She has arrived!

For those who have been following the story thus far:

I am proud to announce (and hopefully not stepping on the parents' toes, but I know her fans are eager to know) that at 2:03 a.m. Fluid Pudding gave birth to a healthy 10 pound 1 ounce baby girl. Stay tuned to Fluid Pudding for full details.

And there was much rejoicing.

Yay!

"Hello, babies. Welcome to Earth. It's hot in the summer and cold in the winter. It's round and wet and crowded. At the outside, babies, you've got about a hundred years here. There's only one rule that I know of, babies -- : 'God damn it, you've got to be kind.'" -- Kurt Vonnegut

Post Your Welcome Message Here.

Heroes and Villains

I’ve been watching the developing epidemic known cryptically as “SARS” for the past few weeks. Besides being struck by the fact that our society no longer allows us to have diseases with names, but rather acronyms, I’ve quickly become upset over the news coverage.

Time and again we are reminded how soldiers, police, firemen and the like are heroes. They risk their lives to help people, defend people, save people. They look into the dark eye of the beast on a daily basis and they hose the bastard down.

Whenever I read about SARS there are vague comments about the workers who are in the quarantined hospitals. Short comments about people who are disinfecting the public areas that have been closed. Minor mention of doctors, nurses, orderlies and volunteers who are working round the clock to save lives and prevent the spread of this deadly disease.

Where is the word “hero”? Are these people not risking their lives? Are they not staring into the eye of the beast in the hopes that you and I do not have to get this disease? Are they not contributing to the welfare of mankind?

I say that are. And I salute them, even if the world at large refuses to.

Thank you to all those in the healthcare industry around the world who are walking into a situation where an invisible assailant is waiting to lodge itself into your body and kill you. Thank you for working, without regard for your own life, to better the lives of others.

You are heroes, despite the fact that your actions do not make good television. Despite the fact that you do not topple statues, carry guns, run through flames or capture bad guys. One by one you give a child their parent back. You give a parent a child. A husband his wife. And you give communities hope.

Let it be known that, despite what it may seem, I believe you daring and brave people are true heroes.

Dear Friends and Family . . .

I’ve been receiving email regarding my “heavy crap” that is going on. I’ll answer, but only vaguely.

Something happened last week that has put our current future plans in a state of chaos. The event that happened is not the fault of me, my wife or any of the kids. However, the blame lies solely on the shoulders of one person who is being taken to task for the actions. Hence the sudden profane outburst yesterday.

That’s all I can, or will, really say. However, our household is in a crisis and we’re understandably nervous, frightened and upset over what is going on.

Hopefully it will clear up quickly and won’t affect our plans.

But it may affect those plans and put us in a tailspin that will result in the delay of these plans for months, perhaps even a full year.

We’re not happy right now. In fact, we’re downright pissed off one minute and depressed the next.

My wife, however, is bearing the brunt of everything as this whole situation has caused me to crawl into an emotional ball and shiver for hours on end. She’s an amazing woman and, no matter what happens, I’m thankful for her presence in my life. Without her I don’t think I could accomplish anything.

There is one good thing that has happened this week. My lovely wife secured tickets to see The Wiggles this summer. Gertrude may have a heart attack when she discovers that these beings from the television are real.

For those of you who don’t know, The Wiggles are like The Monkees for the pre-school set. They are former educators who started a children’s musical group and, I must admit, do a damn fine job of writing music that’s singable and not annoying.

Essentially, we’ll be taking Gertrude to see the diaper-set Beatles.

Profanity Alert!!!!!!! (Don't read if you'll be horrified that I use really heinous obscene language)

Personal note to Rat Boy:

Take a flying fuck at a rolling donut.

Take a flying fuck at the mooooooooooooooooooon!

*Apologies to Kurt Vonnegut.

One For The Boys

Still trying to feel better, so I dive back into Brian Wilson. Sorry to ramble.

Bells of Madness

Today in my continuing series of Brian Wilson: The Genius and the Madness, I’ll be discussing Brian’s madness and how it related to or came out through his music.

Brian Wilson started out his young life as a wunderkind. At the ripe age of 18 he was writing hits for an enormously popular band and began stretching his production talents behind the mixing boards. Eventually, he quit touring with the Beach Boys (replaced for a short time by Glen Campbell and then Bruce Johnston) and began focusing on simply creating their next music.

