lock up your hats in someone’s eyes

Because I’ve been adding loads of songs to my new external drive recently, I’ve been listening to iTunes on my computer in shuffle mode quite a bit…and so it was that a couple of older songs came up which I hadn’t heard for a while, “The Boiling Boy” by Wire and “The Overload” by Talking Heads. Curiously, the two songs reminded me of one another…and as it turns out, they’re even in the same key.

So naturally, I thought it would be fun to crossbreed them. Of course, the original versions are in two rather different tempos, so I had to Strawberry Fields them together, slowing down “The Boiling Boy” and speeding up “The Overload.” The Talking Heads song took speeding up much better than the Wire song took slowing down, so I slowed it very little and sped up “The Overload” to match.

The next step was to figure out how to work them together. I ended up splitting “The Overload” into a series of instrumental sections, followed by a series of vocal sections – while “The Boiling Boy” was left largely intact. I figured I could simply repeat some of the instrumental sections under the long instrumental intro to the Wire track, and counterpoint Byrne’s vocals to Colin Newman’s. This didn’t quite work: first, one difference between 1988 (when the Wire song was recorded) and 1980 (the date of the Talking Heads song) is the pervasiveness of programmed rhythm tracks. Either that, or Robert Gotobed simply is a much steadier beatsmith than Chris Frantz. The result was that if I layered the two tracks without alteration (aside from the already mentioned tempo match), the beats on “The Overload” were constantly going out of whack. So into the manual quantizing machine I went, cutting up what were originally 8-bar phrases into shorter units, so as to keep the wayward Mr. Frantz in line with Wire’s machine rhythms. A few other tricks were involved, including making “glue” from a particular sample, and stretching and layering the opening ambient noise to make a less noisy bed during the vocal sections. (I also made a drone but ended up discarding it.)

The vocals were a huge pain. Unlike 1965, the eighties found producers neglecting to slam all the vocals into one channel and all the instruments in the other, and even messing with putting things out of phase didn’t do much to isolate the vocals from the surrounding instruments (that was, in fact, one intention behind the discarded drone – to mask those instruments dropping in and out). I ended up filtering Byrne’s vocals to eliminate most of the instruments…although, conveniently, when a guitar is audible at the beginning of phrases, they’re all in the second and third verses (of “The Boiling Boy”) so it works alright.

Didn’t turn out quite as good as I’d hoped…but here’s “Boy Boiling Over” by Mesh Skulls (arranged by Monkey Typing Pool, of course).

Earlier experiments along similar lines: flying in string parts from the Kronos Quartet arrangement of “Marquee Moon” to fit atop Television’s original; and in a fever dream, deciding that Neil Young’s “Soldier” made perfect sense stuck in the middle of the 4th untitled track from Labradford’s E Luxo So album (extended via manufactured drone). And of course, Segway Army’s “Are Higsons Electric?” – Robyn sings Numan.

Mesh Skulls “Boy Boiling Over” (2008)
Television/Kronos Quartet “Marquee Moon” (2004)
Labradford/Neil Young “E Luxo So 4/Soldier” (2002)
Segway Army “Are Higsons Electric?” (2007)

being Green

For no particular reason, “She’s Heaven” by Green popped into my head the other day, so I decided to post it. Green was originally from Chicago, but they played here often enough to be a sort of honorary local band – and in fact, at one point Milwaukee musician Mike Jarvis (from Root Cellar, the Blow Pops, and later the Lackloves) joined up as second guitarist. This one was a crowd favorite at the several shows of theirs I attended…generally involving numerous drunken folks attempting to yowl along with Jeff Lescher’s crazed high notes.

From the same album as “She’s Heaven,” here’s “My Sister Jane” – sort of a creepy little song, since the narrator’s interest in his cool sister edges a bit beyond brotherly.

Apparently some version of the band (which was always pretty much Lescher’s baby anyway) is still around, having recorded some new tracks last year and hoping to release them. (Or maybe they’re released and I just haven’t found them yet.)

