EnTranced

Victor Dinaire (host of FUTURE PROGRESSION)

Sometimes you just have to forget your preconceived notions of what you like and/or don't like and flush them down the toilet. Admit to yourself that tastes change with age and experience. It's that way with food (how I used to hate onions and green peppers, but they sure taste good to me in a Philly Steak submarine sandwich these days). It's that way with television shows (I can hardly believe that I actually watched Family Ties on a weekly basis and it took me until NYPD Blue's run was nearly finished before I finally caught on to the genius of that great show). It's that way with reading (I never thought I'd ever WANT to make it through Tolstoy's War And Peace, but last year after I plodded through the lengthy tome I was surprised at how much I enjoyed it).
So it only stands to reason that it's the same with music. Just because I never gave trance the time of day and dismissed it outright because I found the pulsating, persistant metronomical bottom-end beat to be more than I was willing to subject myself to at the time...well, that didn't mean I'd never come to a point in my musical evolution where I might actually enjoy it.
Tuesday night wanting to try something different from my usual fare, I threw caution to the wind, tuned into XM Radio's "The System", put on the headphones and caught DJ Victor Dinaire's program, FUTURE PROGRESSION. I had finally caught on to the idea that the repetitive beat, in trance music, is the equivalent of the watch a hypnotist swings in front of your face and tells you to stare at, then lulls you into the hypnotic state where the mind is most vulnerable to suggestion. The constant sequenced beat, I deduced, was meant to serve as a sort of grounding mechanism to keep me from getting swept away by the layers upon layers of swirling sound that bloomed, blossomed and faded around it's thud. In a way, I was reminded of Autechre and the IDM/Glitch that I already champion, in that there's so much going on you may not notice something that's been happening for several seconds until it has moved to the forefront of the mix, catches your attention and plays out, letting you discover something else that you may have missed when it creeped into the sonic jungle, your mind being occupied by the last melody/rythmic construction and, of course, that ear-drum pounding thump.
Long story short, I found myself quite immersed in the seamless flow of Dinaire's jockeying. Having never really listened to trance all that much in the past, I can say that he is "the best I've ever heard"...which means absolutely NOTHING since I can't compare his technique to anyone else's. I could not for the life of me throw out an opinion on how his mixing compares to that of other trance giants like Paul Oakenfold and John Digweed.
Now that Dinaire has eased me into an appreciation of trance music (and look ma! No drugs!), I'll have to seek out some tracks by Oakenfold, who was always very popular at the CD store I used to work at. I'll also pull out that BT CD I never really listened to and give it another whirl.
No, I have no idea where Victor Dinaire rates on the chart of Who's Who In Trance, but I don't really care. I enjoy his work, and it opened my ears to a whole new world of sound. I'll be listening to FUTURE PROGRESSION whenever I can.

A Cobra Amongst Us!

As a member of an internet community comprised of people who used to post on the now defunct Rolling Stone.com message boards, I have had the opportunity to converse with and get to know some very interesting people.
Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to introduce you to one of them...the enigmatic genius who goes by the name "Meursault".
Perhaps a clue to his personality can be gleaned from the knowledge that he took the name of the main character from Albert Camus' The Stranger as his community username. Those of us who have had the opportunity to read the thoughts he shares in his posts can attest to his being a sincere seeker on a quest for spiritual enlightenment...
But only today, when he posted the above photo, were we allowed to see the side of his psyche that reveals his true nature...
Now we know, and the knowledge is somehow both comforting and yet terrifying.
Meursault is a COBRA!
Never, in a million years, would I personally have suspected that Meursault had been initiated into that most illustrious sect, the Cobras. Not that I didn't think he had what it took to hang with that rough-and-tumble lot, but he just seemed too...I dunno...innocent, maybe, to even know what the Cobras stood for. More fool me. Can't judge a book by it's cover, that's the lesson I'll not soon forget after recovering from the shock that hit me when I first saw him clad in his Cobra attire.
Call it a fit of jealousy on my part, I suppose, this overblown reaction I'm having to Meursault's newfound status as a member of the Cobras. After all, I have wanted to be a Cobra ever since the first time I saw a regiment of them protesting out front of the CD Warehouse I once was employed at. I had the nerve to ask one what they were so mad about and he told me that they were upset because they'd heard that the owner had refused to give a job back to the best employee he'd ever had, and even though they didn't know the particulars of the situation, they were more than glad to be able to exercise their freedom of assembly to protest the principle of the matter.
I didn't even have the heart to tell him that I was that ex-employee...that I had been the one to offer my services once again to the musically illiterate owner and that I was the one who had been so cold-heartedly snubbed. I like to think that the reason I withheld that information from that Cobra was because I didn't even WANT to go back to work there, since the current batch of bozos who run the place had let it turn into such a big dump that I doubted even I could have fixed up. But the REAL reason I kept my silence was because of a strange mixture of intimidation and respect that I harbored for these Cobras. "Let 'em protest", I figured, "Maybe they'll teach those numbskulls a lesson!"
And now I find that my old internet buddy Meursault is hooked up with 'em.
Hats off to ya, Meursault.
You are da man.

