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(10/19/01 3:50am)
In a few weeks, I'll be driving up to South Bend to visit one of my old undergraduate roommates. It's been more than two years since I've seen Chad, and a lot has happened to both of us in the last 29 months.\nWell, that's not entirely true. Nothing has really happened to me. I'm still the same wiener I always was, and I'm still drifting in a sea of confusion and aimless, uh, drifting. But Chad, yeah, a lot has happened to him. Namely that he had a baby.\nChad's son, Dustin, was born a couple months ago. I can't wait to meet the little tyke, because it's important that he meet a Who fan as early as possible, or else he might grow up funny. I also want to slap Chad upside the head for being such a doofus. I mean, having a baby? Why not just go to prison or forfeit your paychecks for the next 22 years?\nI remember what it was like to live with Chad. When there were four of us squashed into a tiny apartment, he could barely clean up after himself. When I asked him if he would mind cleaning the toilet -- at that point there was moss growing on the rim -- he responded by saying that he didn't mind it being icky because he had "a high tolerance for filth."\nAnd Chad's not the only old friend of mine who has a new baby. Josh, my editor from a newspaper in North Carolina, recently welcomed a son into the world. He and I are the same age, and when I picture myself having a baby right now, I just shudder.\nNevertheless, many of my friends are indeed having offspring, and more of them are getting married. Another one of my roommates got married a couple years ago. And my younger sister is getting married next July. (I've already been told that I have to shower and trim my beard for the ceremony. I also apparently will have to wear a tuxedo. The last time I wore a tux was my junior prom in high school, and I'm still in therapy over what happened as a result. I won't go into details, so let's just say it involved copious amounts of toilet paper.)\nSo why is everyone else settling down into a life of normalcy while I'm still picking my nose and waiting for something resembling a life to fall in my lap? The answer is multi-faceted.\nFirst of all, as I mentioned above, I am, in fact, a wiener. My life revolves around "Futurama" and Dairy Queen. I am intimidated by the opposite sex, so much so that I have been known to break out into hives if I get within 10 feet of estrogen. And, alas, I am a New York Islanders fan. \nI also know that I am goofy-looking (I mean, come on, just look at my little picture here. I look like I belong on the back of a milk carton), and I know that I am just plain weird.\n So I almost view the fact that I am single and childless as inevitable and expected. I also see it as a good thing, because at this point, I really shouldn't be responsible for anyone other than myself.\n I'm not proud of that; in fact, I am embarrassed by it. While most of my friends and siblings are developing into mature, responsible adults who can maintain relationships and raise children, I'm just screwing around and doing nothing important. \nAnd that really scares me. It makes me wonder what I've been doing for the last three decades, and it makes me wonder if I can expect anything different in the years to come. These are supposed to be the best years of my life, but if I'm wasting them, what does that say about my future potential?\nBut then again, maybe I'm just worrying too much. Maybe I'll start doing important stuff sooner or later. Maybe. But one thing's for sure:\nDustin's gonna love the Who.
