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Over the last couple of weeks, I was very lucky to get to see three of my favorite bands as they made their way through western Massachusetts.  Of these three, I’d already seen two play in the past, but they’re shows worth seeing.

Let’s start at the Green River Festival in Greenfield, where Cake headlined a weekend of varied musical acts.  You might (might) remember when I saw them play four years ago in Worcester, and I can remember leaving the Palladium that evening vowing to see them again.

It's the Gui-tar Man!

As always, the Sacramento-based quintet delivered a great set.  Many of the old favorites were played, including “Ruby Sees All,” “Comanche,” “Wheels,” “Frank Sinatra,” “Short Skirt/Long Jacket,” and of course, “The Distance.”  They also played a couple of new tracks, which sounded like they follow the great Cake tradition.  John MaCrea was a bit more perturbed than usual, which can’t hurt the proceedings.  He’s happy that the band have their own label now, as he says, “The music industry… it’s all corrupt, all of it.”  He’s excited to release the new, 100% solar powered album, although he’s still unsure as to when it’s due out.  No matter, I’m on the email list.  As before, I have to recommend seeing these guys live if you ever get the chance.

... spare me the suspense.

On Friday, I high-tailed it to Northampton in an effort to see Interpol for the second time.  The first time around was a couple of years ago at the Aggnis Arena at Boston University.  This time, it was the Pearl St. Nightclub.  These guys are fully capable of carrying an arena, but a small room such as Pearl St. is truly the place to see them.

After the opening act from Twin Tigers (which featured a lead singer who looked like a young Rich Hall and a cute girl with goofy glasses on bass), Paul Banks took to the microphone and gave us a cordial “Good evening.”  From there they made the gutsy move of opening with the as-of-yet-unheard “Success,” following the band policy of using the first track from the current album to open the show.  We were all impressed, and enjoyed a killer set that would also include “Summer Well” and “Lights,” which will be on the new album, as well. Turn on the Bright Lights and Antics would get plenty of attention, but strangely enough, only “Mammoth” represented Our Love to Admire.  I had wondered how the band would perform without original bassist Carlos D, and the answer was “Quite well.”  Journeyman Dave Pajo took over for Carlos at those duties, and fit right into the puzzle.  Also, Secret Machines’ Brandon Curtis was on keyboards.  Curtis is a great fit for the band and I hope that they continue to work with him.

My favorite moments of the evening include Dan Kessler standing four feet from me on the edge of the stage, Paul looking right at me during the chorus of “PDA” (I swear to God, he did), the smile on his face at the audience’s ferocious approval, and Sam Fogarino, liter of vodka in hand, thanking us at the end of the night.  Classy gents; Interpol forever.

The test begins... NOW

The next night, it was off to Holyoke for my long-awaited meeting with the Flaming Lips.  I’d been looking forward to seeing the Lips play in concert for YEARS.  Finally, it was time to see Oklahoma City’s favorite sons.

Now, I’m going to have to level with you… this show was spectacular.  Everything people say about Lips shows is true.  It’s over the top.  It’s a ton of fun.  There’s all sorts of freaks there, and it’s a big ol’ party.  But something tells me that I might have enjoyed this show more a few years ago.  Why?  To be completely honest, it’s because Embryonic hadn’t been recorded yet.  Now, don’t get me wrong: last year’s double album was an incredible effort that pushed the Lips in new directions of experimentation… and that’s saying something.  But the difference between Embryonic and the previous decade’s work is the fact that the newest offering is, for the most part, a downer.  What made albums like The Soft Bulletin and Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots appealing was the fact that they were fun and optimistic.  Embryonic is a great album, sure, but only a scarce few of the songs aren’t spooky or depressing.  I mean, no “Race for the Prize?”

This does not hurt the fact that the band absolutely ROCK live.  You could remove all of the massive balloons, video screens, confetti cannons, giant laser-hands, and Wayne Coyne’s space bubble and still have a great time because these guys play loud and heavy all the time. No one is safe when Michael Ivins is cranking his bass and Kliph Scurlock is thrashing on the drums.  Steven Drozd, thankfully clean and sober these days, is loving life more than ever with this band, and Wayne gives us all plenty to be happy about.  In fact, during one of his conversations with us between songs, he got me a little teary eyed talking about loving one another and all that happy hippy shit.  I didn’t bother to stick around after the show to meet him, but my mission to someday give Wayne Coyne a hug is not off.

