A Unique Gentleman

For the last couple of weeks I have been working in a new house with a different individual than the ones I worked with during my first few months at the agency I'm currently employed by. It has been quite a "culture shock" experience adjusting to this new residence, which is a rat hole compared to where I was coming from.

So as to not break confidentiality, I will refer to the individual I'm working with as Roy. He is mildly mentally retarded and suffers from paranoid schizophrenia, which is more or less controlled by a bi-weekly Haldol shot.

He is one of the grumpiest people I have ever known, a hermit who would rather sit in the floor and listen to the oldies station on the radio all day long than literally anything else in the world. A chain-smoker, he fills the house with the putrid stench of stale tobacco and burns down no less than 3 packs a day. He drinks warm tea by the gallon and likes to call it his "liquid heroin". I don't think he's ever done any drugs, but he likes to make references to them as often as he can.

Roy has the foulest mouth of anyone I have ever known, and even though I have a high tolerance for not being offended by profanity, some of the things he was saying actually deeply offended to the point where I now insist that he no longer say them or I will ask for a transfer and no longer be his HTS. I guess the guy likes me, because he said he didn't want that to happen and he has not used the offending phrase again in my presence.

Roy has a couple of nasty habits. The most revolting is his penchant for picking the scab from a fresh sore that's on his arm and eating it (hope you weren't eating yourself when you read that). He gets very defensive if you call him on it, and will tell you to stop being so "nosey".

Not only does he have a taste for scab, he also picks his nose and eats the boogers. I've told him this can't be healthy, and when he gets angry at me for being nosey I tell him that it's my job to ensure that he stays healthy and that such dietary eccentricities can't be good for him. He could care less.

There are times when every few minutes he'll try to call someone on the phone and when he can't get ahold of whoever he's wanting to talk to he'll slam down the phone receiver and launch into a stream of loud, angry obscenities that would make Richard Pryor blush. Lots of name-calling and "n-word" labeling and an incredible combination of insulting curse words that is fascinating to witness. "Crack whore drug dealer," he might call one of the best friends he's got if he says he doesn't have time to talk to him right now (seeing as how Roy will probably call no less than 10 times in the course of an 8 hour shift, you can't blame the guy)...of course, he'll wait till the other guy has hung up on the other line before he starts spittin' out the hate. "If I was black he'd have time to talk to me." Very disturbing language that I would not tolerate from anyone without Roy's disabilities.

But he learned it all from people he'd lived in institutions with and you can't assume that he means anything more by it than a simple anger outlet. I'd rather him curse up a storm than be trying to hit me like some of these others are prone to do. I ain't in this racket to get myself hit, and I pity the fool that first lands one...

Now, back to Roy...there is one thing about him that absolutely fascinates me. He has the most comprehensive knowledge of pop/rock music, especially from the 60's & 70's, as anyone I have ever known in my life. He can tell you the name of the song, the name of the singer, members of the bands, name of the album it came from and name all of the other hits this artist might have had. He also knows a lot of music trivia, to the point that he can tell you that the noise in the break of Mungo Jerry's "In the Summertime" is a table saw being started and stopped, then started again. It's pretty obvious that they were shooting for the sound of revving Harley Davidsons, but if you know it's just a table saw you can tell that's what it is...

He's not sure whether it's a Hammond or Wurlitzer that's used on the prominent organ riff that flows through Billy Swan's "I Can Help", but he knows that it's his favorite thing about the song...

He likes to play air guitar to the lead solo at the end of Al Stewart's "Palace of Versailles" (from the Time Passages album that we listened to together one afternoon). He says, "I know this solo well. Watch my face...I play it like I'm pissed off"...and sure enough, when the guitar started shredding those high notes he looked so mad I thought he was gonna smash his air guitar and start tearin' up the place, like someone had just stolen his mug of liquid heroin. One of the greatest air guitar performances I have ever seen in my life.
He knows that Paul Revere was no longer a member of the Raiders when they had their hit with "Cherokee Nation".

He relates that when he first heard Alice Cooper's "School's Out" on his 8-Track, where it sounds like a tape jamming and getting eaten by the recorder, he thought his player had gone kaput on him.

