THIS WEEK, IN A VERY SPECIAL EIPSODE OF AREA 52...

THIS WEEK, IN A VERY SPECIAL EPISODE OF AREA 52

I know. I talk about Area 52 a lot. Even after taking the summer off to get out of the house and, y'know, pull my head out of my lower intestine, I still think about the project more than anything, even though I'm going to have to go two-a-week to get to my initial goal of 52 songs recorded and released this year.

No matter. I'm paying at least a little lip service to Quality. You're welcome.

This week's song is American Ruse, which is, that's right, an MC5 tune. (Go hunt down the original after listening to mine. It's so damned earnest in that late-60's-rage that the kids are picking up these days.) I messed with the arrangement a little, but I didn't want to lose the message of the song, which was why I did it in the first place.

You have full permission to trade these songs (actually, please do), but especially this one especially. Go tell someone.

(For other songs of protest, check out All Songs Considered, NPR's call for political songs.)

YOU SAY YOU WANT A REVOLUTION?

AIR LENNONS (or, YOU SAY YOU WANT A REVOLUTION? YOU SURE?)

So it seems Nike (they're a shoe company, apparently) is going to put out a line of sneakers commemorating John Lennon. They're going to be called "Peace Chucks." They'll have John's autograph on the heel, and lyrics from Imagine on the toe.

Imagine all the punks
kicking your poser teeth in,
wearing shoes of peeeace
yeeoo-hoo, ooo

The fact that Yoko Ono, godblessher (full disclosure: I still have a Christmas present she gave me a couple of years ago, a basket of undrinkably bad teas from around the world. It's an obvious regift, sure, but thanks to the fact that the tea really sucks, I'll probably hang on to it forever), decided that this was a good idea doesn't bother me. That's her job: to maximize the value of John's estate and his legacy moving forward. She has done spectacularly well at this, especially since he died, almost a quarter of a century ago now.

"John Lennon" long ago stopped being a pure artistic totem to become the real British Elvis, commodified and iconized until you can barely see his original shape under the multiple layers of hegemonic sheen. Which I can live with. Idols are there for killing and canonizing, and then you find new idols to feed into the sausage maker. Right on.

The only part of this that really bothers me is that they're going to be Chuck Taylor All-Stars. My shoes.

I knew this was going to happen when Nike bought out Converse. My sacred sneaks, which I've worn about 350 days a year every year since high school, are going to become a series of museum pieces for celebrity necrophiliacs.

I can't blame Yoko or Nike too much, I guess. Part of their job is to administer their property, which means sell the rights for a good price when one comes up. It sucks from a purity-of-art standpoint, but how much boycotting do you really want to do?

So fine, retrofit history for commerce. Sic transit gloria mundi, whatever and ever, amen. Iggy's selling Mercedeseses or whatever. That'll keep him in whatever drugs he's doing to keep himself from doing drugs.

And now some kids'll be wearing Air Lennons. Sorry, "Peace Chucks."

It sounds so dirty. But again. I can deal. I might even get a pair myself. Because you know, I'd love to be as high as John got, even if only metaphorically, and if the shoes do it, then well, you know, we all want to change the world.

DOES SHE DO BIRTHDAY CAKES?

DOES SHE DO BIRTHDAY CAKES?

In the spirit of caganers and other semi-religious art from the earth, I humbly offer you the occasionally scatological human sculptures of Karin Frank.

(It's not terribly safe for work, but it is work checking out if you can get to it.)

Her pieces aren't all about bodily fluids, but many of them show a humanity that's genuine and endearing. (Some of her portraits at the bottom of the page are really sweet.)

You can find other tiny perfect experimental sculptures here. [via]

FANFIC ROCK AND ROLL: HARRY AND THE POTTERS!

ROCK THE LIBRARY!

Fresh from their hit record, Voldemort Can't Stop The Rock!, I offer unto you: Harry And The Potters!

It's too easy to dismiss these kids as site-specific kidlit nerds and walk away from them, but after listening to their songs, there might be a future there if they ever decided to get their heads out of J.K. Rowling's diamond-encrusted output device and into some other arenas with more gravitas, like, say, oh, actual girls, the politics of the personal, or GG Marquez, or whatever Weezer or Ben Folds isn't singing about anymore (I've kinda lost track this last couple of years, anything good? It's possible, I'm sure).

As a band, they don't totally suck! Check out the delightfully emoish "The Human Hosepipe" and the almost-Kraftwerk-y glee of "The Wrath Of Hermione."

As far as my own recording stuff goes, well, hm. I'm clearly trying too hard to make shit sound good to my little ears, which is why I've been sleeping all weekend instead of going out to the cool Saturday night party and, much like Paula Radcliffe in the marathon yesterday, I hit the wall and had to have a bit of a sit-down at the side of the road. I do have songs, though, and I'll be home all week. I've been neglecting you all for too long, and I understand why you don't come round anymore. Not you, but you who isn't reading this. Fuck you if you're not reading this sentence. Or this one. Everyone else (this means you) shares my love always and forever.