Green “She’s Heaven” (White Soul, 1989)
Green “My Sister Jane” (White Soul, 1989)

pressed in the campaign journal in the rucksack of an Afrikaner candidate for mild reform

Occasionally, I will bestir my ass and actually attend a “publick eventory,” which I believe is the name given generally to concerts, colloquia, and large-scale demonstrations of industrial goods and the like, to which anyone who can buy a ticket is allowed admission. Last night, for example, I went to the Stephen Malkmus & the Jicks/John Vanderslice concert at the Pabst Theater.

I must state, though, that I appear to be violating an agreement by talking about this show at all. On the back of my ticket, in 3-point type, it is clearly stated that “The holder of this ticket is…subject to the terms and conditions set forth herein [and] acknowledges and agrees that…the holder is not allowed to transmit or aid in transmitting any information about the Event, including, but not limited to, any account, description, picture, video, audio, reproduction or other information concerning the Event (including pre and post Event activities)…” Damn – apparently by purchasing this ticket I also can’t talk about anything that happened before or after the Event, thereby erasing my entire life from the annals of our times.

Remember this, next time you think they’re all paranoid when they say that The Man is trying to shut us down.

Anyway: I’ve been a fan of Vanderslice’s music since his first solo album Mass Suicide Occult Figurines from 2000 (he previously released three albums in the latter half of the 1990s as main songwriter for the band MK Ultra), so I was pleased he was opening for Malkmus. Vanderslice took the stage with a small band, a keyboardist (who played the basslines and added vocal harmony as well) and a drummer (who, Vanderslice noted, also triggered various synthesizer effects on occasion). In recent interviews Vanderslice has spoken of shifting away from the acoustic backdrops forming the basis for most the songs on his last two albums, and so “White Dove,” for example, was rearranged with a much more percussive attack, featuring loud electric guitar. Still, his live arrangements last night gave prominent placement to keyboard textures, particularly an electric piano that was frequently treated with various echoes and signal-processing devices. He and his band gave a solid, if slightly tentative, series of performances (it was, he mentioned, only the second show of the tour). Everyone I’ve spoken to who’s met Vanderslice in person says the same thing: he’s one of the nicest people they’ve met. I wasn’t feeling sociable and so didn’t try to chat after the show, but his ease with the crowd demonstrated a sense of generosity, particularly in his last song, when he and his band clambered down into the pit area in front of the stage and performed acoustically, with his keyboardist on a button accordion of some type and his drummer carrying a single tom from his kit. And by “acoustically” I mean completely unmic’d – which is to say, we couldn’t really hear him from our seats. (It was general admission, but the Pabst’s rows are very narrow, and moving around was awkward, in that you’d basically be sticking yourself in other people’s faces to do so.)

After a brief intermission, Stephen Malkmus ambled onto stage, shortly followed by the Jicks – and after a few jokes and comments, the band launched into “Dragonfly Pie,” the opening track from Real Emotional Trash. Anyone who’s followed Malkmus’s career since Pavement’s end knows that Malkmus has become increasingly interested in long, somewhat ambling songs – but contrary to the usual description, he actually does very little “noodling” or “jamming.” The songs are tightly – if complexly and lengthily – structured, and when he does solo, he rarely takes more than eight or sixteen bars before moving on to the next section of the song. More importantly, his music now seems comfortably lived in: as brilliant as Pavement was, there was a certain distance to their material, and toward the end of their career it seemed as if the band was uncertain of its direction (unsurprising, given the band’s eventual breakup). Still, it’s true that the song structures are rather digressive. Luckily, he and the Jicks can play – especially drummer Janet Weiss (late of Sleater-Kinney and Quasi), who was impressive both in the background and when the songs gave her room to play out.