Just the other day they had a trivia question on the oldies radio station we listen to all day long..."What 60's hit does it's author claim has a title straight from a book in the Bible...even a hint, it's from the book of Revelation?"...

"'Crystal Blue Persuasion' by Tommy James and the Shondelles" Roy quickly guessed.
I could not for the life of me remember ever reading those words in any translation of the book of Revelation I have ever read, so I told him that I thought that was wrong.

I thought it might be "Turn! Turn! Turn" by the Byrds (before I had that Revelation clue), but knew that the lyrics were from the Bible, but not the title.

I actually got through to DJ Ronnie Kaye with my guess of Barry McGuire's "Eve of Destruction", which turned out to be wrong, but I wasn't the first or only one to guess that song.

Ronnie played a couple more songs and someone finally had the right answer...it was...can you believe this?..

"CRYSTAL BLUE PERSUASION" by TOMMY JAMES AND THE SHONDELLS...!!!

If I'd only paid attention to Roy's gut instinct, we would have been going to see Cameron Diaz in some theater production that was in town and a 20 dollar gift certificate for the Harbor House steak joint. Would have enjoyed a slice o' prime from there, so it was with a slight degree of guilt that I found myself explaining to him how we would have won if I'd only listened to him.

Still, I do not think the words "Crystal blue persuasion" are in the book of Revelation, or any other book of the Bible, especially not in that order. Tommy James may have claimed they were taken from there, but he was full of it...

It's taking some getting used to, but this might be a good situation for me, working with Roy. There are some days when I think I won't be able to handle some of his less endearing traits for much longer. But then there are times when I admit I have fun with the guy.

For instance, he set up the recorder and microphones one day and I had brought my acoustic guitar. We set about recording an album's worth of songs that we were planning to call "Livin' With Roy". Had looked forward to doing some more after the weekend but by the time I got there Monday morning he had let his ex-girlfriend pawn it.

It's a sick reality, but there are people in Roy's life who exploit him...they come over in the hours when he's alone (that's when I, as his HTS, am not with him during 8 hours of the afternoon) and steal his stuff, eat his food, all kinds of stuff. There's not a lot i can do about it, but it angers me that there are such heartless people in the world.

Anyway, I'll keep you updated about how my relationship with Roy evolves, if it gets the chance.

As for the previous post...no, I did not see my blog's name on the "Explore Blogs" scroll (on the blogger main page) when I updated it last night.

Now what's that all about, Blogger?

I demand my blogs inclusion on BLOGS OF NOTE immediately to make up for not seeing it in the scroll.

I'm gonna have to get Roy on yer case.
You don't want that...trust me.

Just Testing

Testing to see if the blog shows up on the main page's "Explore Blogs" scroll when I post...
Vanity has me in it's clutches, I know.
And yeah, I'm gonna be pretty doggone P.O.'ed ifn' it doesn't...

