to take the picture. Bruce was wanting to buy a house of his own at the time and was really admiring the photographer's place. He stood on the guy's front porch, looked at him and said "I wish I had a front porch like this. If I did, I could do a lot of sitting." For some reason the calm that Springsteen wishes for made me think of Bort and the inner peace he has. I would kill for that.
I consider the time I spent in that little house on Woodrow to be one of the best times of my life. I don't know why, but I learned so much about myself and other people there. Not to mention I had anal sex with that Jewish girl I dated a bunch there.
One of my favorite things to do now is to cook with Jessica. We stand in the kitchen and chop stuff and talk. Sometimes we listen to music, and other times we just sing. It's always nice, even when we are tired or cold.
My niece Tori probably saved my life. I went through a period of my life when I felt so hopeless inside, and I felt like my entire life was pointless and rather futile. Then my sister had Tori. It really opened my eyes to how amazing life is and should be. She still inspires me to do better and to try harder. One day she's going to be smarter than I am, and I can't wait for that day.
I'm in school now and everyone I've spoken to in my profession says that there is no reason for me to get a degree. That's so crazy. I still want a degree just so I can prove to myself that I can get one. I would love to let my grandpa see me walk across the stage or whatever you do when you get a college diploma. Also, I would like to be able to hold my knowledge over people's heads and pretend I'm better than him. I do that now, but I'd like to have a piece of paper to back it up.
I get entirely too much of a thrill out of frustrating my girlfriend to the point where she's ready to scream at me. I don't know why.
I love the Drive-By Truckers. Something about the songs they sing and the stories they tell speak to me on a cellular level. Those stories about drinking too much, rocking too hard, and fucking the wrong people resonate with me. Maybe it's like some kid who's never been to war watching Glory and getting a hard on or something.
The first album I ever bought was Slippery When Wet by Bon Jovi on cassette.
I didn't hear Led Zeppelin until I was about 19 years old. If I did, nobody told me it was them. I was working in a record store and I felt rather stupid that I had never listened to them so I bought their first three albums. I dig them now.
I realized tonight at the restaurant that Jessica and I ate at that there is something good in most songs. It might just be a second long, but everyone can find something they love about every songs they hear.
Every time I go to Athens my heart just melts a bit more. I love that town so much and the people there. The paper I write for down there is cool and the people who work there seem great. I just love that the whole town seems devoted to music.
I cry during any Christmas movie that I watch. It's rather sad, but the overall message of most Christmas movies is my ideal for how I look at the world: be good to each other and love everyone as often as you can.
When I'm drunk at home and it's quiet, my pets kind of freak me out and make me cry. I just feel like a monster because here are these things that are alive and obviously love me very much, and I sometimes ignore them. I read somewhere that domesticated animals never truly become emotionally mature, and that frightens me. Here we have these things that are stunted, adult children who depend upon us for food and water and we ignore them. I cry sometimes because I think that I'm a monster for not loving them enough. It's so weird to me that they are alive and have thoughts and feelings. It's weird that I am intuitive to them so much I know some of these thoughts and feelings and yet I still ignore them. I feel like a monster.
I totally just started feeling bad and crying while typing that.
In a lot of ways I idolize my friend Miguel. He's smarter than I am, and he is driven. I sometimes want him to succeed in this world more than I want myself to succeed.
I worry about all of my friends way to much. I don't know what I'd do without them. I would rather die first when I get old because I don't want to go through that pain. Plus if I die first my funeral will be the saddest and maybe people that live out of town will come to it.
I get jealous of the people on "Intervention" because I wish my friends would surprise me and and tell me how they really feel about me in a series of heartfelt notes. After the notes are done I'd then get wisked away to a seaside rehab for three months to talk about my feelings. God that sounds fun.
I'm terribly self absorbed. I try not to be. I think sometimes I do it to compensate for having an extremely low self esteem.
All in all, I just want to be nice to people. I joke around and I'm a jerk, but deep down I really do want the best for everyone. Especially Jessica, my family and my friends. One day before I die I'm going to show them all what they mean to me.
I'm only doing this because there was bourbon on the kitchen.

I'm around

2009-01-25T13:18:00.000-05:00

I promise. I swear. I'm just busy. I have set up a twitter feed on my blog.

Actual Conversations: Something I heard at School Today

2009-01-13T22:59:00.003-05:00

Two guys are talking, one black and one white.

White Guy: That homework is due on Monday, right?

Black Guy: No man, on Wednesday- we don't have class on Monday.

White Guy: Why not?

Black Guy: Monday is Martin Luther King Day.

White Guy: Oh. (Long pause) How does that work?

Black Guy: What do you mean?

White Guy: Do I need to buy you a present or something?

God I love this place. With that being said, I say we begin a new tradition: white people, buy a black person a gift on MLK Day.

Until later, be good.

New Blog!

2009-01-08T21:12:00.002-05:00

I've started a companion blog of sorts to So Much for Tact, it's called The Obama Email Project, and it's going to be used to show all of the emails I am getting from the campaign (most of them are used to ask for money). I might be importing some of my Obama posts from over here, but please check it out.

Relaunch!

2009-01-07T15:07:00.001-05:00

I'm wanting to relaunch my blog as something else this spring. If anyone out there has any web design experience and feels like donating some time, can you please get in touch? I'd like to bounce a few ideas off of you and see if you can help me.

Thanks

My Uncle's Story

2009-01-07T00:09:00.006-05:00

Do you see that, people? That's 3 generations of Gangstadom. Three generations deep of Bugg wit, wisdom and cynicism. There's something about Being a Bugg. It's a tender heart and a magical ability to crassly fuck up everything at will. It's big ideas and no motivation. It's being a Southern Man.

This is my family- well, some of it. I'm not going to talk about everyone in the family, just one guy in particular. The guy on the right, my uncle Danny.

Danny is the funniest guy I know. He's a shitkicker in the first degree. We get along alright and one day I'm going to pay him the $100 I still owe him from 2004. Danny popped into my head today during a long drive to Asheville.

I was listening to the Drive-By Truckers and the guitar strums of "Let There Be Rock" began. Patterson Hood sang in his southern twang:

"Dropped acid at a Blue Oyster Cult concert when I was 14 years old, I thought them lasers were a spider chasin' me.."

While I don't know if Danny has ever done acid at a Blue Oyster Cult concert, the feeling was there.

Let me explain...

A few summers ago I worked with Danny helping him with his painting business. Most of the time I would hold the ladder for him and think about ex girlfriends that I had naked. But in between the silence as Danny stood high up on a 40 foot ladder, Danny told me stories about doing drugs in the seventies, going to see ELO and how much he loved Lynyrd Skynyrd. I never really processed how much they ment to Danny until the Truckers mythologized Mssrs Van Zant, Collins, Gaines, Rosington, Pyle, Powell and Wilkeson on their great album Southern Rock Opera.

I interviewed lead Trucker Patterson Hood last week, and I was struck by how deeply he cares about his identity, and what it means to people. He's a shitkicker with a brain, and that isn't a bad thing.

The thing that is amazing to me is how Hood is really telling the stories of people like my uncle Danny without them even really being privy to hearing them. Sure there's a universal element to what the Truckers sing, but there music is too handmade, too free of irony, too deviod of outside influence to really register with people my age. We view this kind of rock n' roll like a relic in a museum. This isn't what rock is now, it's an idealized version of what rock n' roll should have sounded like in 1976. For that, it's beautiful.

The Truckers touch me, the teach me, and they show me what music should sound like. They tell me not to hang my head because of my proximity to the Mason-Dixon Line, instead they tell me to be proud of where I'm from and who I am.

It's the southern thing. There's no duality to it this time. It's singular and pure.

So listen to this song. Tell me what you think.

Until later, be good.

I'm Back, and here are a few plugs and notes

2009-01-06T23:57:00.002-05:00

I'm back, and still trying to figure out what to do to share music with you guys. I've decided for a while that I'm going to be embedding the music in my posts. You can listen, but you can't download. Unless you ask nicely.

Here are a few plugs.

I cover Of Montreal in the latest issue of the Xpress. Read that here.

I followed that up with a preview of Sunny Ledfurd in the latest issue of Flagpole. He isn't Dylan, hell he isn't Jacob Dylan, but he's something. Read that here.

Also, remember my trip to Cincinnati to see The Gaslight Anthem? I did that for an article in Blurt Magazine's online edition. You can read it by going here, clicking on the virtual magazine and turning to page 10. Read it and tell me what you think.

Jessica and I got a dog. His name is Chili. I really like the big 100 pound bastard. I'm finally back in school finishing up my journalism degree, and I miss Bort terribly.

More in just a few.

Be good.

Update!

2008-12-19T14:43:00.001-05:00

Blogger thinks that me giving out Christmas music makes the baby Jesus cry. I'm trying to figure something else out. Give me a few hours and I'll see what I can do for you people. I love you all.

