Armageddon must be around the corner- I just got a MacBook Pro. Hey, my company wanted me to get a laptop (and footed the bill), so why not go for it? I'm making dick money, might as well get a perk.
Now I am truly a tethered 21st centruy boy- I got the 'droid phone, the desktop and the laptop. I might as well get one of those tracing collars for around my neck and the RFID chip embedded in my forehead.
Of course, with 2012 breathing down our necks, I'm rootin' for the apocalypse... when all these toys will be worth little but scrap metal.
5 more songs that were better then anything this pustule of a year brought. Interestingly enough, these songs put together form a pretty apropos statement:
It's obvious; black and white. We're getting nowhere fast... sitting still. So what!
Christmas is hell on earth, I know nothing worst
then being depressed and told to be happy.
The season of su-icide, I know why they died
Christmas reminds me I have nothing
I've got no girl there's only me
no friends or family, another Christmas alone
Got no food to eat, no ornaments or wreath
so I'll hang myself from the tree
Christmas is dark and wet, so I can't forget
Christmas reminds me I have nothing
this is the end of hope, I won't write a note
because it would be addressed to no one
I've got no girl there's only me
no friends or family, another Christmas alone
Got no food to eat, no ornaments or wreath
so I'll hang myself from the tree
Now I will say good-bye, no one will cry
Christmas goes on without me
My life is now complete, so I'll go to sleep
Forever and ever and ever...
I've got no girl there's only me
no friends or family, another Christmas alone
Got no food to eat, no ornaments or wreath
so I'll hang myself from the tree
The madcap laughed. But when did the laughter find no escape? The old parable about burning out before fading away found Syd Barrett with a foot in both camps. The legend lived on, ever brighter; but the man himself diminished. What could have been going through his mind? Bitterness at being pushed out of one of the biggest bands in the world? Or relief at becoming only a footnote?
We're all on thin ice, indeed.
Nobody knows where you are,
How near or how far.
Shine on you crazy diamond.
Pile on many more layers
And I'll be joining you there.
Shine on you crazy diamond.
And we'll bask in the shadow
Of yesterday's triumph,
And sail on the steel breeze.
Come on you boy child,
You winner and loser,
Come on you miner for truth and delusion, and shine!
I'm not quite sure I understand why Obama is increasing his "asshole quotient", especially as the Repugnikkkan candidates seem to be on a "can you top this heinous statement" tactic.
Unless of course, Obama is planning death camps for the extreme right wing!!!!!
These guys kick such major ass. I heartily recommend you listen to a fuck-ton of their stuff. Before you do- make sure you drink some Nyquil and take some cold pills. Chasing it back with a couple of shots of bourbon is cool too. A few bongloads couldn't hurt.
Then, play this shit real fucking loud.
"bought another copy of zoso, seeds were bustin' up the spine"
When i was a kid, me and some of my good friends started a band called Welfare Cheats. We couldn't really play at all (well, our guitar player could play), but the rest of us had no clue. Except we were punk fucking rock.
It was in response to reagan (back than of course, everything was). I was selling my hepatitis tainted blood (until they caught on) for beer money and stealing student funds from our school to buy more beer. Some of this beer was used to put out the fire in my engine when my ('68 Plymouth Fury) car blew up driving home from a Minutemen / Husker Du show during a snowstorm.
Our music can best be described as a bass, 2 guitars, and a broken down drum set all tuned to different keys (because we didn't know how to tune them) and noise that would make Sonic Youth vomit. Hey, Punk Fucking Rawk.
We never quite got any gigs, but our graffiti was in every club in NYC- from CBGB's to the Dive to the Peppermint Lounge to severe damage we did at Danceteria and an especially particularly heinous nite at Limelite- where we did things that I still can't admit in print to doing. We even got written up in various local rock newspapers.
I miss those guys- we did more with attitude and energy than any band ever- considering we never got any real gigs.
But, it did get some of us knee deep in females a few times and into alot of shows for free. It's too bad we were never able to get our shit together and do something - we certainly had some connections from our friends in local NYHC bands like ISM.
Maybe that's why I'm still chasing this stuff. I got a new band (Post Caterwaul Of Sound) in the works... and the direction of the band is definitely looking "old school"- (influences of the Ramones/Clash/Misfits/Dead Boys/Replacements/Johnny Thunders/Stooges, MC5) rather than the "shock hard rock" of my previous band. It will be nice to sing songs that I am not ashamed of the lyrics for.
But the day's still young... we'll see what happens.
I saw one moron has been camping with her tots since last week to be first on line to by a TV. If you have to live outside and involve your kids in this nonsense... perhaps you have other issues to address that are more important than a TV!
