Just recently checked out Coldplay's new album "Viva La Vida (or Death and All His Friends)" and Beck's upcoming (7/8) new album "Modern Guilt".

Both have left me with a warm, good-music-y (music-y not mucous-y) feeling on my face.

I've never really been much of a Coldplay fan.  I think have one or two songs from each of their earlier albums on my iPod and you can probably guess which ones.  That doesn't mean they're bad, it just means that they know how to make a radio playable single, and there's nothing wrong with that.  If people don't hear your stuff, then you don't get to keep making stuff, but as far as sitting and listening to a full album, Chris Martin's high notes get a bit old, just like the typical (watery U2) guitar, bass, drums BUT WITH A PIANO thing.

On this new one though, they are being as experimental as Coldplay can be and it completely pays off.  The first track is this building instrumental (which is revisited with lyrics at the end of the album) which leads into "Cemeteries of London".  This track lets people know this isn't the same Coldplay that put out Parachutes.  Next is "Lost" which has a sad-yet-hopeful choir feel to it.  Later on there's "Yes", which is the most multifaceted Coldplay song I've ever heard.  There's some more good ones on there and only two or three that I tend to skip.  One thing I really noticed that I never noticed in any Coldplay release before is the drumming.  Whoever this guy is, he should get a raise.  I won't be attending any of their concerts, but goodness gracious have they made a solid, utterly listenable new type of Coldplay album.  Bang on, you British fag rockers, bang on.

As for the new Beck, I have had less time with it, but the time I've had I've enjoyed immensely.  This album is produced by Danger Mouse and, Lord Peanut, does it ever show.  More on some tracks than others.  Some of them sound like straight up classic Beck but with a programming twist here or there, but some others sound like Danger Mouse guest starring Beck...but they all fit very well into this project.  Lyrically the whole album is typical Beck (subjects include but are not limited to: dust, walking, bones, the desert, wind blowing, not knowing where you're going or coming from, being confused et al) and I'll never fault him for that, but musically it feels very "The Information" but, like I said, with some really nice new elements.  "Gamma Ray" sounds like 50's surf rock and Beck's blurry vocals are the perfect accompaniment.  "Chemtrails" is a ghostly, echo-y piece that sounds like Beck in an abandoned church but, at the end of church, instead of eating Jesus, you get a kick ass guitar solo.  I'll take that over sanguinism any day.  "Youthless" has great energy and a vocal treatment that makes Beck sound like a malfunctioning robot (although not as much as in some or his earlier work).  "Walls" and "Replica" are the least Beck (or most Mouse?) tracks.  "Walls" has something almost like a reggae beat with a violin attached which is innovative, but not my favorite experiment he's ever undertaken, but "Replica" is, in my professional opinion, The Shit.  A ragged, grinding drum loop (which sounds almost Aphex Twinny) explodes throughout, aided only by a truncated piano sample.  As the track progresses, the piano part is augmented by a beautiful string arrangement that (I can only imagine) was put together by Beck's father and long time collaborator, David Campbell.  The rest of the tracks are, for the most part, solid Beck tracks that are slightly reminiscent of earlier solid Beck tracks, but a solid Beck track is a solid Beck track and don't let ANYONE tell you otherwise.

Meanwhile at the Patent Office, I have returned from my time at BEECHOUZATRONICON XMAX.  It was refreshing and card gamey.  And there were rides...excellent rides. And shitty movies; some shitty because of bootleg quality and some because of George "Destroy My Own Legacy Just Like the Axl Rose of the Film Industry God I'm Such A Fucking Asshole" Lucas.  There were also fire alarms.  Motherfucking fire alarms.  But then again, they do say "better woken up after five hours of sleep by a fucking demonic symphony of smoke detectors that burned to death in your sleep".  I would ask that those who subscribe to that philosophy put it to the test before getting the sampler made though, just a suggestion.

In other meanwhile, I am engorged over Hellboy 2, Dark Knight and (to a lesser extent) Hancock but I am rendered flaccid by the New York movie theater going crowd, so I might do something brilliant and isolationist: see one or more of them alone in the afternoon before work.

Here's why: aside from the army of chattering bastards that seem to ruin every popular movie I've seen in theaters for the past forty years, I have missed two huge movies in theaters because, although I know twenty people who want to see them, they see them on days when I can't go or  are in other states or whatever.

No offense, but shit.

Now, something excellent and unexpected...

So, there's this shitty movie Wanted out now.

It's shitty, don't bother.

But, the guy who wrote and directed it (same guy that did Nightwatch and the sequel Daywatch some years ago) based a large part of it on the Nine Inch Nails song Every Day Is Exactly The Same from their 2005 album.

This song is used quite overtly in the film.

If you hear this song then go to You Tube to see if there is a video, you will find the video that Ray put together from Binding Silence footage for that NIN video contest thing.

Long story short, since this movie came out we've been getting at least one thousand hits per day, sometimes more. 

I'm also getting all the You Tube comment notifications that are (more or less) "I herd this SOng in tHat movie".

But whatever, as of yesterday, we've clocked in over 186,000 views.
Ah coattails.
That double 't' looks weird.

FistoPlex Productions

So, long story short:
Back in March, Nine Inch Nails released a two disc instrumental album entitled 'Ghosts I-IV'.
Trent Reznor then asked the fans to make videos to accompany the tracks.
Here is the entry that Christina, myself, Barrett and Micol (NIN friends) made.
It was all shot at the Grumman facility in Bethpage, New York where the first Apollo lunar module was made.
The guy you see is Barrett.
It's taken us over two months but we are very proud of the results.
Check it out here:
http://www.youtube.com/user/FistoPlexProduction

Hey...I won...yeah...

Mm hm.
'pointless' won the first week of the 2nd Annual Shortened Attention Span Festival.
AND, I got a review on nytheatre.com!!
I've never been reviewed!
How fucking cool is that?!
I GOT A REVIEW!!

Review:
(As the previous play ends), Death enters, juggling three clocks as a young woman holds up a sign that says "a metaphor." This marks the beginning of the final item of the evening, which is pointless. The eight performers of pointless offer 20 vignettes written by Paul Guyet, with frequent, often very humorous, announcements reminding the audience that these sketches are all, well, pointless. In one, a man stands alone onstage. Another enters, and asks him what he's waiting for. He replies, "Godot." In another skit, a banana is murdered during a party. In a third, Edgar Allan Poe is caught dancing to "Too Sexy" and says he's having a "laudanum freak-out." Some of the vignettes are very funny and others just very vulgar, but they are all performed by a very strong, energetic ensemble.

WOO HOO!
VERY FUNNY!
VERY VULGAR!!
WOO HOO!!!!!
Ray taped the first night and, although it's TOTALLY going to lose something in translation (hopefully not Scarlett Johansson's amazing ass *CHOMP*), I am going to put it (or most of it) up on my You Tube.