Another Article!

2008-12-17T02:12:00.002-05:00

In this week's Flagpole, I cover Taking Back Sunday.

Check it out here.

Bugg in JamBase!

2008-12-16T23:34:00.003-05:00

My review of the Warren Haynes Xmas Jam is up on JamBase. It was a last minute fill in thing and a lot of fun to do.

The concrete and steel of the Asheville Civic Center may reek of a concert venue past its prime, out of date and sorely in need of repair, but for the duration of the 20th Annual Warren Haynes Christmas Jam the unwelcoming and dank building took the form of a sawdust-on-the-floor blues shack, a church pew, a campfire and a multitude of other forms of transformative musical power.

Check it out here.

The Twelve Songs of Christmas: Part 4

2008-12-15T23:52:00.004-05:00

The Twelve Songs of Christmas: Parts 1-3

2008-12-15T03:25:00.003-05:00

In honor of the Holiday Season, So Much for Tact is bringing you 11 awesome Christmas songs (and one sorta Christmas song) that you can download, play and feel the Christmastime love to. It's what I do, people. So feel the love with me this Christmas. Enjoy. Also, if you don't like Christmas music you are a huge dick. It's hokey to like Christmas music, I know. But it's hokey to like Roy Clark, Ronnie Milsap, Rush and Hall and Oates also, but I do and loyal readers of So Much for Tact should also. So without further adieu, here are your first three Christmas songs of Wonder (I'm still searching for a better title).

First up is fun song to help sway the Christmas music haters out there with a little humor. It's called "Don't Believe in Christmas" by The Sonics.

The Sonics- Don't Believe in Christmas

Next is "Silver Bells" by Booker T and the MGs. It's not the mournful tune that most people are used to hearing. Instead Booker T and company make the song cook, and it's appreciated.

Booker T and the MGs- Silver Bells

and finally is Fats Domino doing "I Told Santa Claus" because there needs to be more Christmas songs about screwing. I've decided that if you don't have children, then Christmas could be the most erotic holiday. Hopefully you will think so too after hearing these tunes.

Fats Domino- I Told Santa Claus

I'm going to try to have a song up every day leading towards Christmas, so look out for these. By the way, these are in no particular order- except for the last one, which is the greatest Christmas song of all time. Requests will be taken, but it's up to me to honor them.

Come back on Tuesday for more Christmas stuff, and later today for other randomness.

Be good.

Christmas Jam, night two

2008-12-14T05:50:00.002-05:00

Jesus Christ.

Nearly 12 hours after the music began for me with a really amazing acoustic set by Patterson Hood of the Drive-By Truckers at Jack of the Woods it ended with a furious, heavy and righteous one-two combination of "The Ocean" and "When the Levee Breaks" done by Gov't Mule featuring John Paul Jones on bass and some additional help from local guitar whiz Mike Barnes and Ben Harper. It was a pretty damn good time. Once again, same format as yesterday- random thoughts strung together, I'm far too tired to make this coherent and pretty. Plus you aren't paying me.

Warren Haynes' opening a cappella duet with Ruthie Foster set the tone for the night it was stripped down, raw and incredibly naked. It was also in parts challenging and almost a dare to the audience- stick with us to see what we are going to do. They traded vocal licks like Haynes trades guitar licks, and I think Foster won, but then again I have a thing for husky voiced black women.

The night began in full with an All Star band featuring rotating vocal spots from Joan Osbourne, Ruthie Foster, Patterson Hood, Kevin Kinney and Edwin McCain. It was rather nice, just listening to them throw down on some Otis Redding, Sam and Dave, Aretha Franklin and Rolling Stones songs. The crowd responded and it seemed like at that point the guantlet was thrown for the night- this wasn't a chance to plug the latest record, this night was a celebration of music and a chance for performers to try to one up each other.

Steve Earle played next and was just too Steve Earle for the night. At times alone with just his acoustic guitar, Earle played the part of the earnest folksinger- he seemed unwilling to collaborate, but looking back it made sense. Earle's voice as a musician and songwriter has become so singular that it just made no sense for him to try to pretend to be something else.

A seemingly impromptu gathering of Earle, Haynes, Joan Osbourne, Travis Tritt and Ruthie Foster performing "Gotta Serve Somebody" was next, and it seemed heartfelt-especially Tritt's performance. Say what you will about the guy's career, live he can cook.

One of the more emotional moments was next in the form of Johnny Winter- Haynes introduced him as an idol, and with that his band tore into the raunchiest Texas blues I've ever heard. Winter's health isn't the best, but from a seated position the dude played the hottest light speed blues guitar runs I've heard. The guy didn't look down at all, just sat there like a coma victim but played some amazing stuff. Jessica remarked that his body had slowed down and withered, except for his hands and fingers. He just didn't stop. It was pretty amazing to see and the ovation Winter recieved afterwards showed that he was appreciated.

Coheed and Cambria seemed like the odd men out- thier challenging prog metal was destined to be out of place on the bill and it was, but while the younger more open minded hippie crowd ran to the beer line covering their ears and ironically headbanging, an old dude beside me looked at me and said "It's fuckin' Rush". It made total sense. So much for the dreadlocked set and their cries of diversity. I thought the stuff they played was rather brilliant- it kept the conceptual strain of the evening going and offered the crowd a view of hot guitar playing that wasn't in the blues rock or country flat picking genre.

Perhaps the biggest surprise for me was Michael Franti and Jay Bowman's acoustic performance. Instead of going the Steve Earle route and playing uncomprimising folk Franti went the Peter Paul and Mary way of folk- the all inclusive singalong. I knew none of the man's songs but sang every song, clapping like a loon and dancing in my seat. By the end of the performance (which was accompanied by a mandolin wielding John Paul Jones) Franti was the leader of the Xmas Jam army, and could have mobilized us to do anything he wished. Instead he told the crowd to have a good time. Pretty amazing stuff.

Ben Harper and Relentless 7 appeared next and played the hardest rocking R&B set I've heard in a while. I've never seen Harper live, but expected the mellow "Steal my Kisses" dude. Instead I got a breathless and crazily energetic performance. I loved it.

The Mule was next, and they answered the night's challenges with a bluesy and Zepp-ified set. I guess it's one of those things that Haynes and company couldn't resist- I mean, they had JOHN PAUL JONES there, why not play a few Zepplin songs. The amazing "Since I've Been Loving You" was for me the emotional zenith of the show: the huge backbeat, the blistering guitar and the plaintive wail of the vocals. It was pretty amazing stuff.

All in all it was an awesome show. I'm still processing it all.

On a personal note two really awesome things happened tonight- the first was as I was running downstairs into the press area to get some info from a college right after the "I Shall Be Released" performance. I knew I was eventually going to run into a few rock stars, but I told myself to keep it cool and act professional- my all access pass was to be used to enjoy the shows and not bother these guys- but on the stairwell going down to the room I looked to my left and it was Travis Tritt beside me. I didn't know what to think. I looked to the right instantly because I didn't want to freak out and Steve Earle was right beside me. he was on the other side of the handrail of the steps. I freaking love Steve Earle so it was a pretty crazy moment. I decided to just put my head down , hold onto the handrail, calmly walk down the steps and find my contact. I placed my hand on the rail and felt something warm, rough and large. It was Steve Earle's hand. I was sort of holding hands with the dude. I pulled my hand away and said sorry, but I don't think he noticed.

HOLY SHIT!

The next thing was after Franti's performance he lept off of the stage and into the photo pit just between the stage and the crowd. He was hugging people and signing things. I looked at Jess and told her to get up from our top level swank ass VIP seats and let's go meet him. She mulled it over, said yes and off we went. She loves Franti so much and was only wanting to see him in concert. By the time we ran down to the front of the arena, used our passes to get into the area just beside the photo pit (this was the only time I used my access for evil this weekend) and looked to find Franti just exiting the crowd and walking towards the stairwell to the downstairs area (the same stairwell where I made a move on Steve Earle). Jessica stole a guy's magic marker and told Franti it was an amazing show. He smiled, said some nice things to her, signed her pass and walked away. Jess was near tears. I am the best boyfriend ever.

That was the best part of the weekend for me. The music critic is going to love the intimacy and the staggaring amount of music I witnessed, the writer is going to love all the characters I saw- good and bad over the last two days, but the person in me loved getting my girlfriend a chance to see someone she loved up close, to get a silly signature on a piece of paper, and to say a word to them. It meant everything to me.

I suppose that's all I want to say right now. I'm tired and FINALLY going to sleep in my own bed. Maybe my cat will sleep under the covers with me. If I'm lucky.

Bugg out. Be good.

Christmas Jam- Night One

2008-12-13T11:45:00.003-05:00

I'm tired. Last night was a long and exhausting night of listening to guitar solo after guitar solo. But at the same time, it was a really awesome show. I'm not going to write up a proper review, but rather a collection of thoughts and impressions.