As The Nomad clan has bigger issues on what to spend our money on (for starters- food and our mortgage) struggling, the decision on what to buy is easy- NOTHING!!!!!!
Motherfucker had it right in 1964- and nothing's changed.
Chimes Of Freedom
Far between sundown’s finish an’ midnight’s broken toll
We ducked inside the doorway, thunder crashing
As majestic bells of bolts struck shadows in the sounds
Seeming to be the chimes of freedom flashing
Flashing for the warriors whose strength is not to fight
Flashing for the refugees on the unarmed road of flight
An’ for each an’ ev’ry underdog soldier in the night
An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing
In the city’s melted furnace, unexpectedly we watched
With faces hidden while the walls were tightening
As the echo of the wedding bells before the blowin’ rain
Dissolved into the bells of the lightning
Tolling for the rebel, tolling for the rake
Tolling for the luckless, the abandoned an’ forsaked
Tolling for the outcast, burnin’ constantly at stake
An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing
Through the mad mystic hammering of the wild ripping hail
The sky cracked its poems in naked wonder
That the clinging of the church bells blew far into the breeze
Leaving only bells of lightning and its thunder
Striking for the gentle, striking for the kind
Striking for the guardians and protectors of the mind
An’ the unpawned painter behind beyond his rightful time
An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing
Through the wild cathedral evening the rain unraveled tales
For the disrobed faceless forms of no position
Tolling for the tongues with no place to bring their thoughts
All down in taken-for-granted situations
Tolling for the deaf an’ blind, tolling for the mute
Tolling for the mistreated, mateless mother, the mistitled prostitute
For the misdemeanor outlaw, chased an’ cheated by pursuit
An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing
Even though a cloud’s white curtain in a far-off corner flashed
An’ the hypnotic splattered mist was slowly lifting
Electric light still struck like arrows, fired but for the ones
Condemned to drift or else be kept from drifting
Tolling for the searching ones, on their speechless, seeking trail
For the lonesome-hearted lovers with too personal a tale
An’ for each unharmful, gentle soul misplaced inside a jail
An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing
Starry-eyed an’ laughing as I recall when we were caught
Trapped by no track of hours for they hanged suspended
As we listened one last time an’ we watched with one last look
Spellbound an’ swallowed ’til the tolling ended
Tolling for the aching ones whose wounds cannot be nursed
For the countless confused, accused, misused, strung-out ones an’ worse
An’ for every hung-up person in the whole wide universe
An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing
"If there has to be a bloodbath, then let's get it over with." --Ronald Reagan (Governor of California), cited in the San Francisco Chronicle, early morning edition, May 15, 1969
"But when you talk about destruction, don't you know that you can count me out (in)" --John Lennon
"I don't want to belong to any club that will accept me as a member" --Groucho Marx
I've been bouncing back and forth occaisionally into the Occupy Wall Street foray over the past couple of months... most recently the other day. OWS is certainly my ballywick. Afterall, I'm a New Yorker, been burned by the economy, and struggling to keep up with payments on my bills. The bereft middle class... once "middle" middle class and not plummeting towards the bottom. Plus, my punk rock dissident background certainly makes me exhibit 1-A for this movement.
Except... I don't feel part of it. I don't know if it's the drum circles, my age or just the daily hassle of trying to keep the Nomad's heads above the rising red tide. Christ, I wanna see the redistribution of wealth (especially if it means I can get some). And I'm all for hanging the bankers and fuckers that have helped make this "too big too fail" scam a reality. But from what I am seeing at OWS, I do know this... about 40% of the folks down there are legit. The other 60% are assholes. Yeah, assholes. The types that are co-opting this movement by just being violent troublemakers. Scenesters, hipsters and douchebags. They'd be protesting free beer, clean air or whatever else they could.
I fully understand why the NYPD mobilized and got rid of the tents and generators. You've pretty much got a bunch of people who decided to move-in to a privately owned park permanently with no motivation for any sort of hygiene or public responsibility. And they spend the day making it hard for their working brethren to get back and forth to their cubicle hells. What if they moved across the street from YOUR house or job. Add to this NO ONE taking ownership or control and a whole lot of combustible dynamics (not the least of which were gallons of kerosene and gasoline for generators). Plus inherent violence (yeah- for real) and you've got the makings of an incendiary holocaust down there. Anarchy is a wonderful concept- until someone loses an eye.
I know in a lot of cities the police and "authorities" have been completely out of control, but here in New York, the City and the NYPD have shown remarkable restraint down at "Liberty Park". They are faced everyday with the lower elements deliberately provoking them into reactions. Mayor Bloomberg has been a great leader through this... showing maturity and consideration.
