Home Again

Traveling over the Bay Bridge on my trek back from Los Angeles, I felt the overwhelming comfort of being home. It was a feeling that surprised me, having only lived in San Francisco for a few months. Maybe it was because I finally landed a new job. I don't know. But, I do know that I couldn't wipe the smile off my face as I cut onto Fell Street to venture back to the flat.

Los Angeles certainly has its good points. If you're into beautiful people, there is certainly that. And, if you are into music, there are a lot of great venues (the Troubadour, being my favorite, with Spaceland a close second). Also, if you are a movie buff, there is lots to see. I got the pleasure of seeing both Sideways and The Life Aquatic at the ArcLight Cinema on Sunset. I have to admit that if that place existed in San Francisco, I might actually go to the movies once in awhile. Other than that, me and my friend in LA bounced around Hollywood Blvd, got a few beers at Shortstops in Echo Park, and got late night food at Mel's Diner. One wonders why the movie scene still thrives here. If I were an executive at any of these production / distribution companies, I'm not sure how thrilled I would be about having to live in LA.

New Year's Eve is approaching, and I have to agree with Brock. He says that he's never been more excited about a year than he is about this one. Me too! And to boot, Walt, Heather, Wes, and Shannon will be arriving on 12/30 to help us ring in the New Year. I can't think of anything finer right now!

Brock and DK at the Conservatory of Flowers 

Rachel and Kim outside of Lavende during the Gina Khan Salon Christmas party 

Ramblings About the Industry (part 1)

The most exciting thing I thought about today? One word, five letters, years of influence: Slint. I wish I had a link for you, but hey, the band only put out a few records and ended before really getting started. But ask any indie rock critic about the best albums of the 90's and they will almost certainly mention Spiderland. This trend of under-appreciated indie bands of the 90's coming back to life in order to revel in their post-mortem greatness seems to be building, and I say keep it coming! The Pixies are back, Slint is doing some dates, and there was even rumor that the My Bloody Valentine crew was talking again. (Hey, isn't that box set due out soon?) Personally, I think that these bands should be getting back together and cashing in on their influence which has led so many other bands to continued success. If they do it right, its a win-win situation for the us as well as them. So, look for me in line at GAMH on Sunday to get my Slint tickets. I'll be the one with his iPod turned way up, blasting Mogwai's latest one.

Jennifer Herrema. Words don't do her justice. 

How Jennifer Herrema explained the value of a photo to me

It's tough for me to forget this image of Royal Trux I've had stuck in my head since I was in high school. My buddy Jeff played me the Cats and Dogs CD along with Jon Spencer Blues Explosion's Orange, neither of which I could get into at the time. But I'll never forget that image of Jennifer Herrema. She was dictionary definition of rock'n'roll. Royal Trux went through lots o' turmoil over the years, but they resurfaced and came to GO! Studios in Carrboro, and I couldn't make it because I had to work at the Cat's Cradle that night. Somebody told me later that they ended up hanging out upstairs at GO! with Neil, Jennifer, and Chapel Hill local producer extrordinaire Brian Paulson. That just sounded cool. And I still didn't really know what they sounded like. But that look. That rock'n'roll look. So, I'm in Amoeba trying to get some ideas for Rachel's Christmas present, and I see some vinyl for Royal Trux. (I've been making it an implicit priority to start picking up all the vinyl I can from late 80's / early 90's indie rockers...this priority will become explicit once I have nailed down an occupation, of course). And there it was. Royal Trux. Cats and Dogs. Used vinyl. $5.99. Bought without a second thought. On the back of the record jacket is a picture of Jennifer Herrema that looks like a video cap from an awful VHS camcorder video. But that look. Nearly a decade since I had initially been introduced to the female face of Royal Trux, that look still held command. I guess pictures really are worth as much as they say.

Our first Thanksgiving in San Francisco - you would think that since Rachel had ingested nearly ten beers during Traps the night before, she would have not been able to prepare such a spectacular meal.  

December already?

Rachel waited exactly one day after Thanksgiving to go and buy Christmas decorations for the apartment. The living room is now complete with dangling, white Christmas lights and a real tree. We didn't have a star, so Rachel capped the tree with a little pirate flag. Thanksgiving was actually really nice. Rachel, after an impressive night of losing at her own drinking game entitled 'Traps', awoke (with some assistance) and cooked the entire meal. Brock and I, er, supervised. This wasn't my first Thanksgiving away from the family, but it was the first time since moving here that I wished I could have been home, if only for just the afternoon. I'm not homesick. But there are certainly moments that I wish home wasn't quite so far away.

The job hunt is still on. I'm feeling better about it, and I anticipate that something will work out soon. Most importantly, I got a brand new attitude about the whole thing. I was riding the 28 over to the Marina to watch the Tarheels whup up on Indiana last Wednesday, and it re-occurred to me just how amazing this whole moving thing has been. I passed through the park, then did a loop at Golden Gate Bridge and saw sailboats in the bay. I walked down Union Street and laughed at just how incapable I was of buying anything in those windows. But, I couldn't help but smile because living here, there was possibility. Anything could happen and everything could change tomorrow.