It started off innocently enough. He stepped up the sophistication of their arrangements, their vocals. The topics began to mature. But as other bands began getting more creative with their approach to pop music, Brian felt the pressure to one-up them. After hearing “Rubber Soul”, how it was a cohesive album, no filler, all the songs flowing into one another, Brian decided that the Beach Boys had to become the premier band pushing the boundaries of popular music. While the boys were on tour he conceived of an album with a cohesive theme: A boy who emotionally matures into a man. This idea eventually culminated in Pet Sounds.

For several years, Brian had been using Phil Spector’s studio band “The Wrecking Crew”, perhaps the finest stable of musicians ever assembled in one studio. The music they created for Pet Sounds, over the course of many, many sessions (examples of which will be found on the CD Stack-O-Tracks) is still the finest example of pop music. Sweet, sophisticated and gorgeous, Pet Sounds is a high mark for music. With Pet Sounds, Brian proved that his music can go far beyond girls, cars and parties.

The problem here was that few others agreed. While the album was met with great critical success and acclaim overseas, here in America America’s Band was having a difficult time finding an audience for Pet Sounds. Secretly this crushed Brian.

Worse still, his band mates were starting to grumble. He was messing with a tried and true formula. They wanted to be a successful band, not avante garde artistes.

Brian followed up Pet Sounds with Good Vibrations, still considered the greatest single ever recorded. And then began work on SMiLE, an album he called “A Teenage Symphony to God.” SMiLE fell apart, either under the weight of its own lofty aspirations or because of Brian’s quickly deteriorating mental abilities. Perhaps the most crushing moment for Brian is when, on what he considered his personal song (and the greatest writing triumph for his collaboration with Van Dyke Parks) for SMiLE, “Surf’s Up”, the band balked at singing such “high-minded” lyrics as:

Hung velvet overtaken me
Dim chandelier awaken me
To a song dissolved in the dawn
The music hall a costly bow
The music all is lost for now
To a muted trumpeter swan
Columnated ruins domino

Brian began to withdraw, until over the years he rarely sought personal interaction whatsoever. He became a persona-non-grata with in the band, merely sending musical postcards periodically. His weight ballooned to over 300 pounds; he lay in bed all day long and consumed enough drugs to kill most people. He had untreated paranoid Schizophrenia with psychotic delusions. He heard voices, he saw things, and he believed things that weren’t real. The only one who seemed to understand him was his brother Denny, who was equally consumed with a drug problem. When Denny died, Brian was lost.

Throughout this time, Brian sought help many times with varying degrees of success. He’d always fall back into his little world. The band tried a tough love approach, but it didn’t work. They tried to lure him out with music, but he wasn’t interested (or thought they were taking advantage of him). The band faltered and died in the seventies and eighties, turning into an oldies act (albeit a popular one) and a barely passable Beach Boys imitation band. But without Brian’s musical guidance, the defacto leader of the group Carl Wilson couldn’t attain the level of successes they desired. (Which is not to defile Carl’s talents. He proved to be a worthy producer and songwriter, as did his late brother Denny.)

All this time Carl worked very hard to protect Brian and help him. Though, through his illness, Brian couldn’t see this. He felt betrayed by his brother. A deep rift developed between them, though evidence shows that Carl continued to do all he could to save Brian.

Brian finally found a treatment program that worked for him, under the tutelage and treatment of a Svengali named Eugene Landy. While Brian began to surface from his illness, Landy began to take over his life, his finances, his work . . .

Several lawsuits and arguments later, Brian is truly back. He’s older now, having lost decades to his own mental decline and recovery. He’s married again to a woman who has shown him that there are people out there who love him and want to share his music with him. He’s touring, putting out records, recording and writing. He’s old enough to be a grandfather now, but his childlike love of music still shows through.

Carl is gone now. So is Denny. And his mom and dad. The only Wilson left from his youth is Brian. But he’s hardly alone. He’s working to repair the damage he’s done to his life. And he’s healing through his music. He’s on medication and he freely talks about his illness. But most importantly, he’s found his music again.