I never really liked Warren Haynes and Gov't Mule, but their opening set last night was awesome. The songs had this cool tough rock boogie thing, and were just R&B influenced enough to make them tolerable. Haynes' playing was tight and spot on, and while the guy doesn't have what people would call a world class voice, he belted out the tunes last night. I was seriously impressed.

Ivan Neville and Dumpstaphunk were pretty good. They had some of the things that I don't like about funk happening, but all in all it was a good show. They closed out their set with an awesome version of Sly and the Family Stone's "Thank You (Falletinme Be Mice Elf Again)", which had awesome energy.

One of the best parts of the night was Del McCourey playing. I didn't realize it at the time but John Paul Jones from Led Zeppelin was playing mandolin for him. It was really neat. Travis Tritt and Joan Osbourne came out and did this really neat and tight 3 part harmony with Del that left me near tears. Then the Lee Boys came out and did this awesome version of "Celebrate" with Del McCourey. It was neat watching a bluegrass group collide with black gospel infused R&B. It was world peace on that stage. I loved it.

Joan Osbourne came out after that and I knew she had a good voice, but I had no clue she could sing like she did. Her voice teased and flirted with the crowd. It was rather nice. I just wish she had a proper band with her rather than the fill in musicians (no disrespect to them) to play some songs. I'd love to hear her kick out some old school Motown hits like she did in "Standing in the Shadows of Motown".

Travis Tritt was the surprise of the show for me, at least. He played this rough, rockin' and bluesy set that really showed off his voice. I'm not that big of a fan of post 1985 country music, but Tritt was awesome last night. His voice has this growl like Kenny Rogers. I mean that in a good way. Just the way it gets scratchy on some notes. I really dug that about him. His only misstep was a cover of "I Walk the Line" by Johnny Cash. It just didn't work.

One of the coolest things was John Paul Jones and Warren Haynes playing "Soul Shine" and a version of Led Zeppelin's "Going to California". Holy shit. After their two song set, John Paul Jones came and stood in the artists area that was just below where Jessica and I stood. It was neat thinking about the molecules in the air : this one is normal this one is normal this one is normal THIS ONE PLAYED IN LED ZEPPLIN this one is normal. Derek Trucks and his band played with Susan Tedeschi, and they did an awesome Derek and the Dominoes songs. I guess Trucks is really wanting to be Duane Allman. It's kind of eerie.

The Allman Brothers Band was there, and Jess and I watched a few songs. There was over the top guitar playing all around courtesy of Warren Haynes, but the really neat thing was watching Greg Allman play the Hammond Organ. Other people played it that night, but nobody made the thing sing like he did. It was pretty awesome.

I'll elaborate more on this later, right now I'm just trying to catch my breath and mentally prepare myself for Night Two.

Until later, be good. By the way, Jon Elliston over at the Mountain Xpress took that photo.

Drinking and Thinking

2008-12-12T02:45:00.003-05:00

I never thought I'd be where I am right now. I'm not talking about being physically where I am, but just my general station in life. Hell, I never thought I'd be 31. I always imagined me having a pretty hip twenties and then that's where the fantasy ended. But here I am, 31, dirt poor and at the edge of something. I don't know what is over this edge, but it feels massive. Massive meaning good or bad, I have no clue. I just feel like something monumental is on the verge of happening. Maybe it's not the monumental that most people think about- I may not write the great American novel or climb a mountain or save a 6 year old from an uzi attack, but I did fucking interview Percy Sledge.

Percy Sledge. I've interviewed that guy. I've loved him ever since the first episode of The Wonder Years when Kevin made out with Winnie after her brother died in Vietnam, and I spoke to him.

Maybe it's the bourbon in me but that shit doesn't just happen. You don't get on the phone with Percy Sledge and tell him he's awesome and he calls you sir. What the hell is that? The guy who sings "When a Man Loves a Woman" called me sir. That's such horseshit. If he was in front of me I'd tell him to shut up. I should be calling him sir.

Here's a song that is the essence of feeling and emotion conveyed into a 3 minute pop record. He created a cliche as he was singing. There was the template for the longing that people feel for someone else before that song and after. And I spoke with him from his cordless phone in Mississippi.

I get in awe sometimes of this crap. I expect the rug to be pulled out from under me at times. Sorry indie rockers if I don't fall at your feet, I interviewed Percy fucking Sledge who is a million times more vital than your smug asses could ever be.

Sometimes I wish that I wasn't white. I mean, there are some wonderful things about white culture (for example, my love of ice hockey) that I wouldn't trade for anything, but still- we white people are fucking whiney and boring. I don't think black people of my generation have this irony drenched smugness about them. I have no black friends to ask about this.

By the way, do you have any clue how hard it is to find a black friend in Jackson County, NC? Seriously, what do you do, put out a Craigslist add for a black friend? How would that read?

White dude, 31 seeks black male to hang out with and become good friends. Email for more info.

If I read that I'd assume someone was looking to hook up.

But back to my origional point- being white is cool, but being black is cooler. There's a certain soul, a certain respect of their elders, a certain older and wiser quality about every black person I've ever met.

I think back to growing up in my lilly-white existance. The first contact I had with black people was going to Elementary School. I sat next to Ahmad Gaines and I remember feeling his hair and saying "your hair feels neat". I must have been the most offensive rube out there.

But now, all I want is to understand black people. I wish I could sit down and have an honest, no holds barred conversation with a black man about the world. I'm sure it'd be interesting. Maybe we'd learn something. Maybe he likes Seinfeld as much as I do, and maybe I like the Wu Tang Clan as much as he does.

It's all about building bridges, people.

By the way, the last thing I want to sound like is one of those apologetic white liberals. I'm not that. I'm a pretty calm cool guy. I just have a tendency to say the wrong thing.

What was this blog about? Oh yeah, Percy Sledge and my lot in life. I have nothing else to say about that. I suppose I could ramble on until the conclusion of my drink, but I don't think that it's going to work this way. Instead, I'm going to post an awesome Percy Sledge song and hope someone can make sense of my drunken ramblings.

Percy Sledge- When a Man Loves a Woman

Percy Sledge- Out of Left Field

Until later, please be good. I love you all.

Project Fridays: Groggy and Romantic

2008-12-11T23:44:00.002-05:00

New Articles out there

2008-12-10T23:46:00.003-05:00

Alright people, I've got some new articles in print from a bunch of different papers, so let's get to it.

First up, in the latest issue of the Colorado Springs Independent, I cover New York Hardcore Legends Agnostic Front.

You can read the article here.

In the latest issue of The Pitch, which is based in Kansas City, I cover hip hop/pop/whatever artist Shwayze.

Cisco Adler may be known for his dating history (Paris Hilton and Mischa Barton, among others) and the insta-celebrity infamy it brought, but his 15 minutes of fame isn't limited to only sleeping with models and leaking nude photos on the Internet.

You can read that here.

In the latest issue of the LEO, I cover Lou-uh-vuhl's Slithering Beast, who are really awesome.

Rustic, almost ramshackle guitar strums sit alongside catchy, considered arrangements. The Slithering Beast aesthetic is on display on their latest album, Midnight Royalty. It’s a homemade album in every sense, from the intimate and catchy sound to the location where they recorded.

Check that out here.

And finally in the latest Mountain Xpress, I cover the Warren Haynes Christmas Jam, which is a really fun night of music in Asheville, NC. I have a piece of the cover story (along with staff writer Alli Marshall and A&E editor Rebecca Sulock), so check it out.

Here's the article.

I also cover the Christmas Jam by Day, which is new this year. In the article I interviewed a ton of bands, and it sounds like a nice intimate showcase of local and national talent.

As a Christmas Jam veteran and a longtime singer/songwriter/road warrior, Kinney has spent countless weeks away from home slugging it out in tiny bars for little pay. But Kinney also knows that the right environment can create musical magic, and that’s why he’s helping to curate the inaugural Christmas Jam by Day, a two-day continuation of the Christmas Jam concerts.

Check out the article here.

Until later when I feel like updating, be good.

Welcome to my world

2008-12-09T00:18:00.001-05:00

McSweeney's Loss is YOUR Gain

2008-12-05T22:27:00.002-05:00

Last week I came up with a brilliant idea for a McSweeney's List. I typed it up and submitted it. It turns out that the idea wasn't quite McSweeney's worthy, but I thought I'd share it with you anyways. Here are 5 Signatures from my Sophomore Yearbook (Updated with What the Signers are Doing Now). I have removed the names to protect the innocent.

Hey You! Yeah, the one with the turquoise hair! Aren't you gay? Well, whatever your sexual preference is, it's been a real experience with you in first period. You're, without a doubt, one of the more interesting people I've met-not to mention pretty funny, too. See you later.

(Trial lawyer, Raleigh NC)

This year has been fun with you in my English class. You are the craziest white boy I know (no offense). Have a smooth and easy summer, and I'll be back here next year. See Ya!