It's a shame that so many of the demonstrators fail to understand that (and refuse to emulate it).
Apropos of nothing persnaps, but the following toonage has been resonating a little close to home lately.
Some of the anger I have been feeling towards others has dissipated. My understanding of matters has calmed me down. Never forgive, never forget fer sure, but I'm trying to grow beyond the rancor.
Pulpy blood stained knuckles are cool when yer 18, when yer double that age... not so much.
I hit another birthday today. I've decided to take my age into my own hands and have deducted a few rings off the old tree trunk. I certainly feel a fuckload younger than my chronometer, so what the hell. Besides, anytime anyone guesses my age, they go about 10 years younger than I am. I figure this won't deter the grim reaper, but I've been playin' with the houses money since I was about 20 anyway.
A quick check finds me far in the red with regard to where my financial prospects were supposed to be. As my income has reduced by about 70% (thanks to the economy) over the past 2 years, the struggle to keep up the payments, etc is a neverending nightmare. Healthwise, I'm about as good as can be expected, given the lack of exercise I get lately. Lookswise- let's just move on. From the long haired moron of my youth to the shaved head misanthrope I've become. And I still have my music- the man can't take that away!
The important thing of course is family. After 20 plus years, Missus Nomad and I (the aughts version of Sid and Nancy/ Kurt and Courtney/ Keef and Anita) are still going semi strong- despite the usual speed bumps. Marriage ain't what I thought it would be, but we still love each other (at least I think we do). The kids are (thank the lord) healthy and good natured... and so far don't seem to be falling into the traps that so many stumble into (yours truly included).
I have been adament about not wanting any gifts from mi familia. I got everything I want already.
Nazz Jr is big time into Professional Wrestling (WWE for the most part). Being that he's 13, I am OK with that. What scares me is the amount of adults that take the shit seriously. Especially with regard to action figures. Nazz Jr shows me these websites that have fans putting thousands of dollars into collecting figures (and even doing movies with the figures).
Being a worldly kid, Nazz Jr has long known about the "scripted" nature (in other words...IT'S FAKE!!!) of wrestling and can laugh along with the storylines. He likes the guys that can both wrestle AND do promo's (ie talk) for the most part: CM Punk, Cody Rhodes (the new Dr. Doom version), Booker T and for nostalgia's sake, the ancient Rick Flair. He eschews the "conventional" ie John Cena and Alberto Del Rio (the latest manufactured "superstar".)
CM Punk (yeah- he's really into Punk and being straight edge) has been the most interesting character lately. He's been doing a shtick with a focus on calling out the bullshit around him (they call it the "reality era"), but it's now becoming the conspiracy era, with corporate shenanigans getting alot of play; and after a couple of months in the spotlite, his star is fading again.
But the guy we both really dig is Zack Ryder. Aside from being from our hometown, he's a total underground goofball (his character is sorta vacant brained Long Island trash). He's also propelled himself into the spotlite by naming himself "Internet Champion". By judicious use of great videos, Ryder has propelled the WWE into the social media age and become the "peoples champion".
Every Monday nite we're watching RAW on the tube...Once again, it's spending time with your kids that's the best thing of all.
So sayeth Fat Mike and NOFX.. and Yeah- I dig em. I like the NOFX song too. What's not to like about Bad Religion? Great lyrics. Anti-authority. Great chorus's. I love the harmonies. They're old and pissed, just like me. And I learn new words when I decipher their songs!!
They've got the punk rock cred (and that's not even taking account Greg Hetson's Circle Jerkdom and Brian Baker's Minor Threat service). When did How Could Hell Be Any Worse come out? 1938?
Besides, I took Princess Nomad to see 'em when she was 13 and she actually loved it. And Nazz Jr has been known to wear a Bad Religion shirt to middle school!
Nazz Junior and I attended the New York Comic Con and had a blast. It was packed to the gills with freaks and geeks and cosplayers. I'd say about 20% of the attendees were dressed up as anything from CM Punk (wresting icon worship at Comic Con?) to lots of Asian teens in various anime to the tried and true super heroes (heavy on Cap America and various X-Men). One guy was decked out as Professor Xavier - complete with wheelchair. I wasn't going to be the douche that asked Prof X if the wheelchair was for sizzle or part of his daily steak.
A blue chick and a frozen in carbonite space cowboy
The only goal for me was to get some contacts that would buy my old comic collection. Times are tough, and if I can get some dough for my old 1960's-70's Marvels, all the better.