BTW, Meursault DID give me permission to post this photo, but he wanted me to let it be known that the Chicago poster in the background belongs to his roommate. I don't think he's much of a fan of that band. However, he says, the T Rex poster beside it DOES belong to him.
Would have expected no less from a Cobra.

Post Secret

On a regular visit to one of my favorite blogs, this is not for you, I learned about this blog, Post Secret. It is a project in which people are asked to send a postcard of a secret they've never shared with anyone before, with the understanding that it will be shown on the blog. A sort of Postal Confessional shared with the world under the blanket of anonymity.

Heart-wrenching...when it's not deeply troubling.

I just wanted to share it with you.

Be forewarned, however...there's some disturbing stuff to be found here...

Burn These "Bridges"!

I finally did it!

After owning the album for all these years, at last I was able to sit through the Stones' Bridges To Babylon from start to finish!

Part of the problem with the album is that it's just too long. It's nice that the digital CD medium allows for 61 minutes of music (never coulda got that much on an LP), but the sad truth is that there's barely 25 minutes worth of decent songs here (and the keyword is "decent", since none of these tracks measure up to the Stones' better material).
That's somewhat harsh, I suppose, since it's always entertaining to listen to Keith Richards' guitar ideas, and there are many good ones here. Still, that hardly makes up for Jagger's over-wrought vocals and the slew of cheesy, half-baked lyrics. There's something very creepy about a man his age singing, "Might as well get juiced". Yeah, go ahead and get juiced, Mickey. After all these years that's the best course of action your acquired wisdom can offer? Life must REALLY be worth living, eh?

"Gunface" has our hero trying his best to be sinister by threatening a female with a gun. "I taught her everything," he boasts, "I taught her how to dream,

I taught her everything, I'm gonna teach her how to scream." Ooooh, that's frightening. He goes on, "I got a debt to repay, I ain't gonna lie , I put a gun in your face, You'll pay for the crime..."

Jagger seems to be trying so hard to be relevant to this big, bad, mean old world we live in that he has to resort to homicide fantasies. That's a long stretch from the days when he could provide genuine goosebumps by introducing himself as Lucifer, telling about the nature of his game.

But there are a couple of enjoyable songs amongst the dreck. "Too Tight", with it's core of Keef's trademarked slop-riffing, is a fun tune. Richards proves that he can do "creepy" with much more finesse than Jagger with "Thief In The Night" (though that one segues into one of the worst tracks on the album, the closer which asks the musical question "How Can I Stop?"...to which the logical answer is, "I dunno, but I sure wish you'd find a way"). "Always Suffering" shows a depth and maturity that is lacking throughout most of Bridges To Babylon.

It's not a ghastly terrible album...the Rolling Stones have been around too long and have too much collective talent to put out a total flop (though Voodoo Lounge comes awfully close)...and speaking of the band's collective talent, I have to say that Bill Wyman is seriously missed throughout this batch of songs. I've never really thought that Wyman was ever one of the genre's most notable bassists, but comparing his work on previous Stones albums to the uninventive ones on Bridges To Babylon and I find myself reconsidering. Keith probably likes it that way, though. Doesn't steal attention from his playing.