(Human Resources Supervisor, Charlotte NC)

You're not a stone mason, but you like to show your ass to the world! You fat motherfucker, your stomach looks like a big hairy ass when you squeeze it together, but that's okay. Party all year, call me for a big party. (Unemployed, Asheville NC)You idiot lint-head. I'm sorry someone took everything from your locker and put meat in it- it wasn't me. Love you.

(Registered Nurse, Asheville NC)

Life in general has been really fucked up. I thank you for the many bitch sessions & phone conversations, ya prick. No submission & women were made to cook and clean and bare children. If you don't get rid of that fucking Hawaiian shirt I might have to kill you. Have a shitty summer. I love you because you try!

(Housewife and church day care worker, Asheville NC)

I hope you liked it, and be good.

Project Fridays: Bass in your face

2008-12-05T01:59:00.003-05:00

(Yes, the picture is upside down. No, it isn't an error. I took it that way in 1996. I was 19. Weird huh?)

In an effort to both drive up the commenting here at So Much For Tact as well as to completely rip off two blogs that I love, The Driftwood Singers Present and I am Fuel-You are Friends, I will now be highlighting music that I love and that people should hear every Friday, weather and real life permitting. As a disclaimer for those with prying eyes, I am not a fan of illegally downloading music, so the songs I highlight will be songs from albums that I have bought and paid for and are to be downloaded for demonstration only. If any lawyer type wants me to take the song down, feel free to shoot me a line. So now I present to you these songs, the undiscovered ones, the recently discovered gems, and a few that should stay under the covers.

I'm of the opinion that a good bassline, or even good bass playing can change your life. Maybe that's because I played bass guitar for a number of years, maybe it's because I love that sweet soul music, or maybe it's just because I'm a contrarian to you lead guitar minded people. Either way, I love the bass guitar.

This week an old friend contacted me about getting a few Asheville bands together from the mid-90s to play a show. We haven't hammered out the details yet, but I had to seriously think about it for a while. The notion of revisiting those times when I was a creative person and not just the dolt critiquing other people's art was and is rather intimidating.

I don't know if I was made for a band. It seemed like my musical taste went wherever the wind took me back then, and my own frustrations and limitations I put upon myself as a musician I projected upon the other members of my band. Hindsight is 20/20, I suppose. I will say this, for a band that mixed the whole Fugazi-post punk aesthetic with Pantera inspired groove metal and 70s arena rock, we were pretty good, and despite my rather poor bass playing, we had an amazing rhythm section.

I needed inspiration back then to try to find a way to incorporate the funk and soul music I loved into the punk rock beats we played. The person I turned to back then was (and still is) Mike Watt for that. Watt is a bass playing machine and one of my personal heroes. He always seemed like an old jazz cat that got stuck playing this odd brand of punk rock. For him, punk wasn't about rage and anarchy, instead it was about challenging the way people thought and playing music that did just that.

By the time that his first band, the Minutemen broke up, Watt was already well known as a badass. His next act, fIREHOSE, upped the ante. They were a rock machine. His bass playing finally arrived and sounded tight enough around the funk and hard rock rhythms. Watt spoke to me when he played the bass. I'm sure Watt spoke to many people, but I always felt like I listened to it a bit more than most people.

So I listened to some Watt this week and wondered if I had it in me to not just get together for old times sake and have a laugh, but to challenge myself and the band I was in. I want to be better, not just as a bass player, but as a bandmate. I want to go into that rehearsal room before the show and let them know that I'm ready to play some rock and roll with no expectations. The only thing I want is for us to be proud of what we did together after this show is over.

I guess you can tell I'm in for the gig. Hopefully our drummer will be too.

So in honor of looking back, in honor of the bass guitar, and in honor of Watt being a groovy motherfucker, here's some fIREHOSE, featuring Mike Watt on bass guitar.

fIREHOSE- The Red and the Black

fIREHOSE- Makin' the Freeway

Until later today, be good.

Plugz

2008-12-03T23:24:00.001-05:00

In the latest issue of Flagpole, I preview a showing of head Flaming Lips member Wayne Coyne's new film Christmas on Mars.

The film itself, which has been shot over the last seven years by Coyne, also feels a lot like one of his compositions: a piecemeal affair that combines high art, 1950s sci-fi aesthetics and several untrained actors hamming it up to suit the creator’s vision. Sure, the movie’s shoestring budget may show at times, but that is all part of the appeal of Christmas on Mars.

You can read about it here.

More later. Be good.

Oh sweet internet.

2008-12-03T03:15:00.002-05:00

Do you people realize how thankless a sense of responsibility about a blog is? It sucks. I'm constantly looking for music to share, and I don't get a thank you or anything.

A lot of good you are, internet.

You're like that girl that you meet in a bar one Saturday and you drive drunk with her to your apartment on Woodrow Avenue in the heart of Asheville under the auspices of watching old episodes of "Tha Ali G Show" but you end up having sexual relations. She lives out of town and is a makeup girl, but says that she is going to move back and you can date her, but it never happens.

Well, you are like how I felt at the time: used, mistreated, but kind of flattered. Do you really just see me as a piece of meat, internet? If so, that's awesome. I've never been a piece of meat before.

Look internet, I'm sure this is going to work out for the best. I think the wisest thing for both of us right now is to try to make this work. Let's ignore the big stuff right now (me wanting a loyal group of commenters who hang on my ever word while getting into spirited debate about my opinions and you wanting the anonymity that the internet can provide) and focus on the little things- I want a few kind words or opinions after the comments and you want good writing and songs to listen to. Let's start there.

Maybe after this little flirtation we can become closer, dear internet.

I hope.

I've taken a shining to you.

Be good.

Jazz for Dummies (like me).

2008-12-01T23:37:00.004-05:00

Over the course of my long Thanksgiving excursion to Jessica's parents in Greensboro, a tiny bit of my childhood popped back up in the form of "A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving" on the television. During the show there is this fabulous musical sequence that people need to hear. I was instantly taken by the song and the music. I can't believe something that awesome was ever on television.

But then again, maybe I do. Back in the early 70s when the show first aired the world was a lot larger and cars looked cooler than they do now. Of course they played music like that.

Upon listening to the song, which is done by Vince Guaraldi, I realized that I am rather musically ignorant when it comes to jazz. Here's what I know about the genre:

Basie
Stan Getz, saxophonist
Bossa Nova
John Coltraine
Kind of Blue
Miles Davis
Bitches Brew
Jaco Pastorious
The Weather Report
Fusion
The Weather Channel

Now that list may read like an awesome poem, but it doesn't really say anything about the genre. Something is telling me that I need to devote some serious time to the genre. It couldn't hurt, right?

The problem is this: I don't want to be one of those uptight assholes that listens to jazz and gets mad at people who don't. I want to listen to jazz the same way I listen to any music- to appreciate it, to wonder what the creative impetus was for the sounds that I hear, and then to wonder how it shapes my life.

So with that being said, I want to share two or three jazz songs for Jazz Dummies like myself.

First up is the song that got me into all of this mess, "Little Birdie" by Vince Guaraldi from "A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving"

Second is a song from Frank Sinatra's Bossa Nova album "Frances Albert Sinatra and Antonio Carlos Jobim", here's "Corcavado".

Finally is a song from Astrud Gilberto's album "Beach Samba"- "Stay".

I hope you enjoy it.

I'm back, bitches.

Look for more updates later.

Until then, be good.

Happy Thanksgiving

2008-11-26T23:31:00.001-05:00

Happy Thanksgiving everyone. So Much for Tact is going to be on hiatus until Sunday or Monday. Feel free to leave a comment and I hope you are doing well.

Be good.

Cincinnati (part 2)

2008-11-26T22:43:00.004-05:00

A few weeks ago I wrote about how The Gaslight Anthem's music really shook me from a jaded 31-year-old haze of not paying attention to what was real, vital and life saving about rock and roll. If the music coming out of my speakers was a shake, then Monday night was a full fledged ass kicking.

I drove to Cincinnati on Monday with one mission- to see if Gaslight could in fact throw down and leave me with my jaw ajar like so many rock shows in the past have.

They held up their end of the bargain.

Monday night the Gaslight Anthem justified my 12 hour round trip drive. Over the course of a rather short Monday night concert (just under an hour and a half) the band played barre chords that rang out into the heavens, laid down drum beats that shook the ground like a cavalry charging and sang songs of heartbreak, brotherhood and hope all while making sure there was plenty of space for the crowd to pogo along.

Lead singer Brian Fallon's vocals lacked some of the polish that you hear on their excellent albums, Sink or Swim and The '59 Sound, but the grit in his throat added an edge to the songs that I didn't see coming. The entire show was a magical experience.