Thanks to all the superawesome people who made it out.
And to those who didn't?
I just HOPE you need some of my blood or semen someday.
Oh ho you shall FEEL my grudge...

realization

6.3.08

10:02 pm

Sitting here, listening to this fucking guy in the security office rambling on and fucking on about HOW MUCH HE LOVES KUNG FU MOVIES brings me to the realization that I want to die.

Wait.

No.

I want HIM to die.

Of internal hemorrhaging.

Maybe brought on by kung fu injuries.

Yes, Bruce Lee is cool.

SHUT THE FUCK UP.

If he himself were a kung fu master then yes, I might be interested in his blather, I might even engage him in conversation, but he is a balding Hispanic guy in his late forties talking about "Bruce" like they grew up together.

"Do you know what would happen if Bruce kicked you?" is one of his FAVORITE questions.

I resisted the urge to respond, "nothing" and that he would probably crumble to the ground like cheese seeing as that he is dead and has been for decades and that maybe you should stop talking about him like he's in the bathroom waiting for you to come in and join him for a game of Ookie Cookie.

Although, if you're this dork, there's no such thing as losing a game of Ookie Cookie to Bruce.

*sigh*

He's so creamy...uh...dreamy.

Dreamy.

Nuts.

Bruce's nuts.

Slurp.

10:38 pm

NOW HE'S THE COACH OF SOME NBA TEAM!!!

Jesus Fucking Christ, this guy's imagination puts Calvin's to shame!

I bet he has a time machine in his basement too.

And a transmografier.

what's that smell?/totally fucked

6.2.08
4:02 pm
In Stephen King's 1991 novel, The Dark Tower III: The Waste Lands, a character enters a run down, creepy house in Dutch Hill.

At one point, the character, Jake, enters a room that smells horribly.

Here is how King describes the smell: It was as if someone had set a mattress on fire, let it smolder a while then put it out with sewer water.

I now know what that smells like because, on my way to work while passing the trash heap that changes daily in front of the projects, I saw that very mattress and, like it or not, I smelled it.

I enjoy living in LIC oodles more than Spanish Harlem.

And that is the truth.

Also, this week 'pointless' goes up.

I was a little nervous until last night's rehearsal.

It went so well that I got a Theatre Boner.

And those are the best kind.

I am a little pensive since the head of security at my job is coming.

Man, is he going to learn a lot more about me than he should.

Also, my sainted aunt Gerry is coming as well.

Holy beans, is this going to be an eye opening experience for some people.

At times I reflect that "it won't be that bad", but the ONE line that keeps echoing back to me is "so anyways, I says to the guy, I says..."

The next family reunion should be interesting.

At least it'll be a change from the usual list of questions I'm asked.

Hopefully 'pointless' will just blur by for those that shouldn't see it.

Like the photos of the dead people in 'The Ring' or something.

Hm.

I'm totally fucked.

Paging Mr. Cock

5.12.08

3:43 pm

I just had to page a resident named Harry Johnson.

No shit.

So, in case you (person) haven't heard, 'pointless' is coming back to the world at large, jaws wide and dripping jaw water.

You should go, because it's real.

It's Thursday, Friday and Saturday (June 5th, 6th and 7th) at 8pm and Sunday the 8th at 3pm.

All at the Player's Theater on 115 MacDougal Street.

Take trans to the West 4th stop and it's around there.

Google it, you lazy bastards.

You can all 212-352-3101 or 866-811-4111 (toll free) for tickets.

Tickets are $18 at the door and $20 if you order them from those numbers.

I apologize for that but here's how this thing works...

'pointless' is one of five plays at this festival.

It's called the Shortened Attention Span Festival because each of the five shows are 20 minutes or less.

Get it?

Although, seriously, people with a REAL shortened attention span can hold onto something for, what? three minutes?

The good news is 'pointless' is a collection of about twenty one-minute vignettes, so it's designed specifically FOR people with actual shortened attention spans BY people with shortened attention spans.

It's was mostly written by me with help from Heather DuCharme who disappeared into the UK last time I heard, and there is one or two contributions from Will.

So, on top of being a Harvard X-Prize astronaut who's dating a chick named Lady, he is also a playwright.

He also saved Latin.

You should see it because, as Christina says, it's me...made slightly accessible.

So...yeah.

I'm sorry I'm not more...expansive today.

Feel like an old rug.

Whatever the case,old rug or new, it's going to be good.

We got some Fordham alums (Jessica Howell, Marco Formosa, Gia Frisillo and Sarah Bell) as well as some non-Fordham alums (Kevin Rockower and Colin Goldberg) so, whether or not you went to Fordham, there's something for everyone!

YAY!!!! 

Seriously though,these are some funny motherfuckers I got.

And you will laugh...until you die.

review of Nine Inch Nails' "The Slip"

I am going to skip over the huge but musically unrelated facts that a. this is the second major release from Trent Reznor in about as many months (yes, months, not years) (the first being the 36-track instrumental experiment 'Ghosts I-IV') and b. Reznor released this album solely on his web site, www.nin.com, for anyone and everyone to download completely free and just focus on the new album, 'The Slip'.

 

As a stand alone Nine Inch Nails album, 'The Slip' is solid, but as a sequel/aspect/coda to 2007's 'Year Zero', it's excellent.

The world of 'The Slip' could indeed be that which Reznor created for us a little over a year ago.

Many of the songs match in tone as well as subject matter and, at times, musicality.

"Letting You" is about fury at those who hold you down and pull your strings, but it is also about fury at yourself for letting these people do these things to you.

In "1,000,000", an excellent NIN album opener (and, hopefully, soon-to-be live staple), we see an individual so dulled, so numbed by his routines that the only way he can tell he's alive is to kill himself again and again.

 

There is also a distinct sci-fi feel to this album with such tracks as "Lights In The Sky" which may be a direct reference to The Presence (the huge, four-fingered hand whose appearance the sky seemed to indicate imminent destruction that was introduced on 'Year Zero'), "Corona Radiata", a 'Ghosts I-IV'-esque soundscape that is beautiful in its subtlety (except for Reznor's choice to include the stock sound effect of a cat yowling towards the end which COMPLETELY takes the listener out of it), "Demon Seed", a layered piece with some excellent drum programming lifted from "38 Ghosts" (a leftover from the 'Ghosts I-IV' sessions) that tells about a seed that is growing and changing the narrator and the album's intro track "999,999" with it's building, alien synth-pulse.

While including elements of 'Year Zero' makes 'The Slip' a bit esoteric, the straight up Nine Inch Nails radio track "Discipline" (part "The Hand That Feeds", part "Only") makes at least some of it accessible to the casual listener.

 

An interesting theory some people are batting around is that, based on the similar sound most of the tracks share, and their subject matter plus the first line spoken on this album (which might be "how did I slip into this?"), 'The Slip' is actually an album CREATED by the Nine Inch Nails OF 'Year Zero', the year 2022 in which the government, environment and society in general are in an apocalyptic state of emergency.

 

Whatever the case, like 'Year Zero', 'The Slip' is an album made richer by the context in which it's set.

Without that context though, the album isn't a complete success.