Now that I've listened to this record in it's entirety I feel as if I've accomplished something. Don't ask me what, but something, I'm sure. And it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be all the times when I yanked it out of the player around the time "Low Down" (the 3rd track) hit it's stride. But there is the very real possibility (might as well call it an inevitability) that I will never listen to the whole thing again for as long as I live.

And the album cover is so gaudy and over-done that it's frightening. Definitely one for the Kitcsh files. It's like a portrait of Mick Jagger reincarnated as a lion. Hoo-boy.

Random Thoughts: 4.9.05 Edition

Well, I hope everyone likes the little photo stream at the top of the page. You wouldn't believe how frustrating it can be when I make even a tiny mistake. Basically the photos are of the groups/artists/composers that I've listed in the "Music I Like" sidebar, in the same order (with the exception of Charlie Hall, who I can't seem to find a picture of). I realize that the size of the images makes some of them hard to recognize (there's no way anyone could tell that the Grateful Dead is in their slot)...but that's why I chose to simply reproduce the sidebar list. The perceptive viewer will figure it out. Not that this blog has any regular viewers at all, perceptive or not...
Anyhoo, a few random thoughts...
RANDOM THOUGHT #1: I mentioned my local video store in the Final Cut review I posted the other day. There's something about that store that really bugs me. They take it upon themselves to place "NC-17" stickers on certain "R" rated movies they think deserve it. There are several examples, but the only ones I can think of off the top of my head are We Were Soldiers (the Mel Gibson WWII vehicle) and the Kevin Costner/Robert Duvall film Open Range (a GREAT movie, if you haven't seen it, by all means you should).
It kinda bugs me that the proprieters of this store think their judgement is more reliable than that of the Motion Picture Ratings folk. Saving Private Ryan is a much more violent film than We Were Soldiers, and yet it retains it's "R" rating. For the life of me I cannot figure out how Open Range merited an "NC-17". Sure, there's a bloody shoot-out at the end, and it's pretty graphic, but no more so than several of the other westerns on their shelves they haven't bothered to re-rate.
It just doesn't make a lick of sense to me.
RANDOM THOUGHT #2: Here's a shout out to the Blog Oklahoma web ring that I've been a part of for about a week now. I'll have to start posting some stuff with a "local flavor" for all my fellow Okies who might just stumble in here from surfin' that excellent ring.
RANDOM THOUGHT #3: Might as well start now with the "local flavor"...and "flavor" is the key word here. The last week I've rediscovered just how delicious Robertson's ham is. If you've never tasted Robertson's ham, well, m'friend, you just have not enjoyed the best ham on the face of the earth. I'm not even much of a pork eater, and rarely eat ham, but that's because I'd forgotten just how delicious Robertson's is. The Robertson's store I patronize is the one located at I-40's 200 Mile Exit (the Prague-Seminole exit, about 50 miles east of OKC), and the proprieter there, Gary Bloomer, is one of the nicest fellers you could ever want to do business with. They also serve up some mighty fine bacon, sausage & beef jerky, among other delicacies, but you REALLY need to get ahold of some of that ham. It's a tad pricey (around 7 and a half dollars a pound, with the tax), but I'm here to tell you that it is SO worth every penny, you won't regret spending the difference ahead of any brand of ham you can name.
And NO, Mr. Bloomer has NOT paid me to advertise for him!
RANDOM THOUGHT #4: Those Spiderwick books for young 'uns are pretty doggone entertaining! Y'see, I've been reading to my 10 year old son quite a bit the last couple of days, and that's one that we're getting through together. It's something I never would have chose to read on my own, but I'll be derned if it I'm not enjoying it as much as my boy is! And the same goes for all the Hank The Cowdog books that I read to him. Funny, funny stuff...
RANDOM THOUGHT #5: Well, it's back to the old grindstone for me. The agency I work for has FINALLY gotten around to re-assigning me after 2 weeks of my waiting, each passing day finding me more and more content to just sit around and tinker on the computer (that's one of the reasons I've been able to mess with this blog so much). But they sho' nuff don't pay me to do this and a man's got to earn his keep (at least that's what the Good Book and the wife tell me), so the unpaid vacation is coming to a screeching halt this Wednesday, when I'm scheduled to get my annual CPR re-certification. I'll also meet the individual I'll be working with earlier that morning, and if all is hunky dory (and I don't have any reason to think that it won't be) I imagine we'll work my name into the staffing pattern. Then on Thursday I'll take care of that pesky annual Medication Administration Training refresher (a requirement for the job itself, but kind of a waste of time when one considers that the guy I'm working with doesn't even take medication at this point).
Not to worry, O legion of devoted Listening Room readers (and there are, what, at least 2 or 3 of you out there, right?), I'll still have lots of down time to tinker with this silly blog (as well as Nausea & Bliss, it's weird sibling).
RANDOM THOUGHT #6: Of all the genres of music available for the discriminating ear to savour, there is only one that I can say I truly detest. Broadway show tunes. I mean, I'd rather listen to elevator muzak than that junk. The only exceptions I can think of are Evita and Jesus Christ Superstar, and I can't even enjoy that last one cuz of all the shoddy theology that makes me cringe throughout.