(10/12/01 3:45am)
Earlier this week, I contemplated writing my column about the whole Osama bin Laden thing. I figured I had put it off long enough, and I was starting to feel goofy because practically every other IDS columnist had already written about how war is good, or war is bad, or Afghanistan stinks, or the United States is cool.\nBut I decided not to babble about my opinion, mainly because I know I really don\'t have anything to add to the debate. Everything has already been said, and other columnists have already looked like either heartless, hawkish, ethnocentric goons who want to bomb the bejeezus out of Afghanistan or wimpy, idealistic, pacifist whiners who\'ve smoked way too much pot.\nAnd to be honest, I haven\'t really been paying too much attention to the whole thing anyway. Whatever I wrote would be repetitive or misinformed, or both. (Not that my columns aren\'t usually repetitive or misinformed.)\nMaybe I haven\'t paid attention because I\'m anti-social or selfish or introverted or whatever. Seriously. It\'s football season. That\'s all I really need at this point. The NFL provides me with enough gratuitous violence. I don\'t need to watch a war, too.\nI\'m also not paying attention to the whole bin Laden thing (I call it that because it kind of rolls of the tongue. Well, at least my tongue, anyway) because it all just makes me angry.\nOsama bin Laden makes me angry because he\'s basically just another spoiled rich brat with too much time on his hands. He claims to speak for the regular, Middle-Eastern Muslim, but my guess is he has no idea what\'s it\'s like to be a regular, Middle-Eastern Muslim -- poor and powerless. He should try actually working for one day in his life.\nAnd speaking of spoiled rich brats, President George W. Bush makes me angry because, despite all the fervent patriotism, he\'s still a doofus who\'s watched way too many John Wayne movies. All I have to say is, thank God for Colin Powell.\nAnd it makes me angry that the whole country loves Rudy Giuliani now despite the fact that he\'s an egomaniacal, limelight-loving, vindictive little man with fascist tendencies. We residents of the Empire State know him for what he really is -- a petty dictator. Three more months my butt.\nAnd speaking of all things Empire, it really makes me angry that all of these Hoosiers around me suddenly care so much for New York. Before Sept. 11, many folks in Indiana thought New York City was a dirty, hedonistic, East Coast city full of slippery lawyers, weasely businessmen, scary minorities and those dirty rotten Knicks. But not now. Nope, Hoosiers just love New York now. Let\'s all give Latrell Sprewell a big hug.\n It also makes me angry that Big Business wasted no time cashing in on the massive amount of death and destruction. Within a week all sorts of companies were running commercials espousing their love for America and expressing sympathy for the victims and their families. Whatever. Those board presidents, chief executive officers and other assorted MBA clowns don\'t give a crap about anything except making money. The tragedies of Sept. 11 are just another vehicle for doing so. Hell, to them the terrorist attacks were better than the Super Bowl.\nSo that\'s why I don\'t want to write about the whole bin Laden thing. It just makes me angry and cynical, and the last things I need in my life are more anger and cynicism. I get enough of that watching the Dolphins choke every year.
(10/04/01 4:54am)
No, this is not a remake of the classic Iggy and the Stooges album from the early 1970s. Quite the opposite, in fact. Instead of the Stooges' distorted, wailing guitar noise, there's a laid-back yet invigorating acoustic fare from Scott Johnson (lead vocals and rhythm guitar), Nicolas Nguyen (guitars and bass) and Tramp (fiddle and mandolin).Yes, that's right, Tramp. As if the rock world needed another lame, one-word name.\nAnd there's yet another gimmick -- the CD's sleeve is made out of hemp. It's true. The band even urges listeners to "use it." Far out, man. \nAnd the music? Eh, we can take it or leave it. Fun House represents Bonepony's third release, and the band's first live CD. Recorded at concerts in Tennessee, Kentucky and Pennsylvania, much of Fun House is run-of-the-mill, happy-go-lucky acoustic-rock niceness that, at the very least, won't put you to sleep.\nThe album works best when Tramp (how come I shudder every time I use that name?) is displayed prominently, giving the music a strong and effective Celtic feel. Still, even on that count, there are better bands out there. (Three words: Great Big Sea).\nThe album's high and low points come with the same song, the 10-minute-plus "Feast of Life." The cut is a smorgasbord of styles and influences; the band wisely appropriates a portion of Johnny Cash's seminal "Folsom Prison Blues" to liven up the thing.\nThe low point comes when, well, the song drags on for 10-plus minutes. What are we, Blues Traveler? I don't see any big fat guys with harmonicas, do you? It's not that Bonepony is a bad band. They're certainly better than three-quarters of the junk being played on popular radio today. \nBut then again, that's not setting the bar very high, either. I'll take Iggy any day.