There are plenty of great memories from this show.  For one, I tried to send a voice mail to my sister when we all sang “Happy Birthday” (seeing as how it was the day before), but her phone rings something like 10 times before her “machine” kicks in, so we were done by the time it was over.  Also, when the set was over, Wayne informed us that a girl in the audience had “a bad reaction to the strobes” and asked us all to be “peaceful” while we waited for the encore.  And of course, seeing Darryl, Dani, Corey, Chris, Pete, Brit,  Tess, and the rest of the Fitchburg crew was well worth it.

So there you have it.  Now that my hearing is coming back, it’s time to look for some more shows to go see.  Hello, Cleveland!

I recently started playing guitar again.  It’s always been an on-again, off-again thing for me.

One of the major reasons I pick the instrument back up is hearing someone new and thinking, “What the heck is this guy/gal doing?”  After enough listening, you end up looking up guitar tabs, and before you know it, you’re getting yourself in tune and playing along.  The last guitarist who managed to do this to me was Jamie Hince of The Kills, who I first heard about a year ago.  Googling him will probably bring up more pictures of girlfriend Kate Moss than anything else.

Hince with Ms. Mosshart

The Kills are a duo made up of himself and the smoldering Alison Mosshart, and the dynamic between them seems to be one of one-upmanship.  The obvious contrasts/comparisons to the White Stripes aside, it’s dingy and dirty garage blues with restrained augmentation.  The heart of their sound is shared, snarling vocals and Hince’s furious attack on the guitar.  Over the course of their three-album (so far) career, the use of drum machines and synths have made their way into some furious tunes, but always as an accompaniment and never a distraction.

Jamie doesn’t do much of anything new per se, but his execution is what piques my interest.  What makes him appealing to me is that he seems to be screwing around with his guitar from time to time, looking for what sounds right and plugging away at it, whether it sounds perfect or not.  Healthy doses of distortion fill it out, but like the synthesized instruments they use, even the fuzz box is only an accessory to the instrument.  He’s also fond of drop-tuning, which gives the sound some extra balls.  This is all evidence of a guy who knows how to get what he wants out of his instrument, and I always admire that.

As a result of listening to The Kills, I have been spending more time with my old bootleg Stratocaster.  Sometimes it’s not just what you’re playing, but the way you’re playing it.  Jamie Hince is one guitarist who exemplifies this concept.

Here’s the video for “Last Day of Magic,” which is pretty cool if you ask me.

(If you laughed at that title, you went to high school with me.)

Last weekend, I had the privilege of spending time with this handsome devil:

The camera loves him!

That’s Jake, and he’s a true gentleman.  I stayed at his wonderful home and took care of him while his family was out of town.  We hung out, shared sandwiches, went on long walks, and had introspective conversations about weather, women, and wine.  I guess you can say that he helped me become a dog person in a short amount of time, and sealed the deal by saying goodbye to me when I checked up on him for the last time.

Here’s a chat log with friend and newly-minted blogger Caitlin.  I have sunk to a new low by copy/pasting from instant messaging, but it’s good material.  Don’t judge me.

Me: i’m jake’s best friend now, as it seems
i stopped by the house to check up on him one more time, but his family had gotten back already… he came and said goodbye when i left
Caitlin: no.
he is yours.
as dogs are.
Me: i stand corrected
Caitlin: you could lock him in a closet for a week and he’d be happy to see you when you let him out.
just like me.
Me: true
i’ve never had a dog before. i think i could warm up to ‘em.
he was like a canine representative
Caitlin: Really? you haven’t lived.
you haven’t ever loved or been loved in return until you belong to a fog.
dog*
(that would have been much more epic had I been paying attention while typing)

I have no intention of belonging to Mel Tormé, especially seeing as how he’s dead, so I’m glad we cleared that typo up quickly.

The other night, my good friend Dean emailed me something that I had almost forgotten about.  Back when I was in college, I had a strange dream about a scavenger hunt, a missing car, and a psychic vampire.  It was all so utterly absurd that I had to not only write it down, but turn it into a screenplay.  And so, a day or two after recalling it for some reason, Dean finds it on his hard drive and sends it to me.  Funny how that works out.