The big downer was that many of the sessions were closed due to overcrowding at least an hour before the scheduled start. We missed all the cool zombie stuff. The Walking Dead preview, a premier of some movie called Zombie Apocalypse (with Ving Rhames) and The Avengers preview were all out of reach for us.
Mr. T and Hulk Hogan. Not.
However, we got totally stoked with The Marvel TV and Marvel Games previews. And Nazz Junior grokked on the Halo panel. They had the developers of the game talking about the new version (which basically is a higher tech reboot of the original game. And there was a woman on the panel!!!! Which got most of the fanboys very excited. The q & a for the Halo panel consisted mainly of guys asking the woman on the panel if she would be their prom date! OK- that didn't really happen.
Missus Nomad's favorite picture. A Yip from Sesame Street
Another amazing event was the Dragonball Z panel- which capped the evening. The panel consisted of three guys that did the voices of the cartoon, and they were greeted by several hundred devotees as if they had cured cancer. Even the panelists were shocked by the adulation. Then one of the old Dragon Ball Z cartoons (they've all been restored for hi-def) was shown and it was like watching the Rocky Horror Picture Show, witht he audience participating. My son looked at me and said "You have know idea what's going on, do you?". And I didn't.
And then of course, there was this. Archie meets Kiss. WTF? Is nothing sacred?
For me, the best part was spending the day with my kid. I hope he looks back on it in a couple of decades and smiles.
With the Occupy Wall Street movement spreading to other cities, the media is paying a modicum of attention. Unfortunately, peaceful demonstrations are not going to get anything accomplished. Now that some Unions are involved, hopefully there will be some long term organization and goals. Demonstrations at the Koch brothers and Rupert Murdoch's mansions are nice, but burning em down would be better.
However, what will really get the media involved will be violence. As abhorrent a concept it is, cracked skulls and riots will be what really starts the ball rolling.
Bloody violent revolution- telegenic and exploitative.
Walked past the Wall Street demonstrations again. Sound and fury symbolizing everything and accomplishing nothing. How about we all stop buying shit for a week from some companies? It's called boycotting. That's the only way the fuckers will ever notice... if it hits em in their bottom line.
We pay tribute to Steven Jobs by queuing en masse for the latest gadget. How about we pay tribute to "think different" by NOT buying shit for the week.
I've been listening to Against Me lately. Third or fourth or ninety seventh generation punks that wear their hearts on their sleeves. Anthemic ringing guitars and earnest lyrics.
"What kind of face is that?"; Missus Nomad said to me yesterday over dinner. "Umm, my normal face?" I answered. Then in the middle of the night, she woke up and looked at me and screamed.
Hey honey, get used to this mug, you've had 20 plus years to accept it and I ain't going nowhere.
Wilco has a new album out and I am as ambivalent to them as always. I gave the lp a couple of spins on Spotify and immediately forgot every song. I do like that Jeff Tweedy and his band have been able to fashion a semi lucrative career and also become darlin's of the NPR crowd. They seem to be one of those bands that I'm supposed to like, but they just bore the shit out of me. My big Wilco experience seeing em live was drinking myself into oblivion and staggering out of their show a few years back. Blind drunken stumbling seemed like a better choice than standing and watching em.
I wouldn't put them in the same slot as a band like Pavement. I really hate Pavement. In fact, if one of the guys from Pavement came up to clean my windshield, I'd put my car into drive and run em over.
Jeff Tweedy on the other hand, I'd ask him to jump in on the passenger side and we'd go for a beer. He seems like a really cool guy. As long as don't have to listen to his band.
Maybe there's something wrong with me (and not just my face).
Wilco has "curated" a "YouTube channel" with some of their favorite other bands and I prefer 90% of the stuff on it over Wilco's own stuff.
Here's my favorite Wilco song. It's Closer To Fine, by The Indigo Girls and has nothing to do with Wilco. I'm pretty sure Amy Ray would kick Jeff Tweedy's ass.
Actually- I like this Wilco song alot. Probably because my friend John used to play it on his acoustic guitar and I always thought it was his song. And it's about being a fuck-up. And I bet the character in the song got asked alot about his face too.
My buddy Davey sent me the above graphic. I can dig it. I used to start out on my escapades at around 11 pm... nowadays I can't motivate myself to do much of anything.
Except of course to gloat over the demise of the Boston Red Sox! Last nite was one of the most incredible juxtapositions of baseball craziness ever. Between the Sawx going down the crapper and the player with the worst batting average in baseball hitting a home run to keep his team alive with 2 outs and 2 strikes in the bottom of the ninth, it was truly an unforgettable evening! First time I ever rooted against my baseball team!!!! Nazz junior is a Red Sox fan (despite the beatings I have given him) and he stoically dealt with the carnage. If it was the Yankees, I woulda punched holes in my wall.