(10/04/01 4:00am)
No, this is not a remake of the classic Iggy and the Stooges album from the early 1970s. Quite the opposite, in fact. Instead of the Stooges' distorted, wailing guitar noise, there's a laid-back yet invigorating acoustic fare from Scott Johnson (lead vocals and rhythm guitar), Nicolas Nguyen (guitars and bass) and Tramp (fiddle and mandolin).Yes, that's right, Tramp. As if the rock world needed another lame, one-word name.\nAnd there's yet another gimmick -- the CD's sleeve is made out of hemp. It's true. The band even urges listeners to "use it." Far out, man. \nAnd the music? Eh, we can take it or leave it. Fun House represents Bonepony's third release, and the band's first live CD. Recorded at concerts in Tennessee, Kentucky and Pennsylvania, much of Fun House is run-of-the-mill, happy-go-lucky acoustic-rock niceness that, at the very least, won't put you to sleep.\nThe album works best when Tramp (how come I shudder every time I use that name?) is displayed prominently, giving the music a strong and effective Celtic feel. Still, even on that count, there are better bands out there. (Three words: Great Big Sea).\nThe album's high and low points come with the same song, the 10-minute-plus "Feast of Life." The cut is a smorgasbord of styles and influences; the band wisely appropriates a portion of Johnny Cash's seminal "Folsom Prison Blues" to liven up the thing.\nThe low point comes when, well, the song drags on for 10-plus minutes. What are we, Blues Traveler? I don't see any big fat guys with harmonicas, do you? It's not that Bonepony is a bad band. They're certainly better than three-quarters of the junk being played on popular radio today. \nBut then again, that's not setting the bar very high, either. I'll take Iggy any day.
(10/01/01 3:52am)
Much of the crowd that turned out for comedian Dave Chappelle's performance Thursday at the IU Auditorium wanted to hear jokes about one thing -- pot.\nWhen the star of the pothead film "Half-Baked" asked the audience what people did for fun in Bloomington, he was answered by a resounding chorus of "weed!"\nBut in the end, Chappelle's funny but somewhat over-the-top performance largely steered away from marijuana humor.\n"Weed, weed, weed," he said. "That's all I hear. I can't escape it. It's everywhere."\nHe even acknowledged that he doesn't get high anymore.\n"I'm suffering long-term effects," he said. "That shit will catch up with you after a while."\nBy eschewing pot, Chappelle's performance wisely centered on other subjects, proving that he's not just a one-gag guy. Early in the show, he launched into a lengthy and frequently hilarious treatise on another of his addictions -- masturbation. Chappelle struck up a conversation with an audience member, who revealed that he did more studying than dating.\n"See, this guy gets good grades," Chappelle said. "Masturbation is good for your mind."\nHe said masturbation is a routine part of his life -- "I'm a married man. I have to masturbate once in a while to survive" -- and he asserted that "every guy in history jerked off." \nUnfortunately, much of Chappelle's performance relied almost too heavily on sexual and scatological humor, including his reluctance to perform oral sex on a woman and his assertion that America would never elect an attractive woman president because foreign leaders would always be hitting on her.\nSome of the routine, like his commentary on human-animal sexual relations, made you laugh -- and made you feel guilty for laughing.\n"Bad shit happens when you have sex with animals," he said.\nWhen he started discussing how sex with monkeys reportedly started the AIDS epidemic, Chappelle was treading the line between pushing the limits and going too far.\nThe latter half of his show was dominated by a bit in which he meets the devil in a strip club in St. Louis. The entire piece was abstract and obscure, and it often slowed to a crawl, killing any momentum Chappelle had going.\nOverall, Chappelle's performance was often funny, sometimes dull and once in a while revolting. In general, his warped humor clicked with the audience, but it also wasn't for the squeamish. His performance made you wonder where he comes up with this stuff -- and whether he can be a little more creative than just sex and drugs.