So you've got a choice:

Either head over to the homepage of 42 Entertainment, the company responsible for the four month ARG (alternate reality game) that set the stage for and accompanied the release of 'Year Zero', and spend an hour or so digging through the massive amount of story surrounding it or just turn up the volume on the four or five loud tracks and headbang like you're 16 again.

Either way, you'll have fun.

Wanted: Abused Children

4.9.08 

11:36am

This morning, eyes half closed, listening to Air, I found myself staring directly at an "abused child".

The eyes were hollow, the set of the jaw smacked of Dickensian mistreatment and the mouth was in that perpetual sob state, a dam ready top burst at the slightest urging...by a fist.

I focused on the rest of the sign and saw it was a call for child protection detectives.

The "abused children" were in the areas above the seats and the "child protection detectives" were on the top, lining the car.

Along with the "detectives", who were all world-weary and determined...with a hint of sadness..., was the slogan: Are you bold enough?

For a moment, I was confused.

I thought that was the slogan of Doritos.

And then I thought, "How abused can they be if they're getting Doritos?  Doritos are delicious!  Except those new fusion ones. They're pretty gross, so I suppose that could be considered-"

Then I stopped.

I started to consider the looks of the "abused children" and the "detectives".

During my time in "the business" (the SHOW business for all the laypeople), I've come to realize that people who say they are people (Hi, I'm a dentist...really...) or people who say they are not people (This woman who lost three hundred pounds in a week is NOT AN ACTRESS! TOTALLY!) are usually lying.

I then decided that these "abused children" looked too abused and that these "detectives" looked too detectivey.

Then I thought, wow, what an advertising nightmare!

You can't just photograph abused kids because that's fucked up and off putting.

I mean, who would want to join up if you had a picture of a battered (as in beaten, not as in covered in delicious batter) of teeth and bruises as your poster child (pun possibly intended)?

But then again, you can't hire actors because that's fucked up in a different, more hypocritical, sort of glossing over the problem and making it fake way.

But then again, you can't pitch becoming a child protection detective without SOME visual stimuli.

It would be like a car commercial without a car.

So I guess my solution (because if you don't have one of these you are part of the problem, even if the problem is child abuse) is to find the more attractive of the abused children and take their pictures.

It's a win-win situation.

You get the real deal on your posters and, therefore the ring of truth and you also get attractive, young, UNDISCOVERED models who might get seen by the right ad guy and BAM, the next fill-in-the-blank.

I'm just trying to help.

Actually, I was just trying to get to work, but Fate forced me into trying to help.

Luckily, I enjoy a challenge.

And a tall, cool glass of pear juice.

The Looza brand is the best.

Real Brazilian type stuff.

I remember once in college, I had a friend who had a friend whose father ran a Brazilian restaurant.

I was over at their apartment (might have been Gia, Taylor and Ruth's place) and she had a bag with some drinks in it.

There was mango juice, guava juice and cashew nut juice.

Most people snatched up the mango and guava, leaving the cashew nut juice.

Of course I opted to try the cashew nut juice.

It was a bit off putting that the juice really did smell like cashews, but you know me and nut juice...

I took a sip and was head over heels for this stuff in an instant.

A few days later I returned to 8F after a rehearsals and saw my roommates gathered nervously around a cardboard box.

They looked at me and said that a while ago, someone knocked on the door and when it was opened, nothing was there but this box.

For some reason, my roommates expected me to have something to do with the creepy, unmarked cardboard box that had been delivered.

And they were right.

I opened the box and was tickled to find forty bottles of cashew nut juice.

I was so stoked about this windfall of nut juice that I went around to my friend's apartments with the box and started handing out bottles.

To spread the nut juice love.

I had a lot of takers but I'm not sure how many people actually drank it in the end.

Whatever the case, it was an excellent gift; frightening and nutritious.

Tonight is Saul Williams.
******************************Just got back from Saul Williams.
You know, I'm done trying to turn people on to new stuff that is amazing.
Fuck you, find out for yourself.

Avoid elevators

When I returned to my apartment, the doorman had his hands full with a group of Irish women in their late 20's/early 30's.

They were a group of friends that all happened to babysit children in my building and none of them had their ID.

They'd all worked there long enough to know that you need ID to get in if you aren't a resident, but they'd also worked there long enough to develop a proprietary sense that the doormen should all know them by sight and "just let them up".

I squeezed by, smiling at the doorman who gave me the look of a drowning man.

I sympathized, but only on the surface; I was too tired to care about his little problem that would inevitably be sorted out in a few short moments.

I turned the corner and stood waiting for one of the two elevators to arrive.

They are notoriously slow and while waiting, a man from the building who I knew had some debilitating disease that had yet to debilitate him approached.

I knew about his disease but I did not know his name.

There appeared to be some depth of feeling between us, but I didn't know where it had come from.

He looked like an old Shakespearean actor.

After a time, the elevator arrived.

I got on as did a young boy.

The old man got on, then got off, either forgetting something or remembering something.

I pressed my floor, eight, and, although the boy must have pressed his, I hadn't noticed.

I then saw the emblem sewn onto the left breast of his blazer.

It was that of my alma mater, St. Bernard's.

I asked him something about his school and he replied.

Apparently, he'd done badly on a test that day and was disappointed in himself.

I told him that, no matter what he thought at the time, that St. Bernard's is an excellent school and he should be enjoying every minute of it.

He didn't disagree but hearing it helped.

He was relieved to know there was something beyond the fourth grade.

I then noticed that he was the spitting image of my old next door neighbor's son.

"Is your last name Goldman?"

He answered yes.

Around that time, the elevator arrived at my floor, the eighth.

The doors opened and I saw that the landing was about two feet over my head.

For some reason I didn't consider this abnormal and I was about to grab the landing and climb out when I turned back to the boy.

"Whatever the case, have fun at six Bernard's...seven Bernard's..."

He was giggling and I was smiling, but, for some strange reason, my tongue was tangled and I was unable to say "Saint Bernard's".

I had just arranged the sounds required to express myself when the elevator began to fall.

No small lurch to indicate something was wrong, simply the feeling that the massive hands of gravity had disappeared.

I had time to see the terror on the boy's face and was considering saying something or taking him in my arms when the lights flickered and everything went dark.

HOT MESS VS. OKAY!!

3.31.08

3:56pm

At approximately 3pm on the afternoon of March 31, 2008, I bore witness to one of the most exciting events...in the History of Man:

HOT MESS VS. OKAY!!

The Contenders:

Big, fat, chattery clump of noise vs. the twittery idiot box (not a television, a person, a box of idiocy) 

The Background:

The Oaf was regaling the Twit with stories of her grandmother who went nutty toward the end.

The Oaf kept referring to her grandmother as a "hot mess", the reaction of the Twit to these recollections was to continually repeat "okay!!"*

After a few moments, I realized that this was much more than a mere recanting of tales, this was a bloodmatch.

Or deathmatch.

Or bloody deathmatch, as the British might say.

So I began to keep count of who said what more, "hot mess" or "okay!!".