Between songs Malkmus dealt with the sometimes extended tuning times by bantering with the crowd and cracking jokes (such as bemoaning the fact the band isn’t wealthy enough to afford a guitar tech to tune guitars for them). About those long songs: as recorded they sometimes drag, at least to some listeners; live, that isn’t a problem. “Real Emotional Trash,” for example, is the longest song Malkmus has recorded so far – and live, it earned every minute of its various and extended sections, building to a ferocious climax led by Weiss’s pounding toms. My suggestion to folks who find his recent songs too long is to hear them played live – although Malkmus is clearly the leader and, obviously, the songwriter, this is truly a band – and one of the better ones of its kind I’ve heard (to name two apt comparisons, Television and the Soft Boys, in terms of dueling guitars). Another piece of testimony to Malkmus’s songwriting prowess: although going into the concert I felt I didn’t really know the new album that well, having only been able to listen to a handful of times, in fact I recognized most of the songs nearly as soon as they began, if not by title by sound.

Here are two songs not played last night: from a recording of a 2003 concert, a Vanderslice song from his first album, “Speed Lab” – and from Malkmus, a version of “Pencil Rot” from his previous album with the Jicks, Face the Truth:

John Vanderslice “Speed Lab” (Live at Cat’s Cradle 10/12/03)
Stephen Malkmus & the Jicks “Pencil Rot” live 2008

or maybe I just need new glasses

I would have thought the logic of CAPTCHAs is to have humans read text that bots can’t read…but not to practically solve an optical illusion puzzle. Here’s a CAPTCHA I ran into the other day – the second set of letters is, what…”Schulte”? “senmlte”? “scnlte”? I don’t even remember what I guessed now – I managed to get it right. Good thing you’re allowed to try again!

T&A

What, exactly, are people expecting to see? Turns out “Ashley Alexandra Dupre” (the bogus name adopted by Ashley Youmans), the woman implicated in the Eliot Spitzer case, has already done the typical “Girls Gone Wild” thing for professional asshole Joe Francis. Saves him a million bucks – his offer to Dupre to appear in one of his publications.

Which leaves me wondering: I really don’t understand the way so many people are fascinated by particular T&A. Dupre’s certainly not awful-looking…but neither is she exceptional. I see any number of women every day on campus who are as nice-looking as she is…though, presumably, less willing to remove their clothing for nearby cameras (not that I’ve tested that hypothesis). What exactly do people expect to find…that somehow these breasts, these lips, that ass, that pussy are going to reveal the mystery of what brought down a governor and putative future progressive leader? Fat chance – since someone like Spitzer clearly could have had anyone on offer, his choice of a call girl indicated that something about the whole call girl scenario appealed to him (rather similar to Hugh Grant’s situation some years back). I honestly don’t understand this tendency in some men – particularly when they already have considerable power. I suppose I’m supposed to add “and particularly when they’re already married to rather attractive women”…but I do understand the attraction to “other than.” I don’t understand the desire to pay for it. Spitzer may not have been a huge hunk – but he was personally compelling, powerful, and somewhat wealthy. It seems to me that men in that position typically have reasonably good odds persuading at least certain women that their bedrooms are appropriate destinations.

I almost think my confusion is the point: if Youmans/Dupre poses for nude pictures somewhere, and the general public can look at them and think, well, she’s alright but she’s not that fantastic, it allows them to think, huh, that guy’s not so extraordinary after all…if he could be driven to a fall by this rather ordinary example of female trade. It’s the very ordinariness that allows that vicarious sense of superiority.

thumbs down

What possessed Roundy’s (who own the dominant grocery store in the area, Pick’n’Save) to think that what will really sell crap to people is a besuited white guy with cult-of-personality issues, called “Chairman Bob,” and his retinue of sycophants (including, of course, a cute woman in a too-short skirt)? Is this some sort of half-assed takeoff on The Office (which would be a dumb idea…memo to Roundy’s HQ: Michael Scott is clearly meant to be seen as an idiot – with sympathetic qualities to be sure, but still, an idiot)? I mean, I know when I want to buy a bag of potato chips, I want to make sure that the chips compel some guy in a suit to stick his thumb in the air and bark “approved!” in a disturbingly Pavlovian manner. There’s a website (I’m not direct-linking it – but it’s Flash-heavy, and it’s at meetchairmanbob.com), which seems to be going for a sort of Get Smart vibe…but why?