(09/20/01 5:15am)
For the last week or so, I have generally avoided reading or watching too much coverage of the terrorist attacks on New York and Washington because it generally made me angry or depressed, or both. It is hard enough coming to grips with what happened without a sensationalized media running images of body bags and people jumping out of the World Trade Center.\nQuite simply, it all became overwhelming, and I realized that if I got caught up in it too much, I would become stuck in an emotional and spiritual morass that would have jaded my thinking and darkened my view of the world. In terms of recovering from tragedy, the development of such an outlook is neither healthy nor productive.\n So to avoid it all, I've been trying to find ways to divert my attention, to lighten things up. If you're feeling anything like I am (and I'm sure there's lots of such people out there), you might want to try this stuff, too:\n 1) Listen to a lot of music -- I suggest soul, generally of the Stax/Volt variety. There's nothing like Sam and Dave pick you up out of a funk. You can also go with some straight-forward Stones, perhaps "Some Girls." Keith Richards is the key to happiness.\n2) Watch as much "Simpsons" as humanly possible -- Cartoons, man. Definitely the way to go. I sometimes wish I was a cartoon. Maybe "Receding Hairline Boy" or "Goofy Lookin' Guy."\n3) Find pets to play with -- The household in which I live has two dogs. They aren't mine, but they're friendly and lovable. Looking at things from a dog or cat's point of view -- all that matters is eating, sleeping and not pooping on the carpet -- can help you get things in perspective really quickly.\n4) Eat ice cream -- It's true that consuming such sugar-laden, fat-saturated dairy products are largely responsible for my Pillsbury Doughboy physique, but I'll take the mental tranquility that comes with cookies and cream any day. This item segues nicely into...\n5) Go to the gym -- You can work off all the ice cream and release some frustration while you do it. Don't worry about being sore the next morning -- physical pain is fleeting, grasshopper, but spiritual renewal lasts forever.\n6) Watch some football this weekend -- This needs no explanation. I mean, duh, it's football.\n7) Get caught up on your classwork -- This is a radical concept, I know, but studies have shown that there is actually a correlation between completed homework and good grades. No, really, it's true.\n8) Call your parents and conduct an actual conversation -- As it turns out, parental units do actually have some pretty good advice and words of wisdom. Just make sure to avoid the "So, will I ever have a grandchild?" question.\n9) Rent dopey movies from the 1980s -- My personal recommendations are "Weird Science" and "Weekend at Bernie's." We're talking Anthony Michael Hall and Andrew McCarthy. What's not to like?\n10) Appreciate great literature -- Stuff like "Jane Eyre," "The Scarlet Letter" and "Macbeth." Oh, wait, I said GREAT literature. Never mind.\nIt's true that pursuits like these won't make all our problems go away, and they shouldn't; we all have to face our fears and frailties. But it's a whole lot easier knowing that great stuff like soul music, "The Simpsons" and Ben and Jerry's exist.\nAnd don't forget Kelly LeBrock in her underwear.
(09/13/01 5:10am)
Boston native Michelle Willson has always been able to channel the spirits and styles of her musical forebears -- from Bessie Smith to Sarah Vaughn to Phoebe Snow.\nAnd on \"They Don\'t Want Me to Rock No More,\" the third track from her fourth Bullseye/Rounder release, Wake Up Call, she does a dead-on impersonation of late-1950s rockers Ruth Brown and LaVern Baker. With a five-piece band backing her up, Willson makes the song jump and crackle with the same energy that fueled the glorious eruption of rhythm and blues 45 years ago.\nOn the rest of the album, Willson slips from smoky, beguiling jazz (\"Leap of Faith\") to dirty blues (\"Just Like a Dog (Barking Up the Wrong Tree)\") to sexy funk (\"Wake Up Call\"). She also infuses a few Latin flavors along the way.\nAside from Willson\'s powerful vocals, the album\'s other strength is the guitar-work of Mike Mele, whose deft blues lick pick up the music whenever it\'s in danger of faltering.\nAlas, Wake Up Call isn\'t quite as good as 1998\'s Tryin\' to Make a Little Love (which did a good job of putting the listener in the mood for a little jellyroll, if you know what I mean). Still, Wake Up Call is another solid tribute to Willson\'s influences, who just happen to be some of the most important figures in American music.