The Results:

It was a grueling five minutes but in the end...it was a tie, 7 to 7.

Rematch?

A rematch is almost certain and I will be there to bring the noise, the funk and all the other things that one would want to bring to a mind fart contest like this one.

Stay tuned!!

*I wish more than anything that I could attach a sound clip of her saying "okay".

It is probably the most annoying delivery that two syllables can have.

I will try to describe it:

The emotions are always disbelief and amusement, but exaggerated; as if her subtext is:

'Whoa! Too much information! Thank-ah yoooou-ah!'

Very high school/valley girl.

The intonation is ALWAYS THE SAME, whether it's in reaction to stories about someone's crazy grandmother or a UFO sighting or a dead baby stuffed full of shit and maggots by a lunatic who then sent said baby to the Pope, which adds a lot to the element of I-want-to-step-on-your-throat.

It starts off high and nasally, always nasally and remains at the same note, pitch and timbre until the "a" in "okay" is reached, where it slides down the octaves until it is inaudible.

Also, lending to the sandpaper-on-my-scrotum feel is the fact that she says this about 400,000,000 times a day.

Give or take.

The Music of the Spheres

3.20.08

10:13 pm

Oh ho yes indeed.

The Music of the Spheres.

The Spheres of Terrible R&B.

Specifically, Usher.

Usher’s new "joint" is entitled "Love In The Club".

Or maybe "Love In This Club" (it’s hard to go off half-cocked if you know exactly what it is you’re talking about...in all honestly, I’m really not even sure it IS Usher but again, a half cock in your hand is...worth......gross, never mind).

Whatever the case, I heard the title first and thought to myself, "Aww, that’s kind of sweet.  Taking such a gross, sticky, sex and drug laden place and imparting it with some sense of romance is kind of nice."

Then, oh silly silly me, I listened to the song.

Silly silly.

Me.

The song is not, as I had dared to dream, about catching someone’s eye across the crunk and vial littered floor of a club and finding True Love, no.

It’s about wanting to fuck someone SO BADLY that you do it...in the club.

L’amor.

The chorus is actually "make love in this club".

One line in particular (paraphrased xmax; half cock, you understand) stands out like a priest’s erection on Easter (TOPICAL!!!!)

"I’ve got the medicine that you need the most/and I know you’re gonna swallow every dose"

Ah euphemisms...sweet, sweet euphemisms...for semen.

Whatever the case, this wet piece of shit is better than that fucking obnoxious idiot anthem "Yeah Yeah Yeah (Yeah Yeah Yeah)" that dominated our charts AND hearts in recent years.

Although that isn’t saying much.

Like, "Hey, today there’s more blood than pus coming out of my penis! Yay!" isn’t saying much.

Half a cock...in your hand.

'Does anyone smell that?'

3.14.08
7:40 pm
The above question (spoken in broken, heavily accented English by an African nurse) is what has lead me to create the paragraph below.
I swear to you that this is true.
So.
You all know that I don't work in the best Health Care Facility in the World or even in New York City.
But seriously, there is a difference between "not the best" and "populated but goddamn inbred fucking idiots".
So.
I arrive today to find a message in my Inbox with the rules for smoking inside the Hospital attached.
I think nothing of it since it, like most of the messages in my Inbox, does not concern me.
I thought that maybe a resident had been caught smoking where they shouldn't have been or perhaps an employee was suspended for the same reason.
A little later, I was informed why each and every person with a mail box in the system received the same message.
A resident who was supposed to have "One to One" coverage (which means for each of the three 8-hour shifts that make up a workday, there is a professional- and I'm going to go with the dictionary definition which is one who receives monetary compensation for performing a service- nurse with that person) had accidentally set himself on fire.
Yes.
Instead of watching him and, hopefully, intervening, she merely commented, "Does anyone smell that?"
Turns out that yes, several people smelled that...and screamed...a lot.
The resident was moved to a better Hospital (actually a piss-stained cardboard box down the street, but a better Hospital nonetheless) but the nurse remains unpunished.
Why?
Because nurses will cover each others asses no matter how bad they fuck up.
Why?
Because each and every one of them is intelligent enough to know that they are stupid enough to fuck up massively enough to need their OWN ass covered and they are merely banking the good karma.
Like, imagine a spider web made by spiders who are cunning and have a strong sense of self preservation but are dumb as hammers with developmental disabilities.
These hammers are taking care of the infirm here at my place of business.
Anyway, the Admins decided that the best way to stop this from happening again was to send out an e-mail reminding people of the smoking policy and add an extra Security guard to the shifts to wander around from floor to floor and literally check to make sure that no one is on fire.
Honestly...I don't have anything else to say.
*****************************************
Happy Pi Day

happy. birthday.

3.13.08

3:13 pm

Say what you will about Paul McCartney beating up his wife (quite frankly I think she only has herself to blame; I mean, name one super-mega-star that doesn't have something fundamental wrong with them (Michael Jackson much?).  Success of that magnitude should be a clear warning sign, like a rattlesnake's rattle or an angry, screaming spider waving a gun) but "Happy Birthday" is just an hilarious, uplifting song.

The frantic, insistent yelling of "we would like you to dance", the children singing "birthday", the infectious guitar riffs and the heightened celebratory mood brought about by a multiple Birthday.

This song serves as aural Prozac.

In fact, if you hear this song and depression persists, you may just want to kill yourself because you're bumming everyone out. 

Thanks for that.

Asshole.

People need to be more careful.

3.7.08

5:10 pm

And here's why...

Occasionally, my phone here will ring.

Sometimes it's a wrong number, sometimes silence, some times even, a person trying to reach this number.

And every once in a while...it's something different.

With the outdated phone system we have here, every once in a while, the phone will ring and I will pick up and find myself in the midst of someone else's phone call.

If it's two people, I'll just hang up and reconnect them, but sometimes it's someone voice mail.

Let me explain, say you wanted to called someone's cell phone from a phone here.

You get their machine and hang up.

Well.

For some strange reason, it will pop over to me so that when I pick up, I'll hear that person's answering machine message and,if I want, I can then leave a message.

I often do.

They aren't normal.

I have never done anything more...bad?...than that.

Until today.

So, the phone rings and I say, chipper as a chipper, "Operator may I help-"

I hear a voice cut itself off...and then begin again.

"I didn't get that.  Say: 1 the policy balance, 2: another sum"

I say "1".

The robot informs me that: "Your balance is $188.44.  Would you like to deduct that from your checking account?"

"Yes" I say.  I wanted to, very much.

"Okay, now our records show you've done this before.  Does your checking account end in 4418?"

Mine doesn't, but I'm sure someone's does.

"Yes" I intoned.

"Okay, your policy balance has been paid off.  This transaction might not show up on your statement until-"

I hung up, bored with his candor.

Then I paused.

Then I laughed my fucking ass off.

I just helped pay off someone's policy balance, whatever the fuck that is.

I'm a good person.

And they need to update this phone system.

nine inch nails ghosts i-iv

one single page

2.27.08

3:06 pm

My milk goes bad today and I still have quite a bit left.