I saw these suit-clad thumbs at Pick’n’Save a few weeks ago, and I was a bit nonplussed (I don’t watch TV, so if they’ve saturated the market with TV ads, I hadn’t seen them) and was vaguely curious why they thought this was a good idea…but seeing a print ad in a local magazine, and checking the website, convinced me someone’s spending way more money on this than they’re likely to generate.

More proof that marketers are way, way less intelligent than they think they are. I mean, Pick’n’Save already hugely dominates area grocery sales…their chief competitors (from below and above, respectively) will be Wal-Mart (once it rolls out grocery stores in the area) and, maybe, Sendik’s (which is expanding rapidly). I don’t think a guy in a suit is really appealing to either demographic. What’s the point? Whatever it is, I’m missing it. I don’t think there are very many people around here who aren’t aware of Pick’n’Save, and if they are but don’t shop there, I can’t see them deciding to do so on the basis of this ad campaign. One possibility, I suppose, is that the ads prominently mention the Roundy’s name – not Pick’n’Save – so it could be either that there are other Roundy’s-owned stores regionally less dominant than Pick’n’Save…or that Roundy’s is planning on phasing out the “Pick’n’Save” name in favor of “Roundy’s”…and is trying to move away from the midlevel discount feel of the Pick’n’Save brand.

BSG Actress Linked to Pornographers!!!

Uh, The New Pornographers, that is. Thanks to Don at Timedoor for pointing out this one: Nicki Clyne, Cally on Battlestar Galactica, played the lead singer in The New Pornographers’ video for “The Laws Have Changed.” (The video’s embedded at Timedoor.)

bonus points for ubergeeky opening clause

In the Buffyverse, demons and vampires generally shun Halloween as being a pathetic excuse for humans to lamely pretend to be all evil-like and to rehearse the most clichéd stereotypes about demons, monsters, etc.

So, uh, Happy St. Patrick’s Day. I hope no one thinks I’m too much of a monster if I stay home tonight, kick back, and enjoy a few rounds of online kitten poker. (I won’t argue with a beer or two, though.)

that’s about it

Of all my friends who blog, I wouldn’t have guessed I’d find incisive political commentary at Steve’s Hot Rox site – not because Steve’s not an incisive guy, but because he rarely addresses politics. But his entry today is exactly correct…and yet another example of how Hillary Clinton’s claims of press prejudice are overstated (especially considering the press has anointed her the presumptive Democratic candidate since the moment the absolutely not-at-all suspicious Ohio votes came in in the 2004 election): the race is not “close,” and if not for “superdelegates” and the obnoxious attempt by the Clinton team to count delegates from Florida and Michigan (rather like agreeing that a baseball game is canceled, then showing up and claiming a victory by forfeit) it wouldn’t be close at all.

I’ve got plenty of nothin’

1. What is the deal with guys wearing short pants in the middle of winter? February is not shorts season, guys. I mean, sorry: wearing shorts and no socks will not make spring arrive any sooner, nor does anyone believe pretending to be impervious to cold makes you an ultramacho dude. (Hint: shrinkage.)

2. Why do some DVDs, on some features, default to having the subtitles on – even when they’re already in English, and I haven’t turned on the subtitle feature? While I’m at it: look, if I’ve gone to the menu, and said that I want to hear the commentary to the movie by clicking on “commentary yes” or whatever, why should I have to click “play” again? Obviously, I’m not just deciding that at some future time I’d like to have the commentary play; I want to hear it now. So what’s with the pointless extra step? Dammit man – I’m busy, I’ve got things to do. No time to click another damned button!

3. Introducing: the meta-peanut. It occurs to me the description on the sign in this image (“Peanuts. (Contains peanuts)”) might actually refer to a breakthrough in genetic engineering whereby peanuts nest inside larger peanuts nested inside yet-larger peanuts, like a matryushka doll or a turducken. I don’t know, because I ran them through the grinder and made peanut butter out of ’em.