To Whom It May Interest, I’ve been simultaneously reading two books at once for the past month or so. One is a biography about Elvis Presley and his rise to superstardom. The other is “Mainlines, Blood Feasts & Bad Taste” by Philip Seymour Hoffman…er, I mean Lester Bangs. A couple weeks ago, I was paging through Bangs’ compiled ferocity and observation and found a review of Wire’s second opus, Chairs Missing . Direct quote from the man himself: “Wire. Think about that word and what it has meant in your life, perhaps even the lives of your ancestors. Then think just how hot you’d be hoppin’ to get a chance to hear a group whose sound might live up to such euphonious appellation! Wire. The Sound of the ‘70s. Flat. Dead. Dull. Thud. Mud. Plod. Sod. But mebbe with a whiplash on the counterstrike.” Now, having myself only recently opened the door to the wonderful world of Wire’s initial trio of recorded bliss, my reaction to the review was chockfull of “you don’t know what you’re ta...
So, here’s an interesting break from reviews and essays: I don’t really go into a lot of personal information on here, mostly because this blog is strictly meant for music-related musings. You know enough about me to know that I’m, by and large, a snob: very opinionated but also passionate. You know that I’m married and that I just moved into a house. What you don’t know is that my wife is 18 weeks pregnant. Now I know that there are many things that I’ll be dealing with and looking forward to after the baby’s born. I can’t wait to look into the baby’s eyes for the first time, I can’t wait to take it on walks, teach it to speak, make it laugh…all those “fatherly” things. But, me being me, I REALLY can’t wait till I can play the baby some Beatles records. Out of all those wonderful “firsts” that my wife and I will experience with our new baby, Beatles records is what I anticipate most. Today, the baby is 18 weeks along and developing ears. It can feel vibrations, but it will now...
Kid Congo Powers & The Pink Monkey Birds Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds The Electric Factory Philadelphia, PA 10.7.08 My friend, Jim, and I pulled into the Electric Factory parking lot around 7PM, about an hour before the show began. He’d heard that the show was sold out, so we wanted to make sure that a parking spot was claimed and that neither of us would have to stand in line for too long. After the necessary pat down and ticket rip, the both of us walked into the club while there was still breathing room, took a quick peek at the merch table and found our spots on the venue floor about fifteen feet from the stage. Around us you could see there were older moms and dads that probably got to see Nick Cave in his prime, young Gothic girls whose supple cups were plentiful and overflowing thanks to the magic of corsetry and guys clad in suits paying homage to Mr. Cave himself. Then you had people like me that fit with the t-shirt and jeans crowd, just there to see a show. Clear D...
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