If I can and it's drinkable, I am going to have a large glass of chocolate milk this evening when I get home.

Also, someone smelled like either Fritos or Triscuits on the Subway today.

The smell wasn't unpleasant, but the fact that someone actually smelled like whichever one it was was.

The BEECHOUZATRONICON XMAX '08 beach house has been selected.

It is undergoing funkification and sexitizing processes as we speak, although these processes won't be fully completed until Those Chosen enter the premises.

As usual.

Feeling slightly Russian today.

Paulikov.

Been watching the penultimate season of The Wire.

If you like good things, check out this show.

The characters are very good.

Very.

Good.

Very good.

Forgot breakfast today, but I did abs so I can just chomp on the endorphins until my break.

chompchompchomp

Monday was me and Chris' 8th anniversary.

In celebration we went up to Cold Spring on Sunday and had an excellent day.

I had a steak wrapped in prosciutto.

I'd like to call it the 'Fuck You Gia' since she is embarking upon a week of veganism.

And I will.

The 'Fuck You Gia' was excellent.

I also climbed a mountain with my nouf and we took ridiculously cute pictures.

I ate snow and it was cold.

I honestly hope that you all get as much love in your lives as I have.

Just not with my girlfriend.

Wetness.

Just saw the trailer for the new Indiana Jones movie.
There's wetness.

the vantage falling from the ivory tower

2.15.08
10:11 pm

Is it strange that a priest who has undergone gastric bypass occasionally gives me Werther's Originals?
Hm.
I was wandering around 57th the other day and I happened to pass the Tourneau with all the different clocks out front and I noticed, for the first time, the constant ticking sound emitting from it.
I found it whimsical yet practical, but wondered if the people who work right next to Tourneau enjoy it as much as I do...
I auditioned for the part of Death for an upcoming White Castle commercial.
Surprisingly it had little to do with the quality of the food.
I'm reading "Pattern Recognition" at the moment and finding Trent Reznor less ingenious by the page.
My biceps are harder than any time in recent memory and I'm good with that.
Also, my already-well defined calves have become even more so.
Am okay with that as well.
Was in major bog for a day or so, but have pulled myself out of it.
Hope to begin and finish filming this weekend.
I weep for those without Monday off.
You need to find new jobs that respect whatever the hell we should respect in regards to the day we have off.
Actually, I DO know what Monday is.
It's a goddamn affront.
I remember when we had Washington AND Lincoln's Birthdays off.
Who fucking decided to break it off just under the dentate line and make a Presidential Frappuccino out of days off?
Dogfuckers.

A decision.

1.31.08

8:59pm

Yes.

I have made a decision.

I have made it on my own and, I'm sorry Christina, there will be no bending on this.

No matter HOW talented or smart or sexy we consider our child/children to be, he/she will not be allowed to answer the phone until they can understand and respond accurately to the question, "Is your mother/father there?".

Now, I'm sure you're wondering how I came to make this irreversible, unbending decision.

Well, I'll tell you how.

One of my co-workers just called some goddamn relative of hers and, for at least three minutes, her side of the conversation consisted of: "Put Gramma 'n the phone, put Gramma 'n the phone, put Gramma 'n the phone, put Gramma 'n the phone, put Gramma 'n the phone, put Gramma 'n the phone, put Gramma 'n the phone,  <idiot fucking laughter at just how CUTE and FUNNY the child on the other end of the phone is for NO PUTTIN' GRAMMA 'N THE PHONE>, put Gramma 'n the phone, put Gramma 'n the phone, put Gramma 'n the phone, put Gramma 'n the phone, put Gramma 'n the phone, put Gramma 'n the phone, put Gramma 'n the phone, <idiot fucking laughter at how NOT obnoxious the aforementioned child is>, put Gramma 'n the phone, put Gramma 'n the phone, put Gramma 'n the phone, put Gramma 'n the phone, put Gramma 'n the phone, put Gramma 'n the phone, put Gramma 'n the phone, put Gramma 'n the phone, put Gramma 'n the phone, put Gramma 'n the phone, put Gramma 'n the phone, <idiot fucking laughter at just how CLEVER this little bundle of joy and teeth is> put Gramma 'n the phone, put Gramma 'n the phone, put Gramma 'n the phone, put Gramma 'n the phone, <burbling noise as my index finger enters the brain>.

I like the last part.

I have nothing against kids but I'm REALLY not a fan of the "my kid is better/more special/etc. than yours simply because it's mine" sentiment.

I guess it's more that I have a problem with the parents of said children.

There are three types of children: the normal ones (who should not be heard from or seen by anyone but those in the child's IMMEDIATE family, and even then only by choice, until they can handle the phone as mentioned above), the stupid ones (like brain defect stupid) and the terrifying prodigies.

The prodigies should be worshipped as Gods so they don't get the wrong ideas and destroy humanity, but other than that?

Keep them in a box until they can function (at least on the telephone) like well trained dogs...that can talk.

Or just don't fucking make me listen to your uninhibited mirth and joy at reveling in the innocent retard ramblings of your should-have-been-aborted fuckling.

Whichever.

Anyway, TMBG this weekend.

Rock on.

Also, I'm planning on filming the third installment of  'The Inchoate Trilogy', entitled 'sextodecimo' in the next week or so.

Now, I know I'm occasionally guilty of hyperbole, but, seriously, this is going to cause the moon to explode and send the earth spinning either into the sun or off into the black depths of space, I'm not sure.

Will should know.

Will?

I'll keep you updated...   

Oh, also, if anyone wants to join me and others at either the Saul Williams show on Wednesday the 9th of April at Irving Plaza or eels at the Highline Ballroom on Tuesday the first or Wednesday the second of April, let me know.

Should be fun...

Diary of the Dead?

All right, fine.
I like zombies and zombie movies as much as the next person who likes zombies and zombie movies, but after Land of the Dead (which blew zombies) Romero is REALLY going to have to bring it ("it" being the stuff of which great zombie movies are made).
And DOTD looks like someone saw the Blair Witch Project, then the trailer for Cloverfield and then called Romero and said "first person is in, George!" and he fucking fell for it.
But, hey, whatever.
I'll see you in hell Diary of the Dead...you'd better be worth the bus fare.

New Favorite Website.

Hot Chicks With Douchebags
Warning: May cause internal bleeding.

Taste it.

HERE.


Also: check out George Washington Diarrhea's My Space page for the full theme song.
There's harmony and a special guest singer...The Sandwich.

Hey...if it works...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rN2VqFPNS8w

Sexytuple

sexytuple- n. a situation in which I am paid six times the original fee for being sexy.

Example: This Plavix thing was a sexytuple for me.

Thank you Plavix, my new TV will shine on powered by electricity and your love.