Honestly, I'm trying to suss out which would be more spiteful: to get back on my personal musical or litterary horse and rock out in full alarming, cock-baring effect, or go into politics. (The cock line is going to kill me, so it seems I've made my decision.) I know, sure as I'm typing this and you're reading it, that teen-wizard geek books are not going to be my legacy to the world. That's okay. Really. I'll keep working on this stuff, perhaps I'll drink more, and you'll hopefully see more of my work.

Meanderingly, T.

NOT IN KANSAS ANYMORE

WE'RE NOT IN KANSAS ANYMORE

I'm such a sucker for this shit.

Rob Harvilla takes each of Black Sabbath's records and syncs them, Wizard of Oz / Pink Floyd style, with various movies.

"SUCK ME!" Ozzy thunders as Amélie searches for Monsieur Bretodeau. Dude, this is a romantic comedy.

Some other movie/album combos I'd like to try:

• Run Lola Run / New Day Rising, Husker Du
  
• The Color Purple / Blood and Chocolate, Elvis Costello
  
• Orgasmo! / Orgasmatron, Motorhead
  
• Glitter / The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars, David Bowie
  
• Deliverance / Hangin' Tough, New Kids On The Block
  
• The Passion of the Christ / Dare To Be Stupid, Wierd Al Yankovic
  
• The Wall / Don't Bore Us, Get To The Chorus! Roxette's Greatest Hits
  
• Field of Dreams / We're the Meatmen and You Suck!, Tesco Vee and The Meatmen
  
• The Jerk / That Nigger's Crazy, Richard Pryor
  

NEIGHBORHOOD HOCKEY FIGHTS

NEIGHBORHOOD HOCKEY FIGHTS

It warmed my heart.

Two teenage kids in the street last night, both very -- well, Mexican-looking anyway, outside the excellent bodega on my block that has no signs in English, circling each other, maybe a dozen guys around them, either cheering them on or telling them to cut it out it ain't worth the trouble, but they looked fairly evenly matched, just two kids going at it, no guns, not even a knife, it's cool, you know, they're just blowing off a little steam on a cruddy muggy summer night.

Then one of the kids lunges at the other, and very neatly, as if he'd watched and learned from the masters, the other kid absorbs the initial blow, steadies himself against his shoulder, reaches behind him, grabs the back of the guy's oversized t-shirt, pulls it over his head, and starts punching him in the face repeatedly.

The fight was effortless, and over in about 20 seconds. Tie & Bob would be totally proud of the kid, and I'd totally pick him first for any pickup game in the neighborhood.

UNMISSED CONNECTION

UNMISSED CONNECTION

Usually the subway ride to work carries a virtual guarantee of base frustration and a gentle erosion of my faith in the human race, but this morning was different.

It always makes me feel good when I see a stranger reading a book written by someone I know. It's happened a couple of times with people reading Caren Lissner's books, and this morning, on a not-terribly-packed train, there was a cute redhead reading what looked like a pretty dogeared copy of Jim Munroe's Angry Young Spaceman.

I mean, I could have said something to her (like what?

Hey, that's a cool book! That's so great that you know about him. Did you know I was in his last novel? Or maybe the one before that, gosh, he writes 'em so fast, eh? Yeah, I was maybe kindasorta in it, well there was this one conversation between him and some guy at a zine fair, and it was exactly like a conversation he and I had once upon a time, and so that could have been me in that teeny bit part on one page of that book, and yeah, isn't Jim Munroe great! So like, can I touch your hair? It'd sure be keen if I could just kill your boyfriend and move into your living room, wouldn't it!

Exactly.

), but sometimes it's just nice to let moments like that be.

Besides, I'd really like to make those moments seem normal to me, as my friends all become more successful, and I stand on their shoulders and see as far as they let me, and we all get a little bit closer to our collective goal of calling the tune for a world that is getting only smaller as we all grow into it.

STEVEN SEAGAL'S MP3 SAMPLES

DOWN WITH RHYTHM or OUT WITH TALENT or MARKED FOR DEATH

While I'm putting my musical stuff back on the rails, go on over and listen to the dulcet tones of the great action hero and martial arts master (I should have probably capitalized that bit, but hey, then I'd have to add Philippines political player and alleged mob informant[*], and that wouldn't be so cool, maybe) Steven Seagal.

(Route 23 especially is pretty hot.)

(I guess this story wasn't true after all. Bummer.)

PolSpy - Canadian Political Observation

FUDDLE DUDDLE

Being Canadian and, erm, over 30, the header pic at PolSpy of Pierre Elliot Trudeau made me smile until my cheeks met behind my head.

That was a true statesman who wasn't afraid to kick some ass, literally or figuratively, to get what needed to be done done.

Unlike some current robot knobtwisters on the market these days, when Trudeau told you to go fuck yourself, not only would you go do it, but then your bad self stayed fucked afterward.

WHAT I DID ON MY SUMMER VACATION

WHAT I DID ON MY SUMMER VACATION

I went outside.

It was nice.

I'll be back shortly.

I swear.