With the help of a few bourbons and a few songs, I was album to shake my old man stands in the crowd with arms crossed image and join the fist pumping throngs. I sang along at the top of my lungs, I watched 20 year old guys pound their chest while praising the rock gods, and right on the outside of the testosterone ball that clogs up the front of any show I saw a young couple making out to the music.

This was real, this was raw and this was happening. The Gaslight Anthem were the soundtracks to our lives Monday night, and that's not a bad thing at all.

But don't take my word for it, listen to a few tracks and then go out and buy their albums. Here's two live songs from a show in Berlin.

The Gaslight Anthem- Say I Won't (Recognize)

The Gaslight Anthem- We Came to Dance

Until later, be good.

New stuff!

2008-11-26T01:50:00.003-05:00

I write articles. Sometimes I'm excited about who I write about, sometimes it's just a job. David LaMotte was just a job. I don't dig his music, but talking to him was a really moving and wonderful experience. Read my article in this week's Mountain Xpress to find out why.

Starting in February, LaMotte will attend the University of Queensland in Brisbane, Australia, to pursue an advanced master’s degree in International Relations, Peace and Conflict Resolution. That’s pretty heady stuff for a guy with a guitar.

But LaMotte isn’t just any guy with a guitar. He’s a humanitarian who has devoted time to building schools and improving the quality of life for children in Guatemala, in addition to his touring schedule. It’s tireless work in a time when the notion of changing the world is something that is usually reserved for bumper stickers and flyers advertising punk-rock shows.

You can read it here.

Be good, people.

Cincinnati (part 1)

2008-11-25T23:48:00.003-05:00

I love traveling to someplace new, even for a few short hours. There's something cool about seeing new places, talking to strangers and breathing in air while getting a sense of the enormity of the world we live in that just makes me dizzy sometimes.

On the other hand, I feel like a hick when I travel. That enormity I feel comes with a smallness and inexperience that I can't seem to shake, no matter how old I get. It's weird to be 31 and to get excited about different kinds of fast food and soda in the gas stations.

My trip on Monday made me feel like a rube and a dashing journalist all at once. I didn't get to see much of the city in the few hours that I was there, but what I did see can be covered in a "David Foster Wallace writing about cruise ships" -type list.

Yesterday I glanced at Kentucky and fell in love with the rolling hills and the ash and bruise gray that the clouds turned the sky, I drank Ale-8-1 soda and buzzed on it for about 2 hours, I marveled at the list of bourbon distilleries just down the road from me that I had the time nor the money to visit, I fell in love with the yummy Waffle House charm of Skyline Chili and the metric ton of cheese they put on my 5-way chili, I marveled at the sheer number of liquor stores within walking distance of the bar I was at that were open on Thanksgiving, I realized that I am intimidated by skylines of cities while driving and wondered if there is a psychological condition for such duress, I impressed myself with the ability to drive close to 12 hours without a car stereo, and I finally realized how strange it is that Red Bull intensified a two bourbon buzz into a full on drunk.

I'll have more about the concert later when the person I drunkenly asked me to email the photos of the concert shoots me a line.

Until then here's a Beach Boys song I hummed while staring at the Ohio river and freezing to death in the 30 degree cold.

The Beach Boys- Suzie Cincinnati

Until later, be good.

Also, for those of you who don't know what to get your favorite blogger who posts on this page, this shirt (in XL) is a great idea (and cheap!)

I'm here to help, City Council.

2008-11-25T14:42:00.003-05:00

For those of you who aren't paying attention, with the election of Holly Jones to a Buncombe County Commissioners seat, the Asheville City Council is now short a member. Much ballyhoo has been made about the selection process for the new member. The city seems to be taking applications, which has advocates for the City to replace Jones with the person who received the 4th highest vote total in last year's election (Bryan Freeborn) in a tizzy.

The applications are due tomorrow.

With that being said, I have another proposal for the Asheville City Council that has nothing to do with appointing a new member and everything to do with being a team player. Originally thought up as an idea by Ralph Roberts over at the Mountain Xpress forums, I have decided to put this plan in motion. It starts with a letter.

Here is my letter to City Council and Mayor Bellamy:

Hello Madame Mayor and the rest of City Council- my name is Jason Bugg and I’m a freelance writer based in Sylva, but up until August I was a lifelong Asheville citizen. You may know my name from the buzz around town I receive about my acerbic wit and powerful thighs, but most of you know me for my punchy prose style that I use to wax philosophical about men and women who play electric guitar on a semi regular basis for papers throughout the region. While I am not an employee of any particular paper, I do understand the virtues of working as a team. With that in mind, and as a way to help the City I used to call home and still care about greatly move forward through some tough economic times, I come to you with this offer: With the help of local publishing phenomenon, cable access television star and underground pornography icon Ralph Roberts I present to any two members of City Council (or the Mayor) a trip (chaperoned by me, of course) to the annual King of Trios Tournament which is put on my CHIKARA Pro Wrestling in Pittsburgh Pennsylvania. The tournament, which showcases the most thrilling independent wrestling superstars around in a thrilling six-man tag team tournament is an institution on the independent wrestling circuit. It shows that wrestlers can put aside their differences and work as a team. As concerned members of our community, I’m sure you’ll look past the absurdity of grown men in masks pretending to be anamorphic ice cream cones engaging in fake fighting (or as I like to call it- faux fisties) and see it for what it is; team work, people making hard decisions about who they work with and what they stand for and also a chance to see an independent business that has managed to thrive despite the trying economic times we are currently in. If you are interested, please contact me. I will arrange with Ralph Roberts our means of transportation. I took the liberty of not inviting Dr. Mumpower. I imagine that the beating that some wrestlers will take before his eyes will remind him of his showing in the Congressional race. Thanks for your time.
Jason Bugg

I think it's a no-brainer. What about you?

Until later, be good.

Awake (for now)

2008-11-24T01:47:00.001-05:00

Not much to write about now. It feels like I haven't been doing anything lately. I've kind of been waiting for the holidays to start so that my plans for the blog can really amp up. I've got a big December on tap here at So Much for Tact, so let's just see if it happens.

By this time tomorrow night I'll be driving home from Cincinnati after seeing The Gaslight Anthem and doing some other stuff that I'll tell you about later. But for right now I'm going to bed.

I hope everyone is doing well, and be good.

My Latest Work

2008-11-20T23:57:00.002-05:00

For my latest article in Flagpole I cover Neil Halstead, who is awesome and is the subject of this week's Project Fridays (coming up in about an hour).

But somewhere between the feedback-drenched electric guitar swells of his past and the simple chord progressions of his present lies Neil Halstead today, and while he may not be the songwriter of myth for a legion of record collectors, he just might be the songwriter for the moment for music fans. That’s not a bad thing either.

Click here to read the whole thing.

Also in this week's Colorado Springs Independent is an article on Soulfly, who rock.

Soulfly's latest album — written in a short burst alongside an album by Cavalera's other band, the Cavalera Conspiracy — is an 11-track assault featuring the guttural screams, buzzsaw riffing and double bass drums that first endeared Cavalera to metalheads everywhere.

But Soulfly isn't a vanity project. Each of its albums has upped the sonic ante, and finally with Conquer, the band's hard charging, leviathan-like sound has reached what could be its apex. From the intro of "Blood Fire War Hate" to the closing notes of "Soulfly VI," the music is more relentless, passionate and bone-crunchingly heavy than ever.

Click here to check them out.

Until later, be good.

Soul Brothers and Sythesizers

2008-11-20T12:59:00.002-05:00

It's cold as hell in my house. The drafty windows and thin walls that let me hear all of my meth addled neighbors' hijinks are proving to be a detriment to my fingers wanting to type on the keyboard. So dear readers, if my postings this week are a bit lacking please bear with me.

A friend and I decided a few years ago that the entire nation was on drugs in the early-to-mid 1970s. The nation seemed to be a giant, puke green and dusky orange hue all wrapped around a giant throbbing Synclavier drenched soundtrack.

Growing up as a metalhead a deep fear of electronic music was instilled upon me by meat headed metal dorks that I managed to shake later on. To me, most electronic music was (and is) too impersonal, to cold and to fake. But something about the washes of distorted sounding electric piano on these old records sounds (and feels) every bit as vital as a lead guitar run or a little bass riff to turn the beat around. It lends a certain authenticity to the music and brands it as being created in a certain place and time.

So here's Billy Paul doing Am I Black Enough for You?, (which in my case would be a decided no).

Billy Paul- Am I Black Enough for You?

Happy Birthday to My Sister

2008-11-19T01:39:00.005-05:00

It's hard being 14 months and 2 days older than someone. They go through a lot of the same things as you do, but sometimes they seem like they are a world away. I never really got to know my sister, and it's probably my fault. I'm a bit standoffish to my family and as I get older I feel the effects of that.

