today was rainy, beautifully so, and i finally picked up the linda perhacs album from downtown music to celebrate. that store is so wonderful and cheery that i might become a regular - i always buy more than i mean to and never feel bad about it cause i know the album is going to be good. perhacs' voice is thin, reedy, over pure 70s smooth jazz bass and elegant fingerpicking - folk with a psych fringe and weirdo neo-country tendancies.
Month of March, 2002
am listening to the smashing pumpkins cover of 'never let me down again' and thinking how very much i love billy corgan's voice. kids i went to high school with complained that it was effete (though they would never use such a word) and emo (though the term wasn't invented then) - which it is. more than rites of spring, fugazi or any of those authentic punk guys, i imagine emo kids as closet sp fans, screaming sadness with their hush hush voice.
it's two am. i'm currently researching the creatures in attempt to know something for the five minutes of my siouxsie interview tomorrow -she's calling me! it seems so...normal. i wonder if someone dials the phone for her. in celebration, no, because i have to write about her three best albums, i bought three albums today - juju, kaledioscope, and hyaena - it will be a rare taste test this weekend.
watched two movies last night - the filth and the fury and nico icon - ahh, the music video nerd-out night. filth and the fury proved not as lousy as expected although splices of cheesy shakespeare films and embellished portraits of the late 70s england climate tainted the general truthfulness. enjoyed the bill grundy moments immensely - play by play with commentary after each uttered profanity. the whole thing seeks to paint malcolm mclaren as evil as possible, which he truly seems - like the runaways guy, only less perverse, more high-minded.
stole this book from work (actually, i'm going to pitch it to them so it's okay, right) about 'avant rock' with chapters dedicated to king crimson, jim o'rourke, sonic youth, glenn branca et al. strange sub-genre involved with the art/political reconfiguring of traditional idioms, cliches, for some hybrid expansive and meaningful but still gut wrenching experience. mostly decends into wankery, too many linear notes and fey attitudes towards volume (least abrasion be the point). interesting though the idea of transcending technique - thus defining it against 'art-damaged' punk like television.
tonight, tonight - saw panthers/the walkmen/the liars. panthers, hmm. whatever. the walkmen, as my dear blog reader(s) know, have been tickling my fancy for some time. they proved wholly mid-20s, not so witty onstage, frightfully self-assured from their BIG LONDON GIG only 30 hours earlier (it's amazing how that telegraph machine works, you can send messages anywhere!
the new issue of spin is fucking hilarious. true to rumor - big, horrifically ugly photographs and two of my shinnier fingers high of text. about six record reviews. andy greenwald is the worst music journalist i've read in a long time, all his metaphors trip on each other's feet. you'd think only the strokes and dashboard confessional mattered in the world. which actually may be true, but pah!