Plavix Rock Star or Plavix Xmax

12.18.07
3:57PM
Does your heart have clots?
Why not name them after your enemies...and then destroy them with the sexiest heart medicine ever...PLAVIX.
Why, you might ask as you are curious little weasels, is this the sexiest heart medicine ever?
Well, my mischievous little marmots, I will tell you.
Because I am the Voice featured in several of their advertisements.
And you know if I and my big, sexy voice are involved, it's sexy.
Bacardi...sexy.
Grey Goose...sexy.
Evergreen Financial...sexually arousing.
The Holocaust...very sexy.

What an excellent Christmas present.
I also had a delicious chocolate Muffin while I was waiting.
That's always good.
Plus, I learned some new industry lingo...
"Wild lines" are NOT lines of coke breaking the typical "straight line" format, but rather a line from a script read on its own, out of context and "academy style" means reading one section three times in a row in order to get different variations of said line, not giving an Academy Awards acceptance speech.
I learn something every day I'm not working at this cocksucking asshole factory.

I am Actor!
Hear me Muffin!
Also, ask your doctor if Plavix is right for you...which it is...because it's sexy.
::nibble::

P.S. "Cocksucking" came up as "crosskicking" on the spell check.
That's actually kind of more offensive in it's own way.

Lite Jazz Has Raped Vince Guaraldi

12.17.07
Sitting in a local pizza parlor (I think that is a LOVELY little epithet by the by) I had the utter misfortune to hear the Lite Jazz sodomizing of the excellent and perfect "Linus and Lucy" by the Vince Guaraldi Trio (aka the Charlie Brown theme).
Speed it up, add a drum machine beat and drain all the feeling, color and soul out of it and that's pretty much what it sounds like.
I'd go into more detail by thinking about it brings on fits of Jittering Diarrhea.
Speaking of Diarrhea.
The final version of the new Gablocki (or should we go with Zuyet?) production, "The Best Sandwich Ever" (featuring a brand new track from the Grammy award winning band, George Washington Diarrhea, check them totally out at www.myspace.com/georgewashingtondiarrhea) should be out soon.
I will keep you posted.

Tell your friends...

12.6.07

10:33 pm

Just sitting here, minding my owns (my own business), trying to decide whether or not I'm going to call out of work tomorrow when my favorite know-nothing-know-it-all (the History Channel buff I ranted about that time in the Red Room) says this jewel that I must now share with you.

Context: Talking about the martial arts like he actually practices one and as if he is not a middle aged, overweight, balding Hispanic dingbat.

"The cheekbone is powerful.

The cheekbone protects the cheek."

Ooooooooh.

THAT'S what it does.

Seriously, as fucking opposed to what?

The knee?

Yeah, I think I just may call out tomorrow.

Last week I had a four day work week and going from a four to a full five can sometimes give me anal fissures of the soul.

But, fear not, if I DO decide to extend me weekend, I will not blither it away on biscuits and fritters, I am working on yet another project I started in 2005.

It's about Christo.

That motherfucking cocksucker.

That filthy, fucking dog.

Anyway,that'll be happening soon.

And then maybe Malaise Away.

The weather's right for it.

All I need now is some mopey fucks.

Would YOU like to be one of my mopey fucks?

Let me know.

We'll mope something out.

Meanwhile, this Sunday, Phil and Ray and I are going to squeeze our creative juices into a single container and drink deep.

Life on this planet should cease soon after.

Consider it broughten.

Disney-riffic rootin tootin fuckyou imsogoddamnstired assfuck

11.27.07

4:45 pm

how is it possible that i got less sleep while ON FUCKING VACATION AT HOME THAN I DO USUALLY?

Maybe I should get a job at home so I can sleep more.

i tired.

early morning bad

fuck fuck

went to Disney world while at home (first time since summer of '99 with Jenn and Lauren...when life was more simple...) and, although i believed myself far too cynical to enjoy myself, I surprised me and had a wonderful (if not slightly price-gouged) time.

this is one of the first times I've traveled with my iPod and it's nothing but a breeze, a cooool breeze.

No carry on and my super new ear plugs headphone things make the engines, stews and those GODDAMN OVERABUNDANT CAPTAINS ANNOUNCEMENTS utterly negligible.

I mean, seriously, who gives a tingly fuck that we're flying over North Carolina on the way to New York.

Tell me if we're NOT flying over North Carolina.

THAT is something I want to know.

Assez.

I meant that to be a jazzy new way of saying "asses", not the French verb form for "some fucking thing".

Oui.

Man my head hurts.

Assez foue.

Nous assez avec trois fromage dans le chein et la vache.

Oui.

I'm getting a bunch of scrumble bums together to see 'No Country For Old Men' this weekend.

If you want to be among the Chosen, be born into Fucky, be

borne

 into

it.

Schwa.

I went on the Haunted Mansion.

They updated some stuff.

It's still excellent.

Also, they updated the Pirates ride include the characters from the movies and it's pale.

I had ribs last night.

30 of them.

But they were small.

Cat ribs maybe.

I'm going to contact the folks.

Folks.

Fokes.

No Hot Pants For Wario Gin OR When The Going Gets Tough, The Tough Get Chinky

11.19.07
5:34 pm
That actually sums the whole thing up quite nicely.
Hm.
Well, for those who CAN'T read between the lines:
I traveled with Reinhold Von Tuckermann via the Big Gray Dog to Washington Direct Current this weekend to cavort with one William James Buckley Pomersantz.
It was chinky.
We met Brooke (good people), Wilbo's roommate/good friend and, as expected, her uber-religious 15 year old sister uttered the words, "he looks like a statue" when she caught sight of me mere moments after waking up Saturday morning before I'd had a chance to put my hair up.
Happens all the time, but I always enjoy when it does.
Means things are running the way they should, by buckets!
Friday night, we embarked upon our third attempt at actually finishing the Big Lebowski drinking game without getting distracted by Asian girls (not the kissing kind, the pretentious, coke-tooting and somber, soul-sucking kind), fly-blown chicken, fire escapes and/or me refusing to drink anymore Irished-Up vodka milk.
The enormity of the task was deceptively easy.
Phil and Will, leather gulleted gunslinger that they are, stuck with Beers while I, with my girlish sensibilities, vapors and monthlies stuck with Sapphire Gin and ginger ale.
Gin tastes like pine trees/ Pine Sol.
We also had two huge packages of Saltines (to soak up the aggravated alcohol damage), hummus and pita, a pack of Twinkies and a pack of Snowballs (the Limited Edition Winter White kind).
They were more disgusted and nonplussed at the consumption of the snack cakes than the Gin.
Anyway, to make a long and bleary story somewhat shorter, I told Brooke (first impression time!!!) that we had played this game in the presence of bitches before, and she WAS NOT a bitch.
I was VERY VEHEMENT on that note.
Very.
VERY.
We then proceeded to take five hours to watch the whole movie...
well...
sort of...
I took five hours, while Phil and Will took about 4 hours and 35 minutes.
You see, the two of them feel asleep on Will's couch before the end of the movie, making ME the first and ONLY Champion of the Fatty Patrol Executive Board Members Big Lebowski drinking game.
I hereby officially retire from the aforementioned game for the remainder of my natural life.
Thank you.
Also thanks to the BLDG, Saturday and Sunday had a bit of a pall cast across them.
Saturday consisted of eating the best burger in D.C., then getting Will his B-day gift.
After more deliberation than even I am used to, we consulted a slightly batrachian employee at the GameStop in the Pentagon City Mall and made our purchase:
Wario Ware: Smooth Moves.
Happy Birthday Will.
Here is some crazy, chinked-out shit.
We then returned to Will's home and rolled around slowly for a while before deciding to check out No Country For Old Men, the Coen Bros. directed adaptation of the Cormac McCarthy novel.
It was an amazing movie.
See it.
Well, that is if you enjoy things that are excellent.
If, you know, you like things that suck, see something else, but if you enjoy things that are great and perfect, see the movie.
Anyway, afterwards we had pasta and something called a Kit Kat Bar at a swanky DC chow house.
I then walked face first into a one way sign and proceeded to bend it in half.
The Dept. of Transportation will receive a VERY stern letter from me in regards to the minimum height requirements of there street signs.
We then played Wario Ware for about three hours.
This game is totally fucked and beautiful.
I can't describe it.
This was the first time I had played a Wii and I can see where, if utilized correctly, the control set up would indeed revolutionize the industry.
I also applaud the Japanese for trying to get all those fart ass gamers moving around a bit, even if it is only to shave a sheep or to balance a panda or to pluck a nose hair.
Sunday morning, Will and I made French Toast after Phil's Burnt Plastic Soup didn't pan out.
Later we had an excellent lunch at a Thai restaurant and went to Barnes & Noble to buy Cormac McCarthy books.
Soon after, Philip and I rejoined our friends at Greyhound and spun back to New Yawk.
All in all, solid good, but an overwhelming feeling of "why the fuck aren't we doing this more often" seemed to pervade the occasion.
We will have to work on that in the coming decade, if Will has a weekend free and it is not too cold.
In the end, I left my brush at Will's but still enjoyed myself.
Enough so, at least, to comment upon it here.
Yours internally,