And so, here it is.  I haven’t edited it or anything, and it seems to end abruptly.  I think that’s when I woke up.  And by the way, have a happy birthday tomorrow, Dean!

The other night I found myself staring five leftover Independence Day hot dogs in the face.  I wanted to eat them all, but I knew that I could do something more with them than just the usual.  In a few minutes, it was like a Top Chef Quick Fire Challenge.  I got a little experimental, and it led to this:

Nothing can prepare you for what's in store.

(In case you’re wondering, these are all beef Hebrew National dogs.)

#1 – The Italian Grinder Dog:  This hot dog is wrapped with provolone cheese and Genoa salami, topped with sharp, creamy mustard.  As can be expected, this one was pretty tasty.  I figured it would be a good place to start.  I would not suggest making a whole mess of these and eating them all at once, though, as I’m sure that would pose some sort of problem down the line.

#2 – Wasabi Dog:  In honor of the ever-determined Takeru Kobayashi, I dressed this one with some wasabi paste.  The result was a killer of a dog.  I could eat these more often.  Next time, I will probably add soy sauce (not a lot, just enough to flavor the inside of the bun).  You might find it strange, but I think it works.

#3 – Roasted Red Pepper Dog:  No need for dressing, just a few peppers did the trick.  I liked it, but I put the peppers on straight out of the fridge.  Next time, I will have to heat the peppers and the dog.  Not sure if heating them up together is the trick here.

#4 – Whole Seed Dijon Mustard Dog:  Okay, so I started to come up dry on the ideas at this point.  I just noticed a new mustard in the fridge and wanted to try it.  So what?  The mustard was really quite good.  The seeds gave it the texture of a poppy seed bagel, almost.  Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that.

#5 – The Control Dog:  The final dog was just the way I like it: with Kosciusko brown mustard.  I’ve been in love with that stuff for years.  It was sort of a measuring stick against the rest.  In all honesty, why mess with success?

Polish it off with a nice cold Corona Light.  Mmmm… now that’s the stuff.

Not too long after quietly re-establishing the link there, THE AUTHORS have gotten back to work after a long hiatus.   I speak of course, of Pokey the Penguin!  Smashing!

YES

Just as weird as always, I guess, and it still makes me laugh.

Guess what, America?  Amid all of the parades, pool parties, and fireworks displays, there’s a party going down in one of the happiest corners of the Earth, New York’s Coney Island.  Just like last year, I’m going to do my best to caputre the event as I see it.  Can Joey Chestnut continue to do his nation proud on her 234th birthday, or will a new champion rise?

Fun fact: 669.25 hot dogs were eaten in total by all of last year’s competitors.

Hail to the King.

11:58:  Started this.  SportsCenter is showing the first of the pre-game material.  Joey Chestnut is, of course, the favorite, and they showed him limbering up by massaging his esophagus.  Have you EVER heard someone talk about massaging an esophagus?  Anyway, seems that Kobayashi is NOT going to be competing this year.  Something tells me that this is a fake-out.  Then again, I refused to believe that Eddie Guerrero was dead and I thought it was all a ruse to bring him back at WrestleMania.  Then he’d have come out in the middle of the thing and go up to whoever he was feuding with at the time and go, “Thought I was dead, right?  Well guess what, homes?  I lieeeeed!”  That never happened, he was actually dead.  But I digress.

12:03:  Kobayashi is at a “labor impass” with the competitive eating people.  Seeing how much they’re talking about this, I think they’re working up to a last minute swoop-in by Kobayashi.  They just had a graphic comparing Michael Phelps’ daily intake to Joey’s 68 dogs from last year.  Joey ate more than twice the calories Mike did.

12:07:  Heinz is, once again, sponsoring this shindig.  Last week I received the greatest interpretation of the “no ketchup” rule.  “Never put pureed tomato on pureed meat.” – Caitlin Sullivan

12: 11:  The guys and gals just got off the bus.  I love that they get a police escort.  Joey looks confident as ever, but not cocky.  This crowd is absolutely enormous.  I thought last year was huge, but this is ridiculous.  And they brought vuvuzelas.  Tim Janus and Pat Bertoletti are my picks as Joey’s real competition.

12:15:  ESPN 3D ad.  Can you imagine this event in 3D?  I’d rather not.