Sigur Ros: Takk...Grateful Noises

Takk opens with an ambient piece that gently sets the stage for the ethereal music that follows. Conspicuously absent is the center-piece of Sigur Ros' otherworldly soundscapes, the voice of Jonsi Birgisson. Not to worry, though, as that high-pitched wailing glissando permeates the rest of the album.
It wasn't until I saw the band play live that I realized just how many of the unfamiliar sounds that fill their songs are actually Birgisson's vocal mannerisms. For some reason this made me appreciate their craft even more.
Those angelic utterances shimmer and shine in the background of most of these 11 songs and they turn into a most beautifully expressive musical instrument (even more so in light of the fact that the words are sung in a half-made up language, which would be difficult enough to comprehend if the 'real' language were English, but of course it's NOT...Icelandic, which is not exactly a required language course in most curriculums). So it doesn't matter what the lyrics may be about, it's sheer emotive force that propels these songs into the subconscious where they adhere as if super-glued to it...
In fact, I see that they are this very evening playing in Vancouver and if there were a way...if I were a wealthy man with lots of time on my hands...I'd like nothing more than to be there.
My initial curiosity in Sigur Ros was peaked by a Vanity Fair blurb that told of enraptured listeners captivated by the band's sounds to the point where they were actually fainting en masse...I didn't see that happen at the Denver, Colorado show I drove across three states to see, but the crowd was unanimous in the consensus that the performance was incredible.
If you have never heard Sigur Ros, may I please suggest that you click on THIS LINK and watch the video for the second track on the album, "Glosoli". I just watched it for the first time several moments ago and it's wonderous images are still resonating within. I don't normally like to associate a song with a video, but this one is so brilliant and well-conceived that it may stick for quite awhile.
The song itself blooms from minimalistic beginnings into the sound of light penetrating the darkness. Bright glockenspiel melodies give a music-box feel to the sustained wail of a bow drawn across the strings of a highly amplified electric guitar. Jonsi almost sounds as if he's weeping at times, singing at castrato pitch that noone over the age of 12 is going to be able to pull off...I don't know how he does it.
Of course, you're left clueless as to what he's actually saying, what sublime words that could be understood by mortal minds could produce such gut-wrenching vocal gymnastics. It soon ceases to matter, as you are assaulted by a wall-of-guitars that sound like the ghost of Kevin Shields paid a visit. With Jonsi's esoteric chanting repeating at the core the guitars reach for Nirvana but fall just short of heaven.
This is not yer typical Aerosmith kind of rockin', but it nevertheless IS rock, and the driving wind-up of "Glosolio" is made even more powerful and "rockin'" by the steadiness of the rhythm section.
Brian Wilson's muse, the one that gave him Pet Sounds and all those beautiful melodies, came out of retirement and inspired Sigur Ros to write some harmony lines in "Hoppipolla" that trump even the classic Beach Boys. A step up from the string quartet they used to excellent effect on their last album, ( ), "Hoppipolla" and other portions of Takk use a full orchestra, with even more majestic results.
Still the most jaw-dropping aspect of "Hoppipolla" and "Meo Blodnasir" is the way almost each "instrument" in the mix is Birgisson's voice, processed to various degrees, making up almost every sound heard in the track (besides drums, bass & glockenspiel). This is what I'd hoped for when I'd heard that Bjork's last album was going to be made up of only the voice. I wasn't all that impressed, though I don't guess I gave it a proper chance. Need to rectify that.
"Se Lest" has a children's lullaby quality to it that I confess I hear in much of their work. That's okay with me, as long as the results are this enchanting. I particularly like how at the end of the song the glock and vibraphones make way for the entrance of a brass band that is playing root chords that sound like a funeral dirge extracted from the life-affirming squeals that proceeded it. Then the brass sections transforms it into an "oom-pah" type "happy polka", decorated with flourishes from the orchestra. Even so, the sound of Jonsi's voice returns to usher us back into the last moment of the song before the brass came along, stretching it to the point of exhaustion, before dissolving into the lone strains of the orchestra aural lace...
A percussive rhythm made up of noises that sound like insects being crushed by marching boots is our first impression of track number 6, "Saeglopur" (gonna have to get used to individual song titles, having become lazy with the last album's untitled fare). The band rocks again midway through this song, and the snake-like bowed guitar dances with another etheral chanting session Jonsi has going on, to good effect. At some point you notice that the bowed guitar has morphed into that full orchestra that's been popping up on a batch of these songs. What this all leads up to is one of the most cathartic sections of music ever recorded in the digital medium. Once again it matters not a bit that you can't understand a bleedin' word, as the power of the music alone has excused any need for words to complement it. A rare event these days, but one that takes place every five minutes on this album.