(09/13/01 4:00am)
One of the greatest injustices in the history of American popular music is that zydeco remains a style on the fringes -- a form of Americana that has never broken through to mass popularity.\nSuch a crime has never been more apparent than when reviewing the career of Beau Jocque, born Andrus Espre. In the 1990s, he was on the verge of becoming the modern king of zydeco before suffering a fatal heart attack two years ago.\nThere's good reason for his success. Jocque was a master of melding different musical forms, including funk and R&B, with the traditional Creole sound. The brilliant results can be seen in his version of John Lee Hooker's "Boogie Chillun," which Jocque works into a ZZ Top-like rave-up, in a freewheeling, no-holds-barred covered of War's "Cisco Kid" and a laid back version of Dylan's "Knockin' on Heaven's Door," which shows the dying protagonist at peace with his fate.\nBoth of those tracks are on this best-of collection, as is Jocque's signature tune, "Give Him Cornbread," and other originals like "Going to the Country" and "Slip and Dip It."\nBut even more important than Jocque's musical sense is his willingness to let it all hang out, both in the studio and on stage, where, at 6'6", he presented an imposing, almost dark figure. The music is charged with an energy and vitality rarely seen in popular music today. Jocque's raw enthusiasm is even more satisfying given the fact that he had chronic back problems for much of his life.\nBeau Jocque is now gone, but his music remains as a testament to the power of American roots music and all the guts and glory it embodies. If each one of us lived life the way Jocque played music -- with an open heart and an open mind -- we'd certainly all be better off.
(09/13/01 4:00am)
Calling Wayfaring Strangers a bluegrass band is a little like calling Paul Simon a rock and roller. The term fits in a very broad sense but doesn't adequately describe the type of music the band produces. \nJust as Simon evolved into an eclectic musician who embraced folk, rock and world sounds, the Wayfaring Strangers have adapted a variety of musical styles -- including jazz, old-time country, folk and klezmer -- to produce a unique concoction on Shifting Sands of Time.\nTrue, if you had to pigeonhole the band -- which is led by musical director and strings player Matt Glaser -- you'd call them bluegrass. But from the opening strains of the album's first track, it becomes apparent that the Strangers are just as much a jazz band.\nUnderpinning the album is Jim Whitney's subtle bass and the old-timey sound of Tony Trischka's banjo. The singing duties are shared by a diverse group of voices, from the classic cowboy yodel of Ralph Stanley to the haunting vocals of Jennifer Kimball. In between are guest appearances by, among others, Lucy Kaplansky and Tracy Bonham.\nDescribing the resulting sound is somewhat difficult; think John Coltrane crossed with Chet Atkins. The music is sublime, so much so that the full effect doesn't really sink in on the first listen, or maybe even the second or third.\nAt times, the album drags, becoming a little too atmospheric for its own good. But overall, it's a refreshing shot of creativity and originality that more musicians in both jazz and country could take a lesson from.
(09/13/01 4:00am)
Boston native Michelle Willson has always been able to channel the spirits and styles of her musical forebears -- from Bessie Smith to Sarah Vaughn to Phoebe Snow.\nAnd on \"They Don\'t Want Me to Rock No More,\" the third track from her fourth Bullseye/Rounder release, Wake Up Call, she does a dead-on impersonation of late-1950s rockers Ruth Brown and LaVern Baker. With a five-piece band backing her up, Willson makes the song jump and crackle with the same energy that fueled the glorious eruption of rhythm and blues 45 years ago.\nOn the rest of the album, Willson slips from smoky, beguiling jazz (\"Leap of Faith\") to dirty blues (\"Just Like a Dog (Barking Up the Wrong Tree)\") to sexy funk (\"Wake Up Call\"). She also infuses a few Latin flavors along the way.\nAside from Willson\'s powerful vocals, the album\'s other strength is the guitar-work of Mike Mele, whose deft blues lick pick up the music whenever it\'s in danger of faltering.\nAlas, Wake Up Call isn\'t quite as good as 1998\'s Tryin\' to Make a Little Love (which did a good job of putting the listener in the mood for a little jellyroll, if you know what I mean). Still, Wake Up Call is another solid tribute to Willson\'s influences, who just happen to be some of the most important figures in American music.