Knox Harrison
Famous Film Artist

A review of Nine Inch Nails' Y34RZ3R0R3M1X3D

Every Nine Inch Nails remix album ends up being a mixed bag.
It's just what happens when you get different artists with different styles in one place.
And like other Nine Inch Nails remix albums, the results are varied.
In the case of “Y34RZ3R0R3M1X3D”, the results are more varied than any Nine Inch Nails remix album to date.
Here's a track by track breakdown...

Gunshots By Computer (Saul Williams)
You don't remix a one minute and forty three second instrumental.
Instead, you get an amazing poet like Saul Williams to give it a voice.
A voice that speaks of the army we hear in it and of the people who the army is marching against and of the Nation that the army comes from and of the leader of the army who doesn't know why he has an army in the first place and of the world in which there exists such an army.
Excellent reinterpretation of an excellent opener.

The Great Destroyer (modwheelmood)
I'm usually not a fan of cutting and pasting lyrics to serve the purpose of a remixer, but in the case of modwheelmood's reinvisioning of ‘The Great Destroyer’, it works…very well.
Along with Saul Williams, Alessandro Cortini is the only remixer on this album to have worked closely with Reznor for an extended period of time.
Cortini has performed this song live with Reznor dozens of times, who better to remix it?
What modwheelmood does is amazing; they turn this half paranoid anthem/half computer error explosion into a gentle, sad and climactic introduction to the album.
The re-keying of Reznor's vocals creates a whole new range of emotions not found in the original and it's gorgeous.
Yes, it sounds a bit like Radiohead.
So does modwheelmood.
And anyway, Radiohead is good.
So shut up.

My Violent Heart (Pirate Robot Midget)
The truncated but solid stompfest of Pirate Robot Midget's ‘My Violent Heart’ adds some jagged edges to an already heavy track.
In the original, the army you hear is angry and desperate; in this version they're at your door.
The intro and outro sounds give it a pirated (no pun intended) radio transmission feel.
Nice touch.

The Beginning of the End (Ladytron)
At first listen, Ladytron's ‘The Beginning of the End’ seems a bit lacking and typical.
But if you really dig in, you'll find it has more to offer; not huge amounts more mind you, but more than one would originally think.
The sonic textures add a colder feel to one of the only organic tracks on “Year Zero”.
The 'Closer' reference at the end?
I'm of two minds.
On one hand, it sort of takes you out of the whole “year zero" concept, but then again, these days Reznor does break into 'The Only Time' during performances of 'Closer'.
No harm, no foul.

Survivalism (Saul Williams)
Saul Williams’ version of ‘Survivalism’ takes a bit of the militaristic edge off the original and highlights some elements buried beneath the noise, but I think he should stick to being an amazing wordsmith rather than a so-so remixer.
It isn't bad by any means, but it doesn't float my remix boat.
Also, any Nine Inch Nails fan that picked up the ‘Survivalism’ single back in March has had this remix for over 6 months.
To be fair, I loved his vocal version of this track; it adds that special brand of Williams' vitriol.

Capital G (Epworth Phones)
Not a fan of the reworking of ‘Capital G’.
Too bleepy and bloopy in that annoying "hott clubb mixxx" sort of way.
Interesting use of the vocals though.
They got it half right.

Vessel (Bill Laswell)
Bill Laswell's ‘Vessel’ adds some nice dimension and ferocity to the original although it's hardly a reinvention.
It's a very good remix, as in it's exactly what you'd expect a remix of this song to sound like. I can't really say much more.

The Warning (Stefan Goodchild featuring Doudou N'Diaye)
‘The Warning’ is a great track and the remix by Stefan Goodchild and Doudou N'Diaye Rose is incredible.
The drums add a more organic feel that's missing from the grinding machine sound of the original.
The tinkling piano adds a very unsettling element that fits perfectly with the core of the song.
One of the best on the album.

Meet Your Master (The Faint)
The Faint took the snide, rebellious feel of ‘Meet Your Master’ and multiplied it by 1,000 Funktates.
A Funktate is the unit of measurement for funkiness.
The editing is razor sharp and, with the vocal rendering, the result is incredibly energetic.
This one of the best recreations on here...and you can shake your ass to it.

God Given & Zero Sum (Stephen Morris and Gillian Gilbert)
Both of Stephen Morris and Gillian Gilbert’s remixes add a little something here and there, but the "lay down most of the original elements with a simple synth line underneath them" device never really blows anyone's mind.
As for ‘God Given’, I've never really loved the song and this is just a remix of a song that I've never really loved.
‘Zero Sum’ gained a few interesting components but lost much more in the treatment.
Originally, the song was beautiful, haunting, sad and expansive, now?
It's a remix with some keyboards added.
Way to go, New Order.

Me, I’m Not (Olof Dreijer)
Fuck you, Olof.
After 14 solid minutes of your boring dark wave drones with a few whispers from the original track thrown in I wanted to mutilate my genitals...with a knife.
Thanks for that.