Fortunately, this has not put a kink in concert-going. Pinback at Bimbo's was a nice way to spend a Sunday night, but the Album Leaf... Man. I was blown away. I'm yet to see Mogwai, and its been awhile since I've seen Trans Am, or really any band that is completely instrumental yet doesn't fall under the genre label of Jamband or Jazz. But the Album Leaf. It was the first time I've seen visual footage so tightly and accurately tied to the instrumentation. It was like watching the soundtrack to an indie rock epic. Count me in on these guys. Pinback was good, as expected, but I couldn't help but feel I was too old to be there. It reminded me of a Toad the Wet Sprocket show. I wonder if indie rockers look at Pinback the same way jamband fans look at Dave Matthews. That was actually the first of two shows I caught at Bimbo's, the second being Neko Case. I will agree that Neko has one of the best female voices in country music. But her backing band, the Sadies, were what impressed me the most. I had been a little put off by the overly western influences found on 'Stories Often Told'. But, watching them perform the songs with such a seemingly authentic fervor for the style (they are from Canada, mind you), it was tough not to like them. Two thumbs up. And to cap off the week, there was a last minute dip into 12 Galaxies for Jacob Fred Jazz Odyssey. Now, I won't bore you with MMW comparisons, as I'm sure there are many in circulation. My impression was that it was a little avant-garde for my taste, but I bet that after listening to some of their shows and having a little more exposure to what they are all about, I would enjoy them more. I would definitely see them again, but I think I'd like to get more acquainted with their music before the next show. So, all in all, it was a good week in music world. I think the Album Leaf gets my Most Recent Jaw-Dropper award. December looks to be another stellar round of music with a few Steve Kimock appearances, Charlie Hunter, and possible Particle and Joshua Redman shows.

Only nineteen shopping days left...

My mistake at Blockbuster

When I rented The Girl Next Door, its not like I was under any false guise that it was going to be good. But, I'm still fascinated by how we (us guys, that is) put one girl on this pedestal that no female person could ever live up to. I think that The Girl Next Door very easily could have been another, albeit campy, piece in that puzzle. Unfortunately, it was Weird Science, Chasing Amy, and Risky Business, re-wrapped as this other, not-as-good movie.

First of all, the girl had, like, no lines in the entire movie. Maybe that's the point. She doesn't need lines. She's not even real. Figments of our imagination don't really need dialogue, because they are already perfect. Talking might spoil them.

Second, it doesn't really deliver on the premise of the story. Its not a terrible premise---a porn star who ended up on the wrong path actually wants to make good. So, she enlists the help of this young innocent. In my mind, a few questions should arise. Why would they like each other? What happens when the novelty wears off? What if she won't give it up to him, but screws all these other guys on tape? Why would a girl who would even consider porn as a career decide all of a sudden to stop? How would she re-connect with society? Would she end up hating the real, civilized world, and want to go back to porn immediately? What if that innocence that she finds so becoming at first, ends up being a real nuisance because he can never understand anything that she is going through. Its like when I watch a TV show that features some overweight, unattractive husband with a hot wife. Why would they get along? She's fighting anorexia, and wants to talk about it. But she can't talk to him, because its obvious that his fat ass never dealt with it! Or, she has self-esteem problems and doesn't think she's pretty. Well, fatso can't help you there either, because he dealt with the fact that he was a social misfit, incapable of ever getting laid a long time ago. Again, nothing in common. So, after the initial coolness of telling all your friends how the 'opposites attract' rule is really working for you, do you break down and realize you've got nothing to say to one another?

So the fantasy feeds itself, fooling us (again, guys, of course) into waiting for some absolute bullshit scenario like this to come along. A porn-star moving in next door. We keep getting fed all this bullshit. Movies like this, magazines like FHM or Maxim...so, guys come out with screwed up expectations. I don't want to make a commitment because that means I'll never have that three-way I've always dreamed of! Guess what, pal...if it hasn't happened already, it probably ain't gonna happen anyway. And if it does, it probably won't be nearly as great in real life as it is in your mind right now.

I think I am going to re-write The Girl Next Door. It will be about a dork that does meet up with a porn-star. Maybe they are alone in an elevator in the mall. And maybe he does grow a pair and talk to her, remembering how it worked in the movie. And maybe he does say something remotely witty (doubtful, since the only female he's had actual human contact with is probably his mother). I could write a whole movie about that split second that she actually thinks about, considers it, imagines how the situation could possibly work out. That's ninety-minutes, right there. That's right before she extinguishes the thought immediately, laughs ruefully at the kid, and leaves the elevator having already forgotten the boy that she just destroyed. Now that's a story. That's the story that should be told.

By the way, the next time I try to rent some bullshit like that, remind me that Welcome to the Dollhouse is probably available. Or at least, Can't Buy Me Love.