The other day an internet community friend made the comment that a friend had told him he thought Sigur Ros sounded like the soundtrack to whale sex. My friend made sure he let it be known that he "loves Sigur Ros", but that he had to admit it was funny. I must say it is mildly humourous, but my response read like this: "Whale sex must be the most awesome thing on the planet". I believed that before I heard Takk, and I'm even more convinced now.
The lullaby quality returns full force in "Milano", so much so that if you close your eyes you can almost picture yourself walking into a young child's room, tip-toeing around her furniture so as not to waken her. The essence of child-like innocence permeates the air in this sound world, something about those pretty bells, how they chime, drifts my mind back to a memory from within the womb, happy as a clam, still in constant communion with my guardian angel who sings these prayers over my soul, ready to experience the world (again?)...
My inner child metamorphisizes into a slobbering, blubbering, crying fool when he hears these hope-filled songs. They remind him of things he's long forgotten, and he enjoys remeniscing. "Milano" takes it's time building into a powerful climax not once but twice (though I don't think such a thing is theoretically possible, since "climax" implies finality)...oh well, you know what I mean, and yeah, the second one is a little more powerful than the first (only just enough to notice). And by the time the whole thing winds down the greedy little inner child bastard is sated, assuming the fetal position and as happy as if he'd been given back the pacifier that he was so dependent upon as a baby...Good work, Sigur Ros. Another successful therapy session. I feel better already.
The mood takes on a slightly more ominous tone in "Gong", as a string quartet plays a Shostakovich-esque piece before the guitars join, all leading into the grand entrance of a steady drum pattern. More guitar-heavy than the previous songs, "Gong" casts a shadow upon the more optimistic sounds of the first seven.
Do you remember that beautiful theme song from Twin Peaks that was sung by Julee Cruise with music by David Lynch and Angelo Badalamenti? It was called "Falling". The introduction to the 9th and possibly most beautiful song on the album, "Andvari", is vaguely remeniscent of that haunting production.
"Andvari" utilyzes he orchestra to a greater, possible even more effective degree in this song, as goose-bump raising as any composed by Bach, Beethoven, Mozart, Chopin, et. al. Imagine the chords to the "Teenage Wasteland" section of the Who's "Baba O'Reilly" transmutated into strings, slowed down to an elegant crawl and all just bubbling under a surface marked off by the sound of violins milking that high note for every ounce of pathos it can get...
And it gets milked for a long, long time. If the first 5 minutes of the song hadn't been so rapturously hypnotizing we might not be as ready for the 3 minutes of repetition that ease us rather slowly out of the song.
And how do you follow that?
"Shushljott" attempts to do so by presenting a contrast to the peaceful parting strains of "Andvari". The tension builds until the music, for whatever reason, has to drop out for a few seconds before coming back in with the force of a tsunami wave. All the while Jonsi substituting Krishna's mantra with what sounds like a simple "You" and getting closer to bliss that way...
"Heysatan" concludes the album, with the return of the brass band, blowing solid chords to hang from the notes being played by guitar, bass and even a stray trombone from the brass section...A subdued finale, to be sure, kept interesting by the final series of vocal expressions inserted for surprise sake throughout. Somehow the melancholy sound that threatens to creep into the final strains of this wonderful album is barely staved off and you're left wanting to hear it all over again.
And trust me, this is an ALBUM, much more so than a "collection of songs" (though I think it works better as such here than it did on the last album)...for sure the individual songs have their own signature sounds, but the whole experience is so much more fullfilling when listened to as a whole.
That said, the "Glosolia" video I saw proved that this song can certainly stand up on it's own. No doubt all of them can, but I can't get used to the thought of hearing just a certain couple of songs off of the record...If I'm going to hear it, I want to hear it all, or at least as much of it as time permits.
Hate to jump the gun and proclaim Takk Sigur Ros best album yet...but...truth be told...it IS their best album yet.
I submit, for your enjoyment, this excerpt from a review of Takk written by another internet community friend who goes by the name of Maarts. He operates a music/CD store in Australia and trust me when I tell you that he has impeccable taste in music.