But my sister is a good person. She's lived a roller coaster life. From church going Bible thumper to Gangsta Bitch to future Sheriff, she's seen a lot and done a lot. She's also banged a lot of illegal immigrants, which makes her a lot cooler than I am. I've never banged an illegal anything. Jessica one time accidentally wrote a bad check to Ingles. We had sex that night and then the next day she realized what she did and transferred the money to cover it. So my sister is still infinitely cooler.

One of my favorite memories of my sister happened when I was about 16. I don't know why I was in her room, I think I was looking for a newspaper or something and I found a little baseball bat with the phrase "Naughty By Nature" on one side and "Not 'Cause I Hate Cha" on the other. To this day I don't know what the significance of it was, but it was about as close to gangsta as I'll ever get. I'd like to think that she hit people with it, but odds are she just used it to- well, I don't know what she used it for. Maybe it's a kinky sex thing that I don't understand.

Either way, I know that I made fun of my sister a lot in school, and I know that we are as far apart socially as two people could be, but she's still my sister. She takes care of my Grandpa and when my marriage took a nosedive, she was the first person to offer any help she could. I talk a lot about being a better person, but my sister is doing it. She's a single mother of three awesome kids, she's going to school to better herself and she puts up with a lot more than I do. I should be lucky to end up like her.

Here's to you Fatima Fartinez.

Also, here's a song for you.

Naughty By Nature- Hip Hop Hooray

Until later- be good.

I feel like crap.

2008-11-18T01:42:00.002-05:00

I'm sure I'll post more later, but for right now I feel like crap. I love you all.

What Can Brown Do for Me? Piss Off My Neighbors.

2008-11-14T15:31:00.004-05:00

Sometimes when I work and it's not so cold outside I leave the window beside my desk open to listen to my white trash neighbors. I've written about them before, but today's antics are the best so far.

When last we heard from my neighbors, there was only one- a crazy white trash guy who was stealing my power and water (let's call him Xanax Dude). At some point things got so dire that Xanax Dude needed a roommate (let's call him "Fucks Fifteen Year Olds Tony"). Fucks Fifteen Year Olds Tony seemed to be a good guy. I don't know if he does fuck 15 year olds, but he has that look about him.

I see Fucks Fifteen Year Olds Tony just about every day when I go for my midday walk. We have a short conversation about the weather or whatever else is going on, I say bye and being my walk while he goes inside to have sex with a 15 year old.

Today I spoke with him as usual, went on my walk and then came inside to write a little and go about my day. About an hour ago I heard a horn blowing. I live on a tiny one-lane road, and Xanax Dude's dogs run into the road and chase any car that comes along. They had decided to stand in the road and bark at a UPS truck. The UPS guy starts honking his horn to try and make the dogs move, but they being white trash dogs continue to stand their ground and bark. While it isn't Gary Cooper in High Noon, it had all the makings of a great standoff- would the UPS driver run them over? Would the dogs get tired and walk away? In lieu of having an actual hobby, I was riveted.

The UPS driver leans on his horn for a solid 10 second blast. The dogs continue. Another 10 seconds of horn, more dogs barking. Finally Fucks Fifteen Year Olds Tony comes out of the garage and begins telling the UPS dude to stop blowing the horn.

The driver, sounding every bit the nice guy tries to say that he doesn't want to hit the dogs with his truck and is trying to get them to move. Fucks Fifteen Year Olds Tony tells him not to do it again.

At this point there is about 20 feet between driver and white trash. I want to go make popcorn, but I don't want to miss what happens next. Fuck Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead, this is riveting theater.

The driver says he's sorry, and Tony comes back with "don't be sorry, just don't do it again". But before Tony can get out "again" there is a honk of the horn. Tony tries to speak again. The horn honks. Tony (visibly angry by this point) tries to make his point again. Another honk. Finally, Tony begins to swear and the driver just lays onto his horn. The driver drives the truck down the 30 yards left on my street all while honking the horn as Tony chases the truck. Just as Tony catches up to the truck the driver peels off towards the intersection, honking the horn still.

Hilarious.

It's minutes before 4 as I type this. I can still here Fucks Fifteen Year Olds Tony complaining about the "fucking faggot UPS driver". He's since called Xanax Dude and they say they are going to the UPS place to "kick his fucking ass".

I can't wait. This is better than any Scorsese film.

Until later, be good.

Project Fridays: It's Like Soul, Man.

2008-11-14T12:31:00.003-05:00

In an effort to both drive up the commenting here at So Much For Tact as well as to completely rip off two blogs that I love, The Driftwood Singers Present and I am Fuel-You are Friends, I will now be highlighting music that I love and that people should hear every Friday, weather and real life permitting. As a disclaimer for those with prying eyes, I am not a fan of illegally downloading music, so the songs I highlight will be songs from albums that I have bought and paid for and are to be downloaded for demonstration only. If any lawyer type wants me to take the song down, feel free to shoot me a line. So now I present to you these songs, the undiscovered ones, the recently discovered gems, and a few that should stay under the covers.

I've written in the past about The Isley Brothers and Ronnie Milsap here at So Much for Tact. In fact, one of the more awesome things I've ever done as a writer was to get to interview Ronnie Milsap. He was a sweet guy who told me his entire life story. Ronald Isley I'll probably never get to interview, but he's the same sort of badass that Milsap.

The interesting thing to me is that the music these men created, Country and Soul are today about as far apart from each other socially and culturally and yet they both seem to have so much in common. I'm willing to bet that the common denominator for both is Ray Charles.

Much has been written about Charles since his death and film about his life appeared a few years ago, but I never knew that Ray. I knew about the guy who was on "Who's the Boss" singing and was in Pepsi commercials with Cindy Crawford. Later on I heard songs and began to really understood his talent.

In a lot of ways, I think Ray Charles cut a swath across the musical field- black and white had to sit up and take notice. You had blind white kids from Robbinsville, NC and black guys from Cincinnati, OH learning from the same book. That is fucking amazing. Martin Luther King said and did some important things, but so did Ray Charles simply by opening his mouth and singing.

Listen to these songs and think about the turmoil of the times in which they were created. The world was a lot crazier and less diverse back then, and yet here are two guys who by today's musical standards should have nothing to do with each other, and yet they sound so much alike.

Can you imagine a country artist and a R &B artist sounding similar today? And yet we are supposedly a more diverse society. It makes me sad.

But there are tiny pockets of hope out there. Just yesterday, when I posted about Roy Clark, an old friend from high school named Dewan sent me a clip of Roy Clark singing a Platters song. Dewan gets it.

So enjoy this music, and just for the hell of it, here's two choice Ray Charles tunes also.

Ronnie Milsap- A Rose by Any Other Name

Ronnie Milsap- You and Me (Me and You)

The Isley Brothers- Don't Let Me Be Lonely Tonight

The isley Brothers- What it Comes Down To

Ray Charles- Feel So Bad

Ray Charles- All I Ever Need is You

Until later, be good. Also, check out Dewan's blog.

Roy Clark- Badass.

2008-11-13T12:26:00.002-05:00

Don't let this picture fool you. You are looking at one of the whitest white dudes ever. Roy "motherfuckin'" Clark (that isn't exactly his nickname, but it should be).

I go on and on about the vast superiority about the sound of black people's voices throughout my blog, but for a moment, let's talk about Roy Clark.

In the past, I've marveled at how awesome it is when a white dude sounds like a black guy. Roy Clark sounds nothing like a black guy and yet his voice is as sweet as a jar full of honey located on the small of that chick from "She's All That"'s back. That's sweet, people.

Picture walking through a field. You don't know who's field it is, but you are just cutting across to get to a friends house when up from the Corn jumps this gentile man and he tells you a joke. It's something out of a horror movie, and yet that's my main memory of Roy. Jumping up from the corn on Hee Haw.

But there's something about him that's awesome. He's got this sweet voice, and he sings these songs like he means them, so there is some validity in it.

But the amazing thing about Roy Clark and these songs are just the sounds that they make. Sure, there's guitar, bass, drums, some strings and Roy's voice, but combined they make this wonderful amber-colored sound that expands into some sort of open road in your head. It's gorgeous music.

Maybe this is my reckoning, some sort of coming to grips with my youth. I rejected my Grandfather's love of this era of country music. As I grew older I stayed away from it also, instead favoring the Jack Daniels-stained cool of Outlaw Country. But now, in my ever growing search to hear the perfect pop song, I've finally embraced Roy.

This isn't country music, this is just life music. Roy Clark is awesome. There's something beautiful and vital about these songs, and I'll stand on Waylon Jennings' table and tell him that.

Roy Clark- I Never Picked Cotton

Roy Clark- Simple Thing as Love

Roy Clark- Tips of My Fingers

Until later, be good.

Also

2008-11-13T01:00:00.001-05:00

I wrote a preview of a Mates of State show for the LEO in Lou uh vuhl Kentucky.

