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Michael Jackson Is Weird: So Fucking What?

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Michael Jackson's BadDear Ulric,

A beautiful thing happened to me this weekend and I thought of you. You’re one of the only people I know who will fully appreciate the magic…

With all the Michael Jackson bashing lately everywhere you look, and I’ll admit that he seems to make it pretty easy, I got to thinking about the music. And how everybody has all of a sudden accepted as fact that Off the Wall is a great album, and that Thriller was a real classic. “And it was all downhill from there,” the story goes, as MJ got weirder and weirder and the headlines started focusing on his skin color and his chimps rather than his music.

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Articles

Out of the Cradle, Endlessly Rocking

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It was Wordsworth, I seem to recall, who suggested that we all start out as radicals and end up as conservatives. This notion came to mind as a result of a comment that was made by GloNo‘s sab with regard to my piece on Hall & Oates. Actually, it was one phrase: “I’m not convinced.” Which led me to think about what it takes to actually convince someone about something as personal as music.

In the case of Wordworth’s observation, I think that what he was saying is that there is a tendency, when we are young, to be different than those who have gone before us. This difference manifests itself in a number of ways, from the clothes we wear to the books we read to the music that we listen to. In each of these cases (clothes, books, music), it is typically because there are new designers, new writers and new musicians that we have the opportunity to select new things. And so we do. Compared with what our elders wear, read and audit, this is seemingly “radical.” Just as what they had selected was perceived to be that in their earlier days.

What happens, of course, is that as time goes on, the “new” things that we have brought onto our own become dated. They are no less “radical” in and of themselves, but when they are considered in a wider context, a context that contains the works of new designers, writers and musicians, they become perceived to be conservative.

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Articles

Don’t Know Why – The 2003 Grammys

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The Glorious Noise compound was alive with laughter after the 45th Annual Grammy Awards concluded last Sunday night. Sure, this year’s show featured numerous artists who made the big decision to actually sing, which is a real milestone, since it happens so rarely anymore. And performances from Eminem, Kid Rock, Sheryl Crow, James Taylor, and Yo Yo Ma were entertaining for different reasons. But in the end, it was just another howler of an award show, and it deserves to be eviscerated. Yes, of course it’s an easy target. But so is MTV’s John Norris. And you don’t see Glorious Noise making fun of that corpse-like fancypants, do you?

What follows then is a quick rundown of this year’s show. Fred Durst is in aggreeance with Glorious Noise that it sucked, and Peace is cool, or something.

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Articles

Syd Straw, You Are My Queen

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Syd Straw’s Heartwreck Show

Mercury Lounge, New York, February 14, 2003

I didn’t know Syd Straw’s work or much about her when I went to see her Valentine’s Day Heartwreck show. All I knew was that she had a cool name, and has been around a while, and there’s some kind of credibility and hipness about her aura – you know how you pick all this up from the zeitgeist. But I was totally unilluminated about the actual talent and brilliance of Ms. Straw. Prepare to fall on your knees, as I did! (Figuratively. Actually I stood, painfully, for 4 1/2 hours.)

Syd walked onstage looking disguised, in a shapeless coat, brimmed hat and heavy glasses. She had a frail, scattered demeanor, like Elaine May’s in A New Leaf. I love Elaine May, but Syd Straw’s look was the kind of get-up that signals its wearer is a ‘character’ and ‘kooky,’ and it can be very tiring to watch someone be zany all night, as I recently found at a show by Tulip Sweet. Ms. Straw hoisted a drink and peered at the audience. “It’s Valentine’s, let’s all get really tipsy,” she suggested. “Syd, you’re such a freak,” a fan behind me kept saying in a proprietary voice, not filling me with confidence. But then Syd launched into a song. Her voice is dusky and strong and can go from a tender croon to a yearning wail in a heartbeat. She dropped all joking when she sang, committing herself body and soul to the music. And the song was great. Impressed and encouraged, I turned to my friend and nodded hopefully.

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Articles

Just Tragic: Rhode Island Great White Disaster

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Like a sick version of VH1’s Where Are They Now, AP is reporting that at least 39 people died [Update: 54 65 96 dead] last night after a fire broke out at a Great White concert in West Warwick, Rhode Island. The nightclub fire comes less than a week after 21 people were killed in a stampede towards the door of a dance club here in Chicago. This is absolutely horrible, not in the least because these deaths were entirely preventable.

Having spent more than my fair share of nights in overcrowded clubs with dubious emergency exit strategies, I consider myself damn lucky today. Waiting to file out of a bar next to someone with B.O. will never bother me again. I will probably start paying more attention to emergency exit signs. I might even think twice about sticking around at those shows where visual evidence tells me the club has doubled or tripled its occupancy limit.

That is, if the sorts of small clubs and locally promoted concerts I usually frequent are even around anymore. In the wake of these two awful incidents and the resultant media attention, it’s a safe bet that life as a small time club owner or concert promoter just got ugly. Insurance rates will go up. Code restrictions will be more aggressive. Enforcement will be taken more seriously. These are good things, obviously necessary steps. I just hope they don’t result in a whole slew of small venues being wiped out.

Articles

You’re No Rock and Roll Fun

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Sleater-Kinney

Majestic Theater, Detroit, February 19, 2003

Sleater-KinneyAs Sleater-Kinney has matured from riot-punk youth rebellion to being the shock troops for intelligent Pacific Northwest punk rock music, the larger media cognoscenti (i.e., geeks like Rolling Stone) have recognized not only their talent, but also the fact that they’re women. Including the band in its “Women Who Rock” article of a few months ago probably had a few RS editors patting themselves on their backs. Yay! I’m so hip! When in fact, the move reeked of concession – Sure, we’ll give you S-K. As long as Ashanti and Shakira do the covershoot in their undies. Evidently PJ Harvey, Bjork, Kelly Hogan, and Chan Marshall’s schedules were filled to the brim. But really ever since 2000’s All Hands on the Bad One, Sleater-Kinney has been on a collision course with this kind of widespread attention. And, ever true to their ideals, guitarists/vocalists Corin Tucker and Carrie Brownstein and drummer Janet Weiss haven’t let acclaim damage their agenda as a group confronting emotional, cultural, and political issues inside 3-minute blasts of punk rock.

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Articles

Louder Than Love: The Witches and EsQuire

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The Witches and EsQuire at the Lager House, Detroit

February 14, 2003

EsQuire There was something more than a little bit incongruous about the dilapidated hep of Detroit’s Lager House being swathed in pink ribbons and balloons for a ‘Valentine’s Day Eggstravaganza.’ It was like Bluto in a tutu. But if anyone can get away with such blatant disregard for street cred, it’s Detroit’s OTHER honkey rapper, EsQuire. Together with the Witches, EsQuire turned the Lager House into a beer-soaked love nest on Friday night.

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Rock and roll can change your life.