I can re-emphasise what JAC's sentimants are in regards to Takk by Sigur Ros...as this album spins yet again in my player, dissolving more of its intricate beauties and whirling it onto me, confirming my strong belief that this band is the band of the new millennium.

If Von was the sound of the echoes and the underground, Agaetis Byrjun the sound of the forest and air, ( ) the sound of water, fog and mist, then Takk is the river, the earth, nature and all the areas that yield growth and life. Takk's built around the same building materials as its three predecessors but the overall sounds are heavy with the sweet aroma of life- the raingiving clouds of strings surrounding the beds of percussion. Even those earlier mentioned 'humping' whales are represented in Jonsi's little shrieks amongst the dense textural patterns of wavelike music, if you will. Using a full complement of percussion (glockenspiel), guitars and piano, strings and ethereal loops/keys, it's the richest tapestry of sound the band has ever used.

I am simply unable to stop listening to this.

The thematic quality of these songs just is so grand, so big. With simple loops the band creates lullabies, to go on into Godspeed-built material that just is so symphonic, so cathedral-like constructed (Glosoli). Heart-tugging melancholical melodies (Svo Hljott) ripped open by feedbacked guitar, reaching for heavens undiscovered. The cri-de-coeur from Milano that is an epic in itself. Heysatan with its little brassband, playing at the corner giving you this homely feeling. Or Andvari that floats away on a sea of strings, to a clear blue and green sea, shimmering like a dream, taking you away, far, far away....

What really is impressive is how Sigur Ros not only builds the songs up but finishes them off with such delicacy that every track is like a three-course meal, every flavour so poised for a full and total satisfactory experience. No loose threads to be found.
This is their Pet Sounds. Now lets hope people will discover its value well before it's being classified as a masterpiece.

Kristy McNichol's Biggest Fan?

This is the kind of stuff you come across when you go snooping around in Kristy McNichol Fan Website guest books...

From: Brian [moneybags.provide.net]
Date: Fri Jan 14 01:28:07 2005

I love you

I told my parents when I first began to talk that where I come from nothing rusts. The earliest dream I have remembered all my life is that I came from inside the sun and came to this planet, and after that dream I used to try to catch the light that moved across the wall from automobiles that passed by and I truly believed the light could take me back where I was.

Now I know that is really true about myself since remembering September 1977

That was the day I discovered the process that enables changing anything in the past without disrupting the timeline, the ability to bring extraterrestrials and humans back from the past and alive in the present

I did not ever teach you anything except that I was in love with you daydream baby


You may wish to know what I was doing at a Kristy McNichol website...
The onset of senile dementia is my only reasonable excuse.

Pitch Black II: Sour Poison

While looking for some images of Mountain Dew's new spin-off, the delectably sour PITCH BLACK II, I found X-Entertainment's hilarious take on the "original" Pitch Black...
I was going to write about the superiority of the new incarnation over and above the less-tangy original, but I couldn't concentrate on the task at hand what with all the laughter brought on by these excerpts:

Yes, I've finally found it! When I first heard murmurs online of the impending arrival of holiday-themed Mountain Dew flavors, I told everyone I knew to stay away for a few weeks so I could lock myself in a calm, dark room so my heart wouldn't explode from excitement. This comes from a person who'd sooner drink the juices from your very ass than an eight-ounce can of Mountain Dew. I don't care if it's poison -- if it's limited edition and tied to Halloween, I'll drink it twice. If I can drink poison twice, it's not doing it's job.

LOL!

I gotta admit, it's not bad stuff. I expected to totally hate it, but it's way better than the regular Dew. Tastes like a more subtle cherry cola than a crazy graper to me; then again, I've sworn that red paper tastes like cherries in the past. It DOES.

Ha!

Mountain Dew's a friend of mine, he resembles Frankenstein.

So how can I expect to post about Pitch Black II and top that?
It cannot be done, I tell you.
For the record, I actually like regular Mountain Dew (and when I can stand the sweetness I sorta like Code Red...the cherry version). I didn't like the original Pitch Black, either. But being a connisseur of all things sour (comes with my disposition, I suppose), I have to be honest and confess that I quite enjoy the new, improved Pitch Black II.
But hey, I like all those Sour Slushes they've got at Sonic right now, too, and the grape variety happens to be my current favorite (tends to balance the sour with the sweet better than the others...man, you want to taste PURE SOUR, just try the sour cherry. Ouch!)...

things you do while waiting for the apocalypse

The Feral Kid, a well of wisdom out of Portland, Guam, has a few ideas for things you do while waiting for the apocalypse.

I need to keep my eye on this interesting blog...