The Legendary Simple Plan Break-up Hoax

Last year around this time the music world was alternately shocked and delighted by the news that A Simple Plan had broken up. For those of you who don't know (and that would likely include the majority of people over the age of 15), A Simple Plan is an "emo" band very popular with ritalin addicted youth struggling with major depression.
When I found out about the group's dissolution, I wrote this letter that I sent to the editors of Rolling Stone magazine. In their infinite wisdom they decided not to publish it, so I would like to share it with you:

Big MTV newsflash...apparently A Simple Plan has
broken up.
No doubt this event will shake the popular music world to it's very foundations, the repercussions of which will effect the creativity of all musicians currently
performing and recording worldwide. The break-up of A Simple Plan may well go down in history as the most notorious disintegration of a band since the Beatles
called it quits in 1970. Fans and non-fans alike will one day find themselves wondering "what could have been" had the bozos in A Simple Plan worked out their
differences and continued on...
A Simple Plan is dead...
...Long live A Simple Plan
I can't stop the tears from flowing...My sadness at the close of A Simple Plan's reign is overwhelming. The look on John Norris' face when he broke the news to all those TRL teeny boppers said it all...it was the expression of a man whose entire universe has been sucked into a black hole, chewed up, swallowed down
and then vomited back out to continue on without the crutch of A Simple Plan's awesome tunes. It was reminiscent of Walter Cronkite's despair when he
announced to the world, on a CBS Breaking News spot in 1963, that president John F. Kennedy had been shot. The sorrow in Norris' voice put me in mind of the radio
announcer from whom I'd learned of John Lennon's murder almost 25 years ago, and the mourning was not long in enveloping me, drowning me in it's black acid grief. I cannot even begin to count the tears that have already fallen from my swollen eyes since first finding out about A Simple Plan's demise.
And to make it even more heart- breaking, Norris talked to the lead singer on the phone (I should be shot in the head for not knowing his name...shame on me) and he
explainied how the guys in the band were all wanting to move in different musical directions and how he just couldn't tolerate 'em right now. I heard no hope for a
reunion in his discouraged voice as he tried to bring optimism to the crushed audience members by suggesting a possible solo career. Such a concession was just not enough to soften the blow that A Simple Plan is no more.
But alas, A Simple Plan is no more...
What's worth living for NOW, I ask you???

I don't know about you, but I thought that was pretty doggone funny.
And it would have been even funnier if the whole thing had not been a prank pulled by the members of A Simple Plan, who had never really broken up. I figured it was some sort of test they were giving their fans, to gauge the level of dissappointment that would break out at the news of A Simple Plan's cessation. If I remember correctly, there were a lot of sad faces in the TRL crowd that day when the news was announced.
But none of them were nearly as sad as the look on my own face when I found out that A Simple Plan was still a force to be reckoned with.

Just Plain Weirdness Indeed

Okay...I just heard something on XM Online's Special X channel that completely validates it's description of "Just Plain Weirdness".
A lounge jazz version of Metallica's "Enter Sandman" as performed by PAT BOONE!
The scary thing about it is...I actually kinda like it.
In fact, I think it's superior to the original!
Ha!
Sorry, Metallica fans.