As I was wandering around lower Manhattan, trying to squeeze blood out of a stone, I walked past a demonstration (or protest or circle jerk or whattever ya wanna call it). There were several hundred people protesting... well, they were protesting EVERYTHING! You had dozens of signs, against everything from Jesus being on the Internet to the economy to the Government to the IMF, etc, etc, etc. The only thing everyone had in common was that they all were able to have the time to spend the day pissing into the wind.
As I walked by with my uniform (briefcase and suit), I thought about how it would be wonderful to have the hope and free time to protest against (insert your cause here). Unfortunately, my mortgage and increasing bills do not allow for the luxury of having the time to advocate (insert your cause here). I'm not proud of that, but I made my choices many years ago and that's my fate. I'm pretty sure most of the people protesting have a lot more financially than I do, and I know that to them, I must represent the opposition.
Conversely, as much as I advocate free speech and protest, I know that it was futile what they were all doing. Nothing is going to change, and even the cops looked bored. Obama was the great hope, and guess what, it hasn't worked out so well.
A block away, the construction site where they are building the replacements for the World Trade Center was humming, with tourists gaping at the pit and the glass and steel towers being erected. As I watched for awhile, I felt nothing but sadness and pessimism.Build em up, knock em down, it's just a cash exchange when you get down to it.
I sort of felt like the people in this video must have felt (it's security camera footage of inside the Washington Monument when the earthquake hit last month.
On my way back uptown, there was a bum (or- for the politically correct, a homeless person) smoking a cigarette on the subway platform. For a second, I glared at him- after all, in Bloomberg's NYC, smoking is verboten. Then I thought how this was probably the only peace he's got, smoking a butt and not being hassled. I was ashamed of myself for being a douchebag.
I have this very strange feeling that we are on the cusp of some very serious weirdness. The economy is totally tanking, Europe is about to declare continental bankruptcy and it's all up to Germany to bail us out.
Meanwhile here in the States, there are assorted lunatics running for the Repugnikkkan nomination for President. Watching their debates is like looking through a one way mirror into an insane asylum. And the current POTUS is begging his core voters for support.
And the market did a major dive last week, as demonstrators were beaten and tear-gassed. Granted, alot of em probably started shit with the cops, but still...
The stock market tends to go into major nose dives in October... 5 days and counting.
I was at a big time industry dinner awards event at a real fancy NYC venue last night. ... 350 of the big boys in my chosen vocation... real big boys...owners of billion dollar companies, execs , pillars of the industry. Fancy finger foods, open bar, expensive suits.
And me.
My suit costs less than most of these fuckers hankies.
En Why See Police commisioner Ray Kelly was the honoree. He spoke about being vigilant in the post 9/11 era. Whoever wrote his speech did a fine job. Then he left for a date with Obama...who's in town for the United Nations clusterfuck/circlejerk.
So in my old poor age I find myself at an event wearing a cheap black suit paying homage to the chief of nyc cops (and I want to state that he does a motherfucking great job- and has saved our sorry liberal asses many many times over the last ten years), making small talk with a bunch of wealthy upper class people that wouldn't be able to name a Black Flag tune if they had a gun pointed at them. Don't get me wrong...everyone was very nice and pleasent.
People usually are when they are looking down at you.
If someone woulda told me 20 years ago that I would be on the legal side of the law, making small talk at an event honoring "THE MAN", I woulda either hung myself or told the guy he was crazy. But there I was, holding a Ketel One in one hand and a plate of fancy finger food in the other.
At least the booze was free.
All reminding me of a day a few years back in which I was the honoree of an award. I had to give a speech, and I was really nervous. Mrs. Nomad advised me to eat a Xanax, which would calm me down. So of course I ate two of them. They kicked in about a half hour before my speech. I remember nothing of the events that transpired, with the exception of a bright red L.E.D. light that was blinking on the podium.
Old Nazz has got some book recommendations for you. Hey- reading is fun-da-mental! Or something.
Last One To Die - Michael Essington: Mike E. is an old time West Coast (L.A.) punk and has written his "memoirs". Equal parts observations on family, the scene and his history in the maelstrom of el lay Punk, Mike's writing is thoughtful and even poignant. You come out of reading this book with the desire to know the guy personally. If only the East Coast and Left Coast woulda merged... I coulda called him friend. And you should be checking out his stuff on STRANGE REACTION too! Great articles on Punk and great stories about his past. Support your peers, ya scurvy dogs!