The new sound is all bittersweet indie-pop with a ’60s sheen that makes the medicine go down easy. Mates of State’s newfound musical muscle and lyrical flourishes between Hammel and wife Kori Gardner have led to a new label: cute. Hammel takes it in stride. “It’s like when your grandmother pinches your cheeks, ‘Aww, you’re so cute,’” he says. “I don’t know, I guess there’s worse things we could be called, but I’d love to be called ‘tough.’”

Go here for the article (you may have to scroll down).

Wearing it on their sleeves (and shirts)

2008-11-12T23:08:00.000-05:00

Sometimes I worry that I'm not being bold by loving The Gaslight Anthem as much as I do, but I can't help it.

There's something about these guys. I get a little bourbon in my belly and they rock hard enough all while bringing out that nostalgic and sweet part of me. Their music is beautiful and their lyrics might even be more beautiful.

What is it about rock n' roll, that when done correctly is the most important thing on the planet? The chords ring, the snare pops, and we all shout along to a chorus. It's like love, hate, fear, joy and release all in one.

So maybe they love Springsteen a little too much, but who doesn't. The fact of the matter is that these guys write great songs.

Yes, I'm shitfaced, and no it doesn't matter. Listen to The Gaslight Anthem tonight and tell me what you think.

Here are some acoustic sessions I found on the internets.

The Gaslight Anthem- The Backseat (acoustic)

The Gaslight Anthem- Here's Looking at You, Kid (acoustic)

Listen to them, and be good.

This is what I do for a living and I want to share it with all of you

2008-11-12T11:48:00.002-05:00

New articles this week, and I would like for you to read them.

First up is a review of a Kansas City power pop compilation reissue that I did for The Pitch in Kansas City.

After (and, some would argue, during) its 1978-81 heyday, Kansas City's Titan Records wasn't heard of much outside record-collector guides, but this sterling compilation makes a case for local music fans to stop and listen to some of the best guitar pop that will come out of the Midwest this year — even if some of it is 30 years too late.

Check that out here.

Also included in the same issue is a preview of the a show by one of my favorite new bands, The Gaslight Anthem.

The band has been building a reputation for breathless and sweaty live performances that straddle the line between the political anthems of Against Me and the romantic grandeur of Springsteen.

You can read that here.

Also in this latest LEO WeeklyI write about the goings-on in Lou-uh-vuhl this week.

Tennessee’s Black Diamond Heavies may be just what the doctor ordered. The duo’s minimalist approach to blues and rock is riotous and raucous in its execution.

The sound “is going to be stripped down because it’s the two of us; it’s a pretty primal sound,” drummer and Louisville native Van Campbell says. “We like it that way, because it’s pure and it hits people quickly. We get an immediate response from people, and that’s what we go for.”

Campbell and lead singer/organist John Wesley Myers combine the swing of a satanic Jon Spencer Blues Explosion, the sweaty shake of a church revival and an S&M-laden Misfits concert.

Check out that article here.

So read those. Or else you suck. I'll be back in a few with more stuff.

What's up with all the hang down?

2008-11-10T13:18:00.002-05:00

And now the inevitable qualifier: I'm a straight guy, but I'm not one of those straight guys who are afraid of other men. I can tell what makes certain men attractive and other men unattractive. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm comfortable with myself. I didn't recoil in horror when I saw Brokeback Mountain like some men I know might have.

I had a friend named Chad and we used to hang out just about every day. We would sit in the basement of his parents' house and play guitars. One day his father, Fred, called downstairs and told us that he had found a porno movie in the garbage of a house up the street and asked if we wanted to watch it.

Now I'm sure this sounds as I thought it was, so you can see why I decided to watch it with him. Why not, right? It was material to laugh about later. Chad and I went upstairs and made ourselves sandwiches and settled in for some creepy porno time with Fred.

We put the tape in and as the generic hair metal soundtrack started, something strange came across the screen: a soft focused shot of two men having rather energetic anal sex. Chad freaked out, saying something like "Holy shit", I laughed because of how awkward the situation had became. We both looked over at Fred and he had vomited in the floor.

The point of that story is that I have no problem with men or their bodies. I happen to be a man and I have a body, so I'm cool with everything.

With that being said, what's with the sudden deluge of penis sightings in mainstream movies? Last week Jessica and I rented "Forgetting Sarah Marshall" from the DVD place and there was a few penis shots in that movie. Then on Saturday we went to see "Zach and Miri Make a Porno" and there was Jason Mewes' penis for the world to see.

I have no problem with men showing off their penises on screen, in fact Harvey Keitel is one of my favorite actors. But still I wonder if this is because the only thing left to startle audiences is male full frontal? Or is it someone tearing down the wall and expecting men to show their stuff in films? Explain this to me, please.

Also, be good.

Tonight, Tomorrow and Why I Dig What I Do.

2008-11-10T00:30:00.002-05:00

Sure it's hard living in $35 increments, but within 2 hours tomorrow I'm interviewing Neil Halstead, Max Cavalera of Soulfly and Sepultura fame and trying to get in touch with Agnostic Front's people. How do I go from dreamy bedroom pop to super heavy metal to NYC Hardcore in that short of period of time?

I'm not sure, but for now I'm just listening to a little Clarence Carter.

Clarence Carter- I Can't See Myself

That title may be offensive or silly considering Carter is a blind man, but damn this is a good song. I want to drink bourbon and sit next to one of the horn players for his band. They'd hold those little punctuations and I'd just cry like a baby. It'd be beautiful and I'd be destroyed. But I know that as much as I feel this music, I know I'm not feeling it nearly as much as Clarence is.

Be good, Clarence.

A Quick Question

2008-11-10T00:00:00.002-05:00

By no means is this meant to sound insensitive (even though I'm sure someone will take it as that), but what's with being a parent?

I spent a lot of time today messing around on Facebook and I've noticed all of these people that I knew in my youth that are now parents and their profiles all say things like: "my child is the center of my world". What's up with that?

I'm not saying that parenting is dumb or the act of having children is hollow or without merit, but I don't understand people when they base their lives, their accomplishments or anything else on another person. It's a fruitless endeavor. That person will inevitably disappoint you, and then what?

One day, I hope to have children, and I'm sure it will be a pretty awesome thing, but at the same time I don't want that child to be my entire reason for living. I'd think that I'd be much for valuable to the child as a parent if I was doing something with my life to contribute to the world, and not just being a source of income.

Maybe I'm not explaining this well, but it is bothering me. There's more to life than what's between your legs and what comes out of there.

Once again, if any parents are reading this, I'm not disparaging or mocking what you do, I'm sure it's a selfless act to give up part of your life for someone else. But I just wonder when it goes from selfless act to all encompassing thing that takes over your life to a detriment.

Any answers out there?

Until I get some, be good.

My real education and cats.

2008-11-07T13:55:00.004-05:00

"We learned more from a three minute record baby, than we ever learned in school."- Bruce Springsteen

That's the most honest and true thing I've heard in a while. I've spent today listening to The Gaslight Anthem and Springsteen. There's something about them. I feel alive today. I feel pretty amazing listening to them. Rock n' roll never felt so good, so real, so tangible.

For a while now, I've wanted a dog. Just a dumb little friend who I can yell at and wrestle with. I think it is some sort of reaction to missing the cats I left behind when my marriage went the way of the DoDo Bird.

But today I realized how much I love my cat Spooky (or as I call her, Sweet Sassy Molassie). What a good cat.

That's all I've got for today. A Springsteen quote and a ode to my cat.

I'm off to eat at a Japanese Steakhouse and to get loaded on bourbon. I love you all, and be good.

Project Fridays: Making the Move

2008-11-06T23:41:00.004-05:00

In an effort to both drive up the commenting here at So Much For Tact as well as to completely rip off two blogs that I love, The Driftwood Singers Present and I am Fuel-You are Friends, I will now be highlighting music that I love and that people should hear every Friday, weather and real life permitting. As a disclaimer for those with prying eyes, I am not a fan of illegally downloading music, so the songs I highlight will be songs from albums that I have bought and paid for and are to be downloaded for demonstration only. If any lawyer type wants me to take the song down, feel free to shoot me a line. So now I present to you these songs, the undiscovered ones, the recently discovered gems, and a few that should stay under the covers.

I'm an awkward guy. There's a lot going on in my head, I've been told. I guess I don't realize it, because I've never really been in anyone else's head. Either way, I think a lot. Not too much, I hope- I wouldn't care to be one of those psychos who can't touch a doorknob without thinking about everyone else who has touched it or something like that.

So what I have rules about everything in life? So what I only eat two specific kinds of hot dogs and only like my toilet paper hung one way in the bathroom? It's that order that keeps me from being a chaotic person, and chaotic people (as we all know) are often perverts, child rapists or fiscal conservatives.

So when I was younger and dating regularly I had rules about dates. We'd go to movies if there was a solid report between us prior to the date. We'd go to dinner on the third date, but the first or second had to be something boring so that we could have a conversation. I wouldn't talk about myself that much because I realized that most women didn't really care about the guys they went out with. They wanted someone to make them feel safe and secure. Then they would sleep with the guy, provided enough alcohol was in the equation.