12:17:  I missed the number to text whether you think the record will fall today.  I think it will, because I think it’s been broken every year for the last five or six years.  Oh, there’s a graphic… It’s pretty close to it.  I guess two years ago there was a dip, probably because of the legendary “eat off.”

12:19:  Piece on eating techniques.  ”Tokyo Style” vs. “The Bean Bag.”  Tokyo Style is when you separate the bun and the dog, dunking the bun while you chow the dog.  Remember, you can only dunk for five seconds.  I’d hate to have a controversial dunking penalty stand in the way of a new record, like a close call at first on the 27th out of a perfect game.  Bean Bag is when you do the jump-up-and-down thing Joey does.

12:23:  There’s a new guy by the name of Bob Shoudt who has apparently beaten Joey a few times in the past year (in other events, not hot dogs).  Intriguing.  He doesn’t look like a threat, though.

12:25:  The eaters will be making their way down “The Gauntlet” on their way to the stage this year, getting up close and personal with the fans.  Very nice.  I just hope they all get escorts so as not to slow things down.  This shit’s got a schedule to keep.

12:30:  I hear Thomas Dolby, and that means it’s time to start introducing the competitors.  Crazy Legs Conti looks like he’s just happy to be there.  Dude’s not in it to win it anymore, but without him, it just wouldn’t feel the same.  Some guy with a mannequin head.  Badlands Booker is already sweating through his shirt.  I love how they make Sonya “Black Widow” Thomas out to be evil.  Fran says “This is the only time she eats, I think.”  Pat Bertoletti is awesome.  Tim Janus is ready.  Joey is looking pumped, “Baba O’Reilly” once again.  That belt gets nicer every year.  Looks like it’s actually worth something now.  The crowd is going NUTS.  This is going to be nothing short of epic.

12: 42:  Kobayashi is in the crowd!  I feel like they’re coaxing him out of there.  He looks like he’s going to an AFI concert.

12:43:  UNDERWAY!  Joey is just going for it right out of the gate.  Crazy Legs is wearing the Snorricam this time.  Joey is in the lead after a minute by 3.  Now 4.  Janus is doing a helluva job.  Black Widow’s technique requires a warning before they cut to her, I think.  2. 5 minutes in, Joey’s still got the lead.  Sonya’s closing in on the top 3.  Bertoletti’s pacing himself but he hasn’t been in the running thus far.  Joey’s doing 7.5 DPM (Dogs Per Minute) right now.  Bertoletti’s in 3rd after 4 minutes.  Looks very very hot down there, hope this doesn’t pose a problem.  Joey’s slowing down a bit.  Not on pace for 70 halfway through… but he could still pull it off.  Kobayashi is still looking intense in the crowd.  Those judges are right in the blow-zone.  Joey’s got a 9 dog lead on Janus with 4 minutes to go.  He’s just plowing through.  Janus is doing his best… maybe a little too good.  Some just came out of his nose.  Shake it off, Tim!  Lots of chants for Joey.  About a minute to go, and it’s no contest.  Joey just needs to coast.  ”Barring a reversal” he’ll walk away with it.  Wait, there he goes!  He’s bringing it on home!  It’s over!

12:53:  Joey starts chugging the Pepto.  Gotta say, without Kobayashi, this was kind of boring.  No head-to-head, down-to-the-wire action.  Final tally gives Joey 54, Janus 45, and Bertoletti 37.

12:57:  Post-meal interview,  Joey says he didn’t drink enough water and he was feeling a little dehydrated.  On Kobayashi: “If he was a real man, he’d be on the stage.”  OH SNAP.  You gonna take that, Kobayashi?  Are you?

Well, good show all around, but it was missing that edge-of-your seat feeling.  But where else can you do this?  Where but in America?  Nowhere.

EDIT:  Kobayashi was arrested after the competition!  Go check it out for yourself. He still has that Gary Oldman in The Fifth Element look to him.

Back on YouTube.  Feels good, man.

Now that ESPN’s broadcast of The Kobe Show (aka their coverage of the NBA Finals) is over, the American sports world can turn their eyes to the World Cup.  I know that most of my readers really don’t care about soccer, but I’ve seen a change in the way people look at the game in recent years.  There’s a long way to go, but I really think that Americans are getting more and more interested.  Or at least they’re thinking about it.