What astounds me, as a fan, is that throughout the late sixties and seventies Brian sent notes through music. They seemed to say, “I’m alone. I’m drowning.” One song, highlighted here, even seemed to say goodbye to the world at large. I only ask, what took his friends and family so long to get him real help? Listening to the music it seems like no one ever said, “Brian are you okay?”

The Tracks

Brian Wilson - One for the Boys--From Brian’s first official solo album. It’s difficult to say if the title of this acappella track is meant as an homage to his former band mates or a thumbing of the nose. This harmony piece is all Brian singing with himself and it sounds better than any Beach Boys harmony since 1972. Was Brian dedicating this to the Beach Boys? Or was he saying, “the sound is merely a matter of my vocal arrangement and has nothing to do with you. I do not need you to realize my music. I only need me.” Again, I felt the proper way to open a tribute to Brian’s genius, even his madness, was through a vocal incantation.

Brian Wilson with Carnie Wilson – Fantasy is Reality/Bells of Madness--I forget who wrote this song with Brian, but the song is recorded with bass aficionado Rob Wasserman and Brian’s daughter Carnie (of Wilson Phillips fame). Personally, I think it’s a gorgeous song. It harkens back to Brian’s darker music from the late sixties with SMiLE-esque chord changes. The lyrics, sometimes a jumbled mess of images about madness, seem to reflect a little of Brian’s brain. “Fantasy is reality, I love my fantasy reality is fantasy, just don’t call it reality.”

Beach Boys – Til I Die (alternate mix)--This song pops up again. This is one of those musical postcards I was mentioning. Brian seemed to be telling something to his fans, his family through his music. “I’m a leaf on a windy day / Pretty soon I’ll be blown away” seems to be a none to subtle message. “These things I’ll be until I die” seems to be a knock over the head. Every time I hear this song I feel like it was Brian’s way of saying, “I’m going away for a while. I may not be back.” Almost a musical suicide note. Though Brian didn’t kill himself, he certainly tried to kill his mind and his life. This particular version of the song is something that the engineer at the recording sessions had been holding close to his chest for many years. It opens with the instrumental track for over three minutes. Lilting vibraphones, dark organ and a sparse musical landscape suddenly burst into “I’m a cork on the ocean / Floating over the raging sea / How deep is the ocean?” The engineer, after completing the track the way the boys wanted it presented this alternate version to Brian, thinking that it was more reflective of what Brian was trying to say. And it was. Perhaps too much. He and the boys rejected it and Brian simply melted away. The track resurfaced on bootlegs of the lost “Landlocked” album and finally was officially released on a soundtrack for a documentary. It’s a gorgeous version. A funeral song. Brian now performs this song in almost exactly this manner. Starting off with the mournful music before erupting into his pleas for peace. Personal peace. Perhaps one of the most affecting Beach Boys songs ever recorded.

Beach Boys – Break Away (demo)--When the boys would come back from tour, Brian would often present them with tapes of their new songs. Fully recorded, with his vocals layered throughout. It was an aural roadmap that the band was supposed to follow. This is one of those demos, essentially a Brian Wilson solo song that was turned into a Beach Boys song. And it is superior to the released version. But that is neither here nor there. Here, written with his estranged father, Brian is saying:

When I layed down on my bed
I heard voices in my head
Telling me now "Hey it's only a dream"
The more I thought of it
I had been out of it
And here's the answer I found instead . . .

It was in my head . . .

And I can breakaway to the better life
Where the shackles never hold me down
I'm gonna make a way for each happy day
As my life turns around

Brian was saying that something was wrong. That he needed to find that happy life. It was a plea, again. An unanswered or unanswerable plea.

Beach Boys – In My Room--What I consider Brian’s first real personal song. It’s about his personal refuge, his room. Where he kept his piano and wrote his songs. It was the only place he ever felt safe and happy.

Beach Boys – I Just Wasn’t Made for these Times--One of Brian’s first really strong emotional pleas.

Sometimes I feel very sad
(Can't find nothin' I can put my heart and soul into)
Sometimes I feel very sad
(Can't find nothin' I can put my heart and soul into)

I guess I just wasn't made for these times

Beach Boys – Fairy Tale Music--How to describe this? A musical suite in four minutes. The music changes several times, going through clear movements. The melodies are gorgeous, but it’s hard to make sense of where this was supposed to go. It seems the voices in Brian’s head were no longer speaking clearly. He had lost his muse and was trying to find it again. Still, as strange as this song is, it works. It’s an interesting painting of how his mind was working at the time. “Pied Piper, I’d better get back in bed.” He was going away again . . .