Gratuitous Photos of Myself

I know, I know...you've been waiting patiently for me to post some pictures of myself playing the guitar and I've kept you waiting for a long, long time, tease that I am.
But never fear. Today is the day when your dreams come true.
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, this is ME.



I told you I was too cool for words. And to think, you thought I was only boasting...



Thumpin' on the 5-string bass like the Godzilla of rock and roll.



Just can't put down that sweet, heavy 5-string.



Strummin' and finger-pickin' Warty's 6-String Alvarez...new strings even!



I'm becoming very fond of this 12-string acoustic. Nice, full sound when yer lucky enough to keep her in tune...



The night being over, I hopped into the car, said a prayer for divine protection from the extremely dangerous OKC drivers, and headed home. Even while cruising at 70 MPH in the dead of the night, vanity kicked in and I found myself taking a picture of myself behind the steering wheel, the flash of the digital camera a shaft of illumination much like the effect of dry lightning.
I then laid the camera down secure in the knowledge that I'd have more than enough photographs to bore you with here on my blog.
Took some shots for Nausea & Bliss while I was there...they should be up in the next couple of days.

And finally, I know that everyone wants to know what CDs I listened to on the way to and from OKC tonight (I mean, this information is essential if you really want to be "in-the-know"):


The Beatles With The Beatles


X Los Angeles


Bob Dylan Bringing It All Back Home


David Bowie The Man Who Sold The World

If, for some reason, you don't own these albums, I implore you to head on over around the cyberspace corner to Amazon, fill up your cart, and max out yer credit card, cuz each of these albums is a classic in it's own right.

If you just can't get enough of me, you can find more of ME ME ME at MySpace.

Red's Tattoos

I'm not a huge fan of tattoos...I don't think I've ever seriously considered getting one...but I don't have a problem with them, and in fact, I am quite impressed with my friend Red's tattoos. They are truly works of art, IMO.



This is the first one he got. He'd planned a "Tribute to American Cultural Icons" and his fondness for Janis Joplin inspired him to get this portrait of her on his right arm.



If memory serves, the second addition to the "American Icons" series was this image of beat poet/author Jack Kerouac. If there's one thing Red is deep into, it's the Beat Generation, and you'll often find him with his nose in a book of Kerouac, Ginsberg or Charles Bukowski. Jack shares arm-space with Janis and:



...a young, Velvet Underground-era Lou Reed, another of Red's lyric writing influences. For a long time Red wouldn't listen to anything but Loaded...then he discovered Hank Williams Sr..



Standing alone on his left arm is the biggest influence on Red's writing and music, the one and only Bobby Zimmerman, looking like he's just arrived at Greenwich Village and is ready to spring something on the world.



The last time I visited the City Red was pretty much out of commission, having added to the legend he's writing about his life of debauchery the night before with a round of heavy drinking. Tonight he was considerably more lively, though he's still a bit rattled from the other night when he lost his pants and a wallet stuffed with 90 bucks at the bar.
You think that's bad...on his birthday he milled about the bar for no less than 30 minutes completely in the nude. To call him a "mischevious free spirit" would be somewhat conservative.

He's the kind of guy who takes you seriously when you jokingly say you're going to take a picture of him as he's sitting on the crapper and encourages you to do it:



So it should come as no surprise that Red has one of these:



Click HERE to listen to Red's own account of his stay in the Oklahoma County Jail... (Update 8/13/10 - the link has been removed. You'll have to take my word for it).

This is seriously funny stuff, but be forewarned, there is some rough language. It was recorded on a cell phone and Red had no idea he was telling the world about what it's like to spend the night in the pokey.

Get to know Red yourself by going to his MySpace PROFILE.

The Taco Jockey

Fast Food: The view from BEHIND the counter.
The Taco Jockey reports from the trenches of a Statesboro Taco Bell.
Enlightening and highly amusing...just as long as it doesn't come to the point where bodily fluids are inserted into the chow.

I prefer Taco Mayo, anyway...

Seriously, though...this may be the funniest blog I have ever stumbled upon.
Automatically made it onto my "Blogs I Like" list!