It’s understandable why soccer doesn’t really get people going here.  It’s different.  For one, It’s straightforward.  The object, of course is simple, but the way things are approached are free of unnecessary trappings.  You just can’t touch the ball with your hand and you can’t take the ball while offside (for advanced fans only).  We’ve put many silly rules into American sports, and as fans, we have an encyclopedic knowledge of them.  See: the Three Second Rule in basketball, or anything the NFL invents during the offseason to make the next version of Madden more than just a roster update.

Another thing that I love about the game is the way things flow.  It’s very similar to baseball in the respect that when you go to or watch a soccer match,  you are in for an experience that requires you to see it from beginning to end.  It’s like a play or a movie.  You’ve got the first act, an intermission, and then a second act.  You have no real stoppages; the clock is always ticking (upwards, mind you) so you know that there’s an actual 90 or so minutes to be played, without breaks.  It makes American sports look like clip shows.  I’m not saying soccer is superior or something, I’m just saying… it’s different.  And that’s part of why I love it.

Donovan: Stylin' on you.

So here in the World Cup, you’ve got the American team fighting for more than just respect.  Watching Team USA play so far this tournament I’ve seen a team that is fully capable of going deep in the knockout stages.  Their tactics are sound, they take risks that end up paying off, and they trust one another.  Barring bad luck calls here and there (the recalled goals against Slovenia and Algeria, primarily), they’ve actually played better than most teams in the tournament.

The great thing about all of this is that it shows that the United States Soccer Federation’s hard work is paying off.  In 1994, when we hosted the World Cup, the USSF kicked off a plan that would theoretically culminate in the US winning the World Cup in 2010.  On the way, the MLS was created, soccer academies sprung up across the nation, and a few recognized world-class players have emerged.  Last summer, we defeated the European champions from Spain and nearly defeated Brazil in the Confederations Cup.  The face of the American program, Landon Donovan, has finally settled into his role as the leader and sparkplug of the team.  Look no further than yesterday’s emotional game and group winning goal to see how far we’ve come.  I’m getting a feeling like this is the 1980 Olympic hockey team all over again.

And one more thing… the finalists in the last World Cup, France and Italy, have not qualified for the Round of 16.  With that and the fact that England and Germany play one another right out of the gate, the new Impossible Dream could indeed come true.

I couldn’t find my nail clippers this morning.  I searched the house to no avail.  Looks like “Go to CVS” has just been inserted between “Coffee” and “Work” on the to-do-list.

I pulled into the CVS parking lot and positioned my car to strategically pull back and out onto the street in the shortest amount of time possible.  Upon entering the drugstore, I came to the realization that I don’t know where the nail clippers are supposed to be.  I just envisioned myself picking them up and paying for them… not actually looking for them.  I scanned the store, trying to think of where they’d be.  I got a sinking feeling when I realized that this is going to involve looking at other nail-related products, which I can’t distinguish from ordinary makeup and hair dye when I’m rushing about.

After approximately ten minutes real time (forty minutes in “they’re watching me look at women’s products, I know it” time), I found the nail clippers wedged into the furthest corner of the store possible.  I grabbed a pair and headed to the front of the store, where there’s a line forming.  Always my luck, no matter when I go or what I need from CVS, there’s always something holding up the proceedings.  Meanwhile, this guy was buying a bunch of gummi worms or something and he saw that I’ve just got a pair of nail clippers in my hand.  I assume he’s going to let me go ahead of me, but he doesn’t bother to say anything.  That’s probably because I’m still wearing my sunglasses and he’s afraid to look me in the eye, only to see himself staring back.  “It’s a nice day out there, and what am I doing?  Buying gummi worms again?  What have I done with my life?”

Gummi Worm Man let me go ahead of him when I finally turned to him and asked if it was okay to go to the newly opened cashier.  I gladly paid her in cash and handed over the Extra Care card my mother let me borrow once and I never gave back, allowing us both to rack up points for Good and Plenty and Twizzlers.  I also donated a dollar to ALS research.  This made me feel good.

As the cashier hands me my change, I look down and notice a bucket full of nail clipper keychains.

You got the mythril nail clippers! A winner is you!

Nails clipped and ready to go.  Time to practice that guitar.