Speed-Speed-Speedfreak - Mick Farren: Of course you know who Mick Farren is. The guy has written more cool stuff than just about anyone this side of Terry Southern. Speed-Speed-Speedfreak is billed as a "Fast History Of The Amphetamine"; and it ties in Hitler, the military, JFK and the Hells Angels in telling the sordid and not so sordid history of Mother's Little Helper. Some of it veers into conspiracy history (but that's not unusual for Farren), but it's a fast paced treatise on a drug that has greatly influenced both cultural and political history. As a bonus, the book is shaped like a capsule! Click here for Mick Farren's website.
Violence Girl - Alice Bag: In which Alice Bag, the former lead singer of seminal L.A. punk band The Bags dishes on her somewhat troubled upbringing and the early days of the Los Angeles punk scene. Alice interacted with virtually every member of the early scene (Darby Crash, Belinda Carlisle, etc) and her experiences make for a fun read. While this book touches on some sloppy behavior (ie drugs, booze, etc) it isn't really an expose of the West Coast scene.
I had the opportunity to spend the last few days in Reno Nevada for a business conference. For this Noo Yawk boy, the chance to breathe some clean air, win some money at the casino, dig some nature and drink my ass off was irresistible.
(I did not meet any of these guys)
Well, the air out there sucks, I lost every bet I made and I didn't have the chance do any communing with Mom Nature. At least I was able to drink.
I had to stop to change planes in Salt Lake City (home, of course, to the Utah Jazz- why didn't they change the name of the team when they moved to Utah?). I expected the airport to be crawling with Mormon's, wide-eyed and smiling. Yeah- I did experience that, but there were plenty of international travelers. I was able to imbibe at Dick Clark's American Bandstand restaurant. Dick wasn't there... but Wasatch Amber Ale was. Tasty stuff, and the by the time I was gonna hit my flight to Reno, I was ready to go look for the Book Of Mormon myself. Flying over the Rockies and the Great Salt lake was breathtaking, and seeing the Salt Flats from the aircraft was beautiful. There is a part of the Salt Lake that appears to be red from the sky... I figured it was mining waste run-off from a copper mine. Instead it was a result of bacteria in the water. Weird stuff.
The Great Salt Lake and the Salt Shore (that's not sand)
The view from 20,000 feet.
I lit out of the Reno airport, and the combination of being in thin air 6000 feet above sea level and fresh air coursing into my urban lungs almost put me on my ass. Somehow I survived, but I felt shortwinded the entire weekend. Additionally, as 95% of my time was spent indoors, the filtered air, heavily processed with cigareete smoke (everyone in the casino smokes and it permeates even the conference rooms) had me dizzy and coughing the whole weekend.
Part of the pool- Alot of kids- Who brings kids to a casino?
Gambling? Everywhere- at the airport there are slots, and the hotel we stayed at (The Peppermill is sorta 1/2 Caesers Palace and the other half looks like a gypsy wedding joint) is just ugly with 'em. And the people gambling? A real cross section of Americana- Bush country. Toothless, old Bush country to be exact.
I had real trouble with my room key- over the course of my first nite, the door kept refusing me entrance. I drunkenly huffed and puffed back to the front desk three different times (the hotel was huge and I was in the furhtest wing). Finally they changed my room- and upgraded me to a suite with a Jacuzzi- a sweet suite... And yes, I did use the Jacuzzi... but only after personally cleaning it to make sure that it was "love stain" fee from any other previous guests!
They gave me $10 free slot credit and I milked it over the weekend on 25 cent video poker- and grabbed every waitress possible for the gratis drinks (they'll keep bringing the booze if you keep at the machines or tables- so if you are smart about it, a pint of Guinness or Sierra Nevada ends up costing you only whatever you tip the waitresses). The casino's are built to keep you slightly off kilter and clueless of the time. There are no clocks or windows, the oxygen they pump in is to keep you awake, while the drinks are designed to keep you loose. The design of the place is all bells, whistles, lights and mirrors, to keep the excitement going.
A candid shot of a small part of the casino- if you take pix in a casino you could actually GET shot!
Over the weekend I was somewhat smart in my gambling, until I got stupid. I hit the craps table and the craps table hit me back. I was about even, and then dropped $40 on one bet- which was alot for me. The guy rolled a four and I bet against him rolling another one- so of course he rolled another four. Between that and a quick $20 dropped in BlackJack (the saving graces was the 3 Grey Gooses I was served), I had enuff of the gambling pretty quickly. Then I dropped $30 on some NFL picks ... they were parlays where you pick 4 games and win $130 for a $10 bet- I lost every game I picked!!!!!
So I decided to concentrate on business and drinking... because drinking is my business.