Beach Boys – You’re Welcome--I love this song. It’s just a chant, really. But odd. Very, very odd. I could listen to this short little song over and over.

Beach Boys – Sail Plane Song (demo)--This demo is, perhaps, one of the darkest songs Brian has ever written. Truly seems to be the buzz of noise in his head. And yet, it’s a thoroughly compelling song. From the descending minor chords, to the bleak lyrics that hint at happiness to Brian’s voice . . . it’s hard not to listen to. The Beach Boys spent years trying to turn this into a muddled piece of crap and finally succeeded, sucking all the life out of the song by adding the moronic “Loop-de-loop-flip-flop flying in an airplane.” Ugh.

Beach Boys – She’s Goin’ Bald--At one time this was a SMiLE track known as “He Gives Speeches.” The boys changed it to be a little less esoteric, keeping the melody but turning it into a gag song with some bizarre chipmunks break and a difficult to hear vaudevillian middle. The track is now pointless, as opposed to the original. But it’s still interesting to hear what Brian was trying to do with instrumentation, melody and rhythm. It could have been a great song. It’s yet another example, however, of madness in music. Is this an extension of his madness or something that lead to it? Did he go crazy trying to get his ideas out? Or did his ideas come out of his madness?

Beach Boys – Sail on Sailor--A little known fact about the Beach Boys in the seventies: the whitest band in America became integrated with the addition of two South Africans. One of those South Africans, Blondie Chaplain, gives a stunning vocal performance on this Brian penned R&B track that barely missed being classified as “Blue-eyed Soul” based on the skin color of the singer. But it marked a return to the boys’ use of harmony to add to a song, even a typical seventies rock track. More importantly, this was another Brian postcard:

Always needing, even bleeding
Never feeding all my feelings
Damn the thunder, must I blunder
There's no wonder all I'm under
Stop the crying and the lying
And the sighing and my dying

It’s a great damn rock tune. Perhaps one of the last great Beach Boys songs. Soulful, painful, driving. Sail on, sail on sailor. Was Brian trying to tell himself to keep going? Not to give up? Alas . . . he did. Again. He did.

Brian Wilson – Lay Down Burden--From Brian’s second solo CD, a gorgeous song of regret with soaring vocals, affecting lyrics and a lovely arrangement. Brian rarely sings about regret. He’s always looking at the present or the future, but rarely the past. Perhaps it was one of the few healthy things he has done. Or perhaps it was one of the most damaging. Brian was working to repair his familial relationships, trying to undo the things he did, what he neglected. Two of those relationships were with his mother and brother, Carl. Both of whom died in short succession. The man who Brian described as having “the voice of an angel” was gone. This song comes as a surprise, surprising reflective, surprising regretful. When he performs it live, even five years later, he is near tears when he sings it. Why is he alive after all he’s been through? Does he deserve it? Why is he still hear and his mother and brothers are all gone? He’s opening his soul, regretting the hole in his life that he was never able to repair:

So many years spent running away
How many times I wished I could stay
Too much emotion a hole in my heart
Feeling alone since we’ve been apart
And if I had the chance
I’d never let you go
Just want you to know

Lay down lay me down
Lay me down
Lay down burden

How many things I wanted to do
How many times spent thinking this through
So many nights spent here by the phone
Wonderin’ if you felt just as alone
And while some things have all been
Crazy from the start
It’s tearing me apart

Lay down lay me down
Lay me down
Lay down burden

Just remember the way I held you
You’re always in my heart

Lay down lay me down
Lay me down
Lay down burden

Brian Wilson – Melt Away--Putting up the walls again? “Sometimes I close off to the world.” “I won’t let you see me suffer . . . “

Beach Boys – Busy Doin’ Nothing--A longing for a special friend. Surprisingly swingy.