(09/13/01 4:00am)
At this point, if you actually watch MTV you're either a) 12 years old, b) emotionally maladjusted or c) lobotomized.\nI hate to break the cold, hard facts to everyone, but it's true -- MTV is worthless, self-serving trash aimed at people with the mental capacity of a baboon. Straight up, yo.\nThat fact was never more apparent than at the channel's recent 20th anniversary "bash," which featured, as its headlining act, Kid Rock, a man (and I use that term loosely) with all the musical talent of a bowl of tapioca pudding -- perhaps even less.\nTo quote the immortal words of one Bart Simpson, "I didn't think it was physically possible, but this both sucks and blows."\nOf course, it's not as if MTV had ever been a shining example of modern mass communication. From the very beginning, it was geared toward teenagers with short attention spans and major disposable incomes (earned largely through hefty allowances from dumb parents like mine who, while thinking they were "bonding" with their kids, were actually providing them with the means to buy Dokken tapes. I should note here that I love my parents very much).\nBut in the 1980s, at least MTV played cool music. Have you ever actually listened to the Buggles? They're not that bad, especially compared with current sludge like Slipknot or Limp Bizkit.\nTwenty years ago, you could see a Who video on MTV. Granted, it was probably "You Better You Bet," which, compared to, say, "Baba O'Riley," was kind of lame. But does it matter? At least it was the Who.\nIn the 1980s, MTV also had a show called "Closet Classics," which played vintage videos from the early 1970s. Picture, if you will, the four members of Sabbath, standing on a platform and pretending to play "Paranoid." Ozzy is planted at the microphone, obviously stoned out of his mind, his long locks flowing as he bobs his head to the piped-in music. His fake vocals aren't even close to matching the track. Flashing in the background are huge, multi-colored pictures of bald women. Bald women, people. Does it get any better than that?\nSure it does! Just tune in to MTV late on Saturday night for "Headbanger's Ball," where impressionable little mushbrains like me can get their first taste of Slayer, Metal Church and Exodus. Or try out "Yo! MTV Raps" for some fly Public Enemy, Kurtis Blow or Run-DMC (minus, of course, those Aerosmith clowns).\nAnd what red-blooded, pubescent American male didn't fawn over Martha Quinn? Man, she had it goin' on. Not like these air-headed bimbos the network has now. And J.J. Jackson was The Man.\nBut that was then. Now, we are in hell. MTV hell. Today, the MTV daily rotation consists of about 20 videos filled with either mindless teen pop by girls with breast implants and boys without chest hair, or mindless, insipid (props to Morton Downey, another 1980s hipster) rap -- rock by boys with ugly tattoos and stupid earrings and backwards hats.\nOnce in a great while you might get some smooth, smokin' soul from Maxwell, Jill Scott or Alicia Keys, but the very next minute is another ballad from Elton John (who seriously needs to shut the hell up) or a mindless, cookie-cutter dance track from everybody's favorite, Madonna.\nWe are all responsible for this, because we're the ones who allow MTV to thrive and suck out the brains of our young people. That includes me, because it was my generation that first nurtured MTV and gave it life.\nIt is we who shoulder most of the blame for spawning Satan. We are the ones who pulled back the hair and saw 666 engraved on Damien's scalp. Yet we did nothing to stop it. We even encouraged it. For this, eternal damnation is indeed our fate.\nActually, I'd rather be in hell than up here. Satan is much less evil than Carson Daly.