"Glow"
The coolest thing I did was attend the Great Reno Balloon Race and "glow" event. This was amazing. You get there at 4:30 am (I just kept drinking thru the nite because there was no way I was going to wake up - besides: how do you avoid hangovers? You stay drunk!) and there are thousands of people watching close to 80 hot air balloons. While it's still nite time, 6 balloons were deployed and the gases were fired up to make them glow. The sunrise coming over the mountains was spectacular. I had brought a bottle of Champagne (the good stuff- Andres) and popped it open to greet the dawning of a new day. Once it was light they raised all the balloons. You could walk right up to them. There was an enormous Darth Vader balloon that had trouble for awhile staying afloat- I guess the Dark Side doesn't play well with helium!
It is balloooooons!
This was the morning of September 11, and there were moments of silence for the murders of 10 years ago. One moment each for every tower attack, Pentagon attack, Shanksville PA plane downing and one each for the towers falling. Very emotional. As a NY'er, I represented with my Mets cap. The Governor of Nevada gave a speech, which was too long and was poorly read. He shoulda spoken "off the cuff".
Than the weirdest thing happened. There was a "missing man formation" flyover- that's when one plane veers off in another direction to represent those that were killed in combat. A minute later, a bunch of ducks flew over in the same formation and one veered off!!!!!
There was a "Pirate Club Crawl" in downtown Reno Saturday nite- lots of wasted teenagers and folks dressed up in Pirate garb. We grabbed some cloth hankies from a restaurant we dined at and pirated ourselves out.
I also met some very cool people. One of which was a guy working security. He was 20 years old, a former Army Ranger and he was all sorts of physically and mentally fucked up from 18 months over in Afghanistan. He got his discharge and Purple Heart from getting shot. What a cool guy, and at 20, he was already screwed. He walked really poorly, he was partially deaf due to concussion blasts and his memory was gone. And the fucking Government owed him $60,0000 on the GI bill and was not forking the money over.
So very sad.
And of course the other highlite was meeting this guy:
No, not Dean Martin... the amazing Jon from Poetry Is For Assholes. He drove 4 hours over mountains just to hang with lil old me for a spell. A way cool dude, impeccable music taste and an awesome blog- which you should be reading.
And it’s time for a record round up. All of the following are heartily recommended, and if you can’t trust your old pal Nazz, then all hope is lost!
The New Rochelles: “It’s New” - The second or third or fifteenth coming of the Ramones. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. 12 songs in 14 minutes. They cop every important aspect of Duh Brudders (same surnames, snappy toonage, whacked out song subjects) without the annoying stuff (oh wait a minute, there is no annoying stuff when it comes to The Ramones !!!!!). Fuckin’ A!
M.O.T.O:Pack Your Troubles In Dreams - Thanks to Brushback at “One Base On An Overthrow for reminding me how good this band is. 30 year vets of the lo-fi garage-punk scene. Funnier than a hemorrhage and the songs stick to you like ebola. Or something. Pick hits: “Satan Always Calls Collect”, “Radio Wall of Phlegm” and “Dance Dance Dance Dance To The Radio”.
The Okmoniks – Party Fever!!! – Cheesy keyboards, hot chick singing. Pure pop for now people. Kinda like the Mummies mate with The Muffs; but not really. Especially since there's only one girl in The Muffs, besides, how would that work... I mean with The Mummies wrappings and everything? Extra points because I think they named their band after the neighbors in ALF.
Flip City – Demo’s: Elvis Costello’s band when he was still Joey Goldstein (or whatever his real name is.) Sorta like Springsteen, if the boss had no delusions of grandeur and was born in the UK. Interesting to listen to as it has early versions of “Radio Radio” (“Radio Soul”) and “Living In Paradise”
No one is united
all things are untied
perhaps we're boiling over inside
they've been telling lieeees who's been telling lieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeesss?
there are no angels there are devils in many waaaaaaaaaaays
take it like a maaaaaan
the world's a mess it's
in my kiss
you can't take it back
pull it out of the fire
pull it ouuuuut
in the bottom of the ninth
pull it ouuuuut in chords of red-disease
drag on
the system
drag on my head and body
there are some facts here
that
refuse to escape i could say it stronger but it's too much trouble
i was
wondering down at the briiiiickkkks hectic, isn't it?
down we go craaaaaaaaaddddddddddddddle
(cue Billy Zoom!)
No one is united
all things are untied
perhaps we're boiling over inside
they've been telling lieeeees
who's been telling lieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeseeeeesssssss? there are no angels
there are devils in many waaaaaaaaays take it like a man
the world's a mess it's
in my kiiiissssssssssss
and
all the world's a mess it's in my kiss
go to hell, see if you like it
then come home with me
tomorrow night may be too late
both moons are
full
dirty night dying like a lovely wife
goodbye my darling how high
the moon well i wish i was
(I've been playing alot of X on my bass guitar lately).
