marc pietrzykowski

I am in the midst of building a shed for the garbage cans that sit on the side of the house, because I am tired of listening to them cry when it rains. A hint for anyone endeavoring to undertake such a project: ignore eHow.com, their “plan” for building a shed is to “follow manufacturer instructions.” Why bother?

185) Lucinda Williams: Sweet Old World

Not as uniformly great as Car Wheel On A Gravel Road, but still has some fine songs on it: “Six Blocks Away,” “Something About What Happens When We Talk,” “Lines Around Your Eyes.” Sorry about Frank.

186) Toots and the Maytals: Time Tough

I saw Toots at this grotesque festival in Atlanta called Music Midtown , they played for about 20 minutes and were hustled off the stage so Maroon 5 could play for 20 minutes, etc etc. Last time I ever went to that particular beer puke extravaganza. Too bad, I’d seen some great stuff there in years prior: the McGarrigles (including young Martha Wainwright), Bloque, David Byrne, Willie Nelson, Blind Boys of Alabama, Violent Femmes, Mobb Deep, Beausoleil… and not for 20 minutes, the overcrowding of acts came in the last few years. Perhaps it’s time for an anti-palooza, where just one act plays for a really long time and nobody sells coozies.

186) eels: Blinking Lights

This has grown on me, at first the production hindered my ability to hear what was good in the songs; everything sounded too rigid, too much like aluminum. Now I can hear some really fine melodies, and even the lyrics are interesting and dour, the way I like’em.

187) Paco Peña: Flamenco puro “live”

Flamenco music makes me want to knife someone, in a good way. Knife somebody, because their great-grandfather killed my great-grandmother’s favorite dog, then drink brandy till sundown, playing cards with the one-eyed daughter of the building inspector. More abstractly, it fills me with a dangerous energy. O-I!

189) Beth Orton: Daybreaker

I have listened to this CD 25 or 30 times now, and I couldn’t tell you what any of the songs are about, or hum any of the melodies, but I still enjoy it. The sonic equivalent of those little exfoliating fish, the Garra Rufa, popular in Japan, I suppose.

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I downloaded an app to synchronize these blogs with my facebook page, but then realized I just didn’t care. I go on facebook once a week, maybe, and this blog is primarily a notebook, not a forum, so I’ll just leave it off. Facebook is too jammed with shite anyway, no need to add to the feed.

Almost done with the Benjamin Barber book (Consumed), and while I agree with most of the points he would like to make–citizens of the West are becoming increasingly childish, modern advertising techniques are clearly trying to keep adults infantile (addicted to instant gratification; unable to see, let alone desire, nuance in argument or entertainment; valorizing individual desires rather than public needs, etc.) , this is not a well-written  or particularly well-researched book. In fact, it’s not hard to see Consumed as an example of the kind of cultural artifact Barber critiques: a shoddily thrown-together product meant to satisfy a target market whose expectations for such artifacts has been lowered as they are provided increasingly artificial “choices,” like Mac or PC, Burger King/McDs/Wendy’s (and I agree with his premises!). Some of his suggestions for combating the infantilizing effects of modern marketing are worth considering, if also crappily written, and there are certainly more of them than in Doug Rushkoff’s equally muddy Life, Inc., but unfortunately both books are basically symptoms of what they seek to critique. Ah well, back to Rousseau.

181) Prefuse 73: One Word Extinguisher

Interesting glitchy techno, early millennial/Barcelona hipster vintage. CD cover includes thank you’s to “sincerity, the earth’s elements, love to…[various folks]” and then, mentions that recording took place at “… a shithole on a shit street in the A.T.L., bitch!” Boy I wish I hadn’t read the cover.

182) Modern Mandolin Quartet: Intermezzo

A collection of easily digestible classical morsels played by, yup, 4 mandolinists. Ok, 2 mandolin players, 1 mandocello, and 1 mandola. Interesting idea that got sucked through Windham Hill and turned into baby food.

183) Tool: Aenima

Another Windham Hill project–no, of course not, though there are some parallels. Both New Age music and Tool rely heavily on drones, and on modal harmony (often using Middle Eastern modes); both typically involve some kind of quasi-mystical pretense, frequently focused on individuality and person evolution; both are nice for playing on the loudspeakers at the mall food court. I think this is my favorite Tool CD, though I’ve only really listened to the first 3, and I sold the third one cause it was so dull.

184) Violent Femmes: New Times

Sure do like the Femmes, too bad they had such an acrimonious dissolution, and too bad Gano sold “Blister in the Sun” to Wendy’s. What an asshole.

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I’m just starting Benjamin Barber’s Consumed, the thesis seems to be that marketers, that modern capitalism itself, is increasingly turning adults childish so they can sell them a bunch of crap they don’t need. Well, maybe not that conspiratorially; the marketers are, of course, also getting more childish, more addicted to immediate gratification and dull, uncomplicated cultural objects: movies that are all about CGI, with some cardboard characters floating about, music that involves taking a puerile idea and masticating it into so much overproduced pap, video games that combine the worst aspects of the previous two genres… I tend to agree even before I’ve read the book, which usually means that I will disagree with a whole bunch of what Barber says along the way. I do think there are important distinctions to make between uncomplicated and simplistic, between childlike and childish, but I will save that until I’m done reading his book. In the meantime, Mark Slouka’s essay in the latest issue of Harper’s, Dehumanized, actually made me weep a bit as I read it on the front porch, soaking up the sun and a bit of brandy. “Rain does not follow the plow.” Nice.

178) Dick Dale: Better Shred Than Dead: The Dick Dale Anthology

Bought this at a flea market, and oddly enough, there are burned copies of the original CDs in the original CD packaging. Plays his guitar strung upside down, still tours at 72, “Misirlou.” ’Nuff said.

179) The Fleshtones: Do You Swing?

O Peter Zaremaba, ye of the asymmetrical hair and host of 120 Minutes, I would go see you perform if the Fleshtones ever came near WNY. Have you really been around since 1976? Too bad this is not your best CD. Not terrible, just a bit… exahusted.

180) Eek-a-mouse: Biddy Beng Beng

Yes, love the mouse. I do do dem, in fact. Been diddly bong bong, biddy bong bong, biddy beng. Plays Fat Smitty in New Jack Swing.

181) Bobby Vinton: Roses Are Red

Kind of short, a greatest hits thing I must have gotten at a gas station, but still: “Mr Lonely,” “Blue on Blue,” Blue Velvet,” “Traces”… I fell lonely just writing about his voice. I actually thought he had passed, but no, here he is, still touring at 74. I do hereby resolve never to whine about getting old–not that I really do, I’m quite enjoying it, in fact, but damn. Keep on.

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