hott...my friend luke think's there's a brian chippendale look a like thing going on here in the dusty den of providence, and by the judging of the ridiculous loft shows full of functional, artistic and meagerly fed folks that constitute my anti-social sphere, i might be inclined to agree. this boy 'kites' that i saw on thursday def. goes there somewhere - he was strapped down with wires like a metallic scarecrow, screaming into his amp and dancing like a polecat in the jazz scene of funny face.
Month of September, 2003
here's more inane Radiohead machinery because as the Pink Floyd of our generation, they really do warrent endless stoned out pontification.
On Sunday, I saw Brown's magnificent organ. The cute, be-bowtied David Briggs played the requisite Bach and some nominally interesting romantic music, along w/ some Fantasia crap, before launching into a wonderful improvisation based on a really lame Ode To Brown that had been sealed up for 100 years. The sound was rather thin and rattled but still wonderful -- I love how the organ's sound billows like an invisible cloud through the room. The reedy melodies are just a tease for those big breath chords. Is there any way to hear the organ w/o sacred thoughts?
last night - the providence civic center, aka the stinky punk loft of many shows - had a great little thing with friends forever. stood outside in the cool evening with about sixty people watching these three play out of their vw bug van while lasers and pyrotechics poured out in to the sky. did i mention the bubble machine? the difference between a 'good' noise band and a 'bad' noise band is immediately obvious but hard to define. first word - tight- but then again, sloppy can be wonderful - je to chaos?
there's something terribly wrong and godforsaken about the new belle and sebastian album. it matches the worst parts of elephant 6 psych big band with overwrought twee and...later byrds' production. icck.
In the Sunday NY Times, John Leland
wrote, in the style section:
"The law, of course, will inevitably catch up. When rap acts started sampling James Brown records in the 1980's, complaints raged that they were violating copyrights and the principles of art. In a Bronx home studio in 1987, the producer Jazzy Jay described the law of the copy: "The laws on taking samples are, You take 'em until you get caught."
from Sunday 9/7
new kevin shields material from the sophia coppola film lost in translation. you're not sure until :17 that it is truly true. ahh, shugazer. how i used to (and still do) love.
finding that at grad school, liking of j. tim is a litmus of potential friendship. i am surrounded by authenticity obsessed old timey banjo heads, which is quickly becoming a good way to find out what i am not interested in about thinking about music. have been forbidden to use the phrase ' the music in itself ' which would infuriate those christgau anti-immersion types to no end. the difficulties unfold.