I never had any trouble with these parts of the courting process. The part I had trouble with was how to initiate all the stuff that moved the date beyond a simple two people hanging out and towards two people hanging out that just so happened to be naked together.

Sometimes I used a simple touch to an acceptable yet intimate part of the body, like the elbow, the back of the arm, or the small of the back. Sometimes it was a brush of the cheek against hers as we hugged goodnight. But it took so long to get there. But then I discovered Smokey.

I've written earlier about my discovery of soul music. But I haven't written about using this music. This is music designed to have sex to. I never realized that in my early twenties until one night on the parkway. Sitting in a girl's KIA Sportage I fiddled with her radio and found an oldies station. Smokey was playing. I believe the song was "Ooo Baby Baby". From that moment on, I knew that Smokey was a conduit for sex.

Years later I cemented this theory when I heard Smokey's "Quiet Storm" album. Every song on that album was about the penis entering the vagina. It's quite impressive. Here I am a bald white kid from North Carolina getting my inspiration for the most basic of human actions from a black man from Detroit.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not thinking of Smokey while I'm doing it or anything, but try to listen to these songs without wanting to pull someone closer, kiss them softly and do stuff that you can't see on cable with them.

Smokey Robinson- Baby That's Backatcha

Until later, be good. In bed.

For my lady.

2008-11-06T13:17:00.003-05:00

Steve Earle- Sparkle and Shine

Smarties and the Future.

2008-11-05T13:45:00.003-05:00

I'm at my desk at two o'clock in the pm, eastern standard time on November fifth two thousand and eight and I'm eating smarties candy. Life is good today. For the first time in a long time life is good.

I was drunk last night when I posted after Obama's victory. There was something so beautiful about it. Maybe it was just someone I'd rooted for, worked for and believed in being affirmed by a million people, or maybe it was that I looked at America shaking that heavy gray cloak of its past off of our collective shoulders and warming our face on the sun of tomorrow I'll never be sure. But the one thing I do know is that I love smarties candy.

Perhaps you, the reader are looking for some sort of allegory for my feelings about the Obama victory and the cute little discs of sugary sweet candy wrapped together like a roll of quarters. If you are, you'd be sadly mistaken.*

Mr. Obama's speech was a pretty wonderful moment. It wasn't all razzle-dazzle and rah-rah hysterics that people are used to in front of large crowds. Instead, it was a measured and calm "now we have to go to work" that he gave us. I'm glad for that. There will be a time when we can collectively let our hair down, but not today. Instead today we will move forward knowing that the toughest part of the journey is at hand.

I was reminded of Kennedy's speech to the Democratic National Convention in 1960 last night. It's a magical speech that speaks of America setting out for a new frontier. That's exactly where we are now. We are at a place where tomorrow is uncertain, but it looks brighter than yesterday. We are at a new frontier. The question is are we bold enough to strike out on that new path, to leave the known behind and to reach out into the unknown as a people?

Are we a nation of Chuck Yeagers? Are we a nation of John Glenns and Alan Shepards? This is no time to give up, and no time to be afraid. This is the time to look forward.

Now pass me some smarties and be good.

*In all honesty, there might be an allegory there, but I'm not sure. I imagine that one could look at us as a nation as a big multicolored tube of smarties candy, but that would imply that we are waiting to be devoured, which you could look at as either death coming to us, another nation trampling us or a superior ideal replacing America's ideal, but I'm not buying into that. So maybe there isn't an allegory. Maybe it's more of an aside or nonsequitor. Someone smarter than I can tell me for sure.

And now a word from our sponsors.

2008-11-05T10:43:00.002-05:00

Okay, So Much for Tact isn't sponsored, but let's hear a word from what puts food on my table- my freelance writing work.

In this week's Mountain Xpress I cover Jerry Douglas, the master of the dobro who plays not-quite-bluegrass.

“When I finished this record, I thought, ‘Oh, I’ve finally done a country record,’” Douglas says. “Then I started getting reviews back and everybody was telling me that it was all over the map. That’s not what I set out to do, but I guess that’s what I do. I thought it was cohesive, and viable. I knew this wasn’t a normal country record. It’s a country-funk-disco record, I guess. There’s no particular column that it fits in completely.”

You can read that article here.

I also cover King Tut, who are sort of a schizophrenic Asheville band.

Though King Tut is only a two-piece, together its players are more than the sum of their parts. The drumming and guitar strumming (a combo proven fruitful by the likes of The White Stripes, The Black Keys and The Trachtenburg Family Slideshow Players) combine with walls of repeating (and at times chaos-drenched) sounds. The effect is disorienting at first, but after a while it imparts a sense of drifting out to sea.

But instead of remaining pleasantly adrift, listeners are pummeled back to shore with every crash of Veres’ cymbals and shred of Boyd’s ax. In fact, Veres’ steady drumming is what keeps King Tut’s live show grounded. Boyd’s forays into guitar pyrotechnics may not scream Eddie Van Halen to purists, but the sharply played riffs and arpeggios help lead King Tut’s songs. This is, perhaps, most apparent on “When the Sun Goes Down,” the best example of the marriage between the sample-happy studio performers and their ear-destroying live act.

You can read that here.

In this week's Flagpole (Athens, GA's finest alt-weekly), I cover a couple of shows also. First up is an article on the Deaf Judges, who create some pretty awesome trailblazing hip hop.

But in the land of a thousand dances, and during a time when there are a million offshoots of every musical genre, the Deaf Judges shy away from being pigeonholed into one specific musical category.

“If it appeals to us, we like it. I’m not specific about genre, I like music. We don’t make Southern rap and we don’t make rock and roll, so we are caught in the middle. We’re an amalgam,” says Judge Fire.

That amalgamation is what keeps the band fresh. At any moment Deaf Judges can leap from the old school, almost call and response verses of “Space Cadet Setlist” to the syrupy slow “Snake Charmin’.” It’s that flexibility and willingness to move from sound to sound that makes listeners to Deaf Judges’ brand of hip-hop sit up and take notice. In fact, Judge Fear bristles at the notion of sounding like contemporary, Top 40 hip-hop.

You can read that here.

I also got a chance to interview Matthew Sweet, who turned out to be just as awkward, sweet and cool as I imagined.

“What I like about the new songs is that they remind me of sort of an Altered Beast time when I sort of had a pent-up thing. I sort of had a monster side to me, like a Jekyll/Hyde thing,” says Sweet.

But the “Hyde” side can’t stay out forever. These days, Sweet is away from the major-label machine that has chewed up and spit out artists time and time again. Now the already quiet and reserved performer is finding his inner peace not only with a guitar, but with clay.

“I’ve discovered [again] how much I like creating music. I don’t feel pressured. I started making pottery a few years ago, and I started thinking of my music as pottery; one guy in his house made this object, and it’s homemade. The more I think of it that way, the more it makes me happy,” says Sweet.

You can read that article here.

More later. Be good.

The New Frontier

2008-11-05T02:05:00.004-05:00

Jessica and I sat on the couch tonight watching the results pour in. I just don't know what to say. Part of me feels like that we were watching history happen. We were watching a nation lift itself up above the muck and the mire and take the reigns of its destiny again. It was a beautiful thing to see. Some out there who voted for the other guy may be a little broken hearted, and it's understandable. But I think John McCain was the last road block towards inevitability that this country had to overcome. We had to reject the politics of the past and look towards tomorrow.

This was our moment. This was our generations moment. We watched the Civil Rights movement come to an end. We watched a rejection of whatever bastardized strain of Reaganomics McCain and company was selling a nation. We watched us put the last 30 years to bed.

I felt that as I watched the television with Jessica. Our chests swelled with pride, and tears poured down our cheeks during Obama's speech.

Obama spoke of the world and the dangers out there, real and perceived, but he did it not with fear, but with a quiet knowledge that he doesn't need to scare people to get them on his side, nor does he need to ignore what's really happening in the world. He spoke of poor people. Not just of those who have, but the desperate, the marginalized and the lost, and each time something swelled up inside of me. I may be crass, may be horrible at times and a disagreeable lout, but I am still my brother's keeper. It's my responsibility to help those out who are without, who are lost, who are desperate. He spoke of the need to understand these problems and to address the most uncomfortable and ugly parts of America. He spoke with a leadership that I haven't seen in my lifetime. He spoke of an America that can be great again.

Mostly it was just a nice time to sit there and be proud again. Not just proud of this young and dynamic President-elect, not just proud of the people who volunteered for his campaign, but proud of myself for feeling compelled enough to work in two counties, proud of myself for letting my cynical heart believe in something and proud of Obama for having the balls to quote Sam Cooke in his speech.

Good show Barack. I mean, Mr. President-to be.

Until later, be good.

This has made my afternoon.

2008-11-04T16:00:00.000-05:00