Another Version of the Truth (Kronos Quartet and Enrique Gonzalez Muller)
It's hard not to compare the Kronos Quartet and Enrique Gonzalez Muller’s version of ‘Another Version of the Truth’ with Bellini's version of ‘The Frail’ from the 2000 remix album "Things Falling Apart".
However, it's easy to say that this is better.
Rather than just playing piano parts on the strings, the Kronos Quartet takes the theme provided by Reznor and travels all over with it.
The original feels cold and lonely while this version feels reflective and warm.

In This Twilight (Fennesz)
Fennesz transforms the dying old machine of ‘In This Twilight’ into a beautiful yet sorrowful recollective dream.
From the haze of noise, the occasional sharp edge is felt, but it's more a bitter edge of regret rather than the cold metal felt in the original.
A much more human version of a song about the end of humanity.
The most beautiful offering on “Y34RZ3R0R3M1X3D”.

And the best part is…if you hated every remix on this thing, you can put your money where your whiny, malcontent mouth is!
The disc has EVERY SINGLE SOUND that makes up “Year Zero” included on it.
They’re all there, and there’s even a special website opening up on the release date for you to show the world that you’re better than the artists on this album.
You pretentious asshole.

Review of "The Inevitable Rise and Liberation of Niggy Tardust"

Reznor acts as an intelligent, relevant Timbaland for Williams' meaningful, emotional lyrics.
Driving, pounding beats scattered across the characteristically haunting Nine Inch Nails ambience.
Add in the hip hop fingerprints of Thavius Beck and CD KIDTRONIC and you have something unique: dark, intelligent, entrancing, danceable poetry/hip hop.
This album is one of the best examples of a perfect collaboration.
There's more of a theme in the sound of "The Inevitable Rise and Liberation of Niggy Tardust" than there is in Williams' other two albums.
Obviously that fact is due to Reznor's grinding, buzzing, scratchy synths, bass and drums all over this project.
It gives the album a unified feel missing from both "Amethyst Rock Star" and William's self titled release and that adds a shade of maturity.

The explosive intro track, "Black History Month" grabs the listener's attention and commands them to heed every word of warning. "The banana peels are carefully placed/so keep your shell toes carefully laced".
The old school/new school fusion of "Tr(n)igger" looks at both sides of the word 'nigger' and points a finger at black and white alike asking "You want to blame it on the government on why you got no money for your rent?" and "Would Jesus Christ come back American? What if he's Iraqi and here again?"
Williams' cover of U2's "Sunday Bloody Sunday" breathes a desperate new energy into the old anti-war standard and Reznor's aggressive, static filled arrangement edges Williams' pleads with broken glass and razor blades.
The resulting track is an amazing reinvention of a worn out, overplayed masterpiece.
The track "Niggy Tardust" has a creeping synth line and a severe drum machine and synth loop that make the listener uncomfortable. Williams' includes a biting take on the typical 'call and response' aspect of performance.
"Scared Money" (with its straight up reggae feel) and "Raw" (with its stark simplicity) serve as disparate islands of respite in the roiling sonic ocean.
The chilling and beautiful "Banged and Blown Through" conveys a powerful sense of fatigue and hope with the pairing of harsh drums and a cold synth riff and gorgeous, ethereal strings (a device Williams' has used before to his advantage). "Conductor! Conductor! I feel electricity. Conductor! Conductor! Can you bring out the song in me?"
The album's closer, "The Ritual", is just that.
It's a ceremony, a challenge and a purgation all in one and it's a solid destination for the journey that is "The Inevitable Rise and Liberation of Niggy Tardust".

In the end, the album has less of a storyline than the title (and the album to which the title is referring) would lead you to believe and in that way it resembles Williams' first two albums.
Also like his first two albums, this is a collection of well thought out, elegantly worded vitriol aimed at every color in society.
Are the ideas brought up here brand new?
Will it bring about social upheaval?
Probably not, but at least there's an artist out there who actually seems to give a shit about something bigger than his car, his bling and his paycheck.

You can get the entire album for free (or in a higher quality format for a $5 donation), no strings attached, at www.niggytardust.com
Check it out.
It's fucking free.
You lazy assholes.

Saul Williams - Amethyst Rock Star

10.30.07
8:55 pm
Over the past few months, Trent Reznor has been working closely with Saul Williams on his new album, "The Inevitable Rise and Liberation of Niggy Tardust!".
They've "leaked" two tracks in anticipation of the release (11/1/07) and they are both exactly what you would expect from a Nine Inch Nails/Saul Williams collaboration.
I went back and relistened to Williams' first album, "Amethyst Rock Star", since the first time I checked it out it didn't really register with me and, upon a more thorough listen, I was fucking blown away.
Williams isn't a rapper, he is a beat poet.
What does that mean on an album?
First off, he holds a lot of disdain for the thug types and isn't afraid to call them out and tell how ridiculous they appear.
Also, his lyrics really are lyrical, they aren't just rhyming couplets.
They have a meaning that is lacking from most of the hip-hop and rap out there.
He's a bit like Zack De La Rocha but less preachy and repetitive and shrill.
The emotion he conveys is incredibly moving and entrancing as well.
It's raw and refreshing and worth taking note of.
Stand out tracks include "Penny for a Thought", "Robeson", "Fearless", "Om Nia Merican" and the amazing, epic, album closer, "Wine".
If you listen to rap or hip-hop and are tired of hearing about cars and bling, check him out, it's really powerful stuff.
To hear two of the Reznor produced tracks, go to www.nin.com.

Hmmm...

I've been watching the third season of the (American) Office and Ed Helms looks a lot like John Flansburgh.

Banana/The Best Day Of My Life

10.22.07
6:39pm

I just enjoyed a banana.
What a whimsical fruit, the banana.
The shape, the color, the peeling.
And it's the only fruit whose skin becomes a deadly booby trap when cast strategically on the floor.

So, last Wednesday was the best day of my life, thanks to both Megan Boggia and Bill Kates, respectively.
I could go into detail and geek out here, but since this is a VERY relative and esoteric "best day ever" and I already wrote a five page journal entry in regards to it, I won't.
I'll just sum it all up:
My friend Bill (XM dude) got me into a They Might Be Giants recording session at a studio downtown.
The first part of the day was them laying down elements on a new project they're doing, the next part was a ten song mini-concert for which the only audience was TMBG's producer, Pat Dillett, Bill and me and the final part was an excellent, informative, personal and hilarious interview conducted by Bill with John and John...and me, the tallest goddamn fly on the wall ever.
It was, seriously, one of THE BEST DAYS of my life.
Thank you Meg, thank you Bill, you have collectively rocked my boat xmax.

In other, SLIGHTLY less life-defining news, Ray and I have filmed something called "The Best Sandwich Ever!".
Last night at about 10 the theme song came out of my mouth and it didn't stop until around 4.
Luckily I was able to get a recording device in front of it.
Hopefully, we will be screening the film at the party on Sunday.
It will destroy you.
I guarantee.
So be there or remain intact, pussy.

Ridiculous

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZdsUMhUxM8w
Can ANYONE make out a fucking thing he is saying?