Shwag: The t-shirt in the picture with the lyrics can be found at X's on-line store: (click here)
ps- This song is much better without the Ray Manzarek wankery on keyboard coda
I will not be in New York for the 10 year "tribute" next weekend. It's actually already started, as the local media is tired of reporting about the hurricane damage and the economy crisis is oh so boring and played out. I've seen "America's Mayor" (ie Giuliani) already weighing in. I guess no one remembers that at the time of the attack, the fascist motherfucker only had 2 months left in his largely failed administration... and if it wasn't for the attacks, he's be remembered as a tremendous asshole, and not some sort of (cough, hack, puke) "leader".
And Bush? And his recollections of shitting the bed that day? No thanks.
Prepare to be inundated with analysis of our "lost innocence" and how it was the day everything "changed". Being a New Yorker, I know all too well about the atrocities perpetuated by those monstrous murdering bastards with box-cutters and the damage they caused. And I am sure that you do too.
I really don't need 24/7 media coverage exploiting it and I am sure the rest of you don't either.
Having a couple of pints with my pal Veronica Moser the other day and the following came up:
Upon listening to the bar playing the Lou Reed album Transformer, I commented with regard to what a truly pussy, weak-ass non rock album it is. Although it was heavily influenced by David Bowie, Reed should not have been pandering to the Brechtian school of non- r n r (what was the harbinger of his Berlin period). I also commented that I would prefer they had put on Metal Machine Music- which at least was obnoxiously punk. Mr. Moser commented that I hate art and that it was all about The Ramones as far as I was concerned.
Well... d-uh!
As we were in this downtown en whycee tavern, we started chatting with a gal who with-in 15 minutes name dropped that she personally knew every bo-ho/hipster influence of the last 40 years (the most reverent Saints Thompson, Ginsberg, Ramone, et al; along with such lesser lights as Patti Smith). Which was all well and good, until she related a story of attending a performance of David Byrne. She apparently had to leave the show early, and the next time she ran into Mr. Talking Head, he asked why she bailed.
I suggested that if it was me, I would have politely explained to Mr. Byrne that it was my belief that he had done everything in his power to kill rock n roll with his assorted forays into what I would consider unlistenable crap (everything past Fear Of Music)and that if I hadn't left I would have been compelled to decapitate him.
This did not go over so well.
I've been listening to John Cale as of late. His Sabotage/Live lp (recorded at CBGB's in 1979) proved that the elder race of man could still rip the shit out of the music. And more than 20 years later, he was still shredding with the Circus Live collection.
Yeah, I know- he's "artsy". And into classical music. And the avant garde.
Fuck it.
Well, at least the 2 main guys. Captain Sensible and Dave Vanian (along with some more than capable aiders and abetters) will be tourin' and playing DAMNED DAMNED DAMNED and THE BLACK ALBUM this fall. That's an interesting juxtaposition. Primal Punk and perhaps the first punk foray into Goth/Psychedelica in tandem.
Bitchin'.
The Damned 35th Anniversary Tour
Oct
20th - US - Cambridge, MA, Middle East
22nd - US - New York,NY, Irving Plaza
23rd - US - Washington DC, Black Cat
25th - US - Chicago,IL, Metro/Smart Bar
27th - US - Seattle, WA, Showbox at The Market
29th - US - San Francisco, CA, Slim's
30th - US - Los Angeles, CA, House Of Blues
31st - US - Anaheim, CA, House Of Blues
Nov
1st - US - San Diego, CA, House Of Blues
4/5/6 - Fun Fun Fun Fest, Austin, Texas - exact date and time TBA Sep 1st
Nov
9th - Bristol, O2 Academy
10th - Birmingham,O2 Academy
11th - Cambridge, Corn Exchange
12th - London, Roundhouse
13th - Brighton, East Wing
14th - Norwich, UEA
15th - Nottingham, Rock City
17th - Newcastle, O2 Academy
18th - Leeds, O2 Academy
19th - Manchester, Academy
20th - Edinburgh, Picture House
All files posted on this site are for educational, testing and entertainment purposes only.If you like what you hear, please buy recordings, t-shirts, dvds and other merch from these bands. This is a non profit site and is here to give some publicity to deserving bands and artists. If you’re in a band whose music is found on this site and you want songs removed, please let me know. Songs and other media will be up for only a short time. After that, just like our hopes and dreams, they're gone.
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