Brian Wilson – It’s not Easy Being Me (demo)-- From sessions with friend and musician Andy Paley. There are some truly great songs that came out of these sessions. Songs that show that Brian still had “it”. They never saw the light of day, for various reasons. Though Brian does play some songs live. Here for obvious reasons. “I can’t face this by myself / I wish I was someone else / Behind this smiling face you see / It’s not easy being me / I can’t be the man you want me to be / It’s not easy being me.” The songs from these sessions are fantastic, lush, layered, and beautiful. Let’s hope they someday see the light of day.

Brian Wilson – Thank You (a.k.a. Brian)
From the, thankfully, shelved album “Sweet Insanity” album. It was to be Brian’s second solo CD, written with his Svengali psychiatrist Eugene Landy. The production is terrible, the lyrics weak and there are only moments. This is marginally one of them. The instrumentation is over-wrought and terrible. The lyrics sound more like a therapy exercise than anything and, in some cases, are uncharacteristically mean for Brian. But, historically, it’s an important track. Brian is trying to say he’s getting better and is thanking those who are supportive. And then he slams the Love family (rightly so, but Brian just doesn’t do that.) Important line: “Music has been my saving grace.” A good concept for a song, killed by the crappy writing of Brian’s psychiatrist. Proving, by the way, that psychotherapy and music do not always mix. Perhaps some of this was better left in group therapy sessions.

Brian Wilson – Where Has Love Been--Could Brian not find it? Or just not see it? I believe his wife Melinda (whom I’ve met, by the way) is showing him that it has always been there. He seems to realize that, through this song. Poignant, with beautiful vocals from Brian. “Tumbling like a leaf out on the sea of doubt / I’ve seen nights that seem to last for years”.

Brian Wilson – She Says that She Needs Me--This song started its life in the late sixties and finally surfaced in the nineties. Thirty years in the making. Wow. It was originally “Sherry She Needs Me”. I’m a sucker for a good, sad, wind instrument (I used to play one and, alas, my playing was sad.) This song has it. “Still I can’t help wondering why I feel the way I do.” Lovely vocals again. Brian proves that, even in his adult contemporary mode, he can forget a better song that the Beach Boys ever wrote and recorded without him. (I’m sorry, but Kokomo makes me want to be eaten by bulimic lions.)

Beach Boys – Let the Wind Blow--Just let life happen, but don’t leave me.

Beach Boys – The Warmth of the Sun--This song is amazing. Written by Brian and Mike in response to the assassination of JFK. An amazing song for a couple of neophyte twenty year olds. Gorgeous melody, lovely arrangement, heart-breaking vocals. It isn’t exactly about JFK, though. It’s about loss, the feeling of the sun on your skin. The good and bad of life.

Beach Boys – I Went to Sleep--And he slept and slept and slept.

Brian Wilson – Happy Days--This song starts out as a cacophony. Flying sounds, mumbling voices, dark lyrics. It explodes with “Oh God the pain I’ve been going through.” It mentions how Brian used to be “so far from life” and that no one could help. For the first time in his career, at this point well over thirty years, Brian has admitted that he was sincerely in trouble. He’s better now, but there were times . . . and there’s still the fear. This song is literally a musical version of what Brian hears in his head every single day, even with the medication. Voices, sounds, snippets of music all pulling him in different directions. It’s musical schizophrenia. But it’s not all bleak. Because happy days are here again. “Happy Days” is difficult to listen to at first because you have to figure out the keys. But once you do, the melody is infectious and you hear that voice. That sweet vocal harmony and you realize that Brian is better and you, wrapped in the warmth of his vocal harmonies, have found something comfortable, happy and familiar.

Brian Wilson – Love and Mercy--This song seems like it should be on the recovery disc, but I chose to file it with madness. Imagine yourself laying in bed for decades. The world seems to hate you. You think your friends hate you. You think your family hates you. You’re afraid to go outside, you’re afraid to leave your bed. What would you need? What would you wish for everyone you love? Simple: Love and Mercy. It’s all any of us could ask for. Brian refers to this song as a “love song for all of you”, his fans. It is his sincere wish for us all.

Beach Boys – Surf’s Up (Demo)--Though not technically the Beach Boys. This SMiLE remnant (an official SMiLE demo) is just Brian and the piano. His voice is deeper hear, but rises to his trademark falsetto several times. The lyrics are esoteric, difficult to understand without peeling away the symbols. But the emotion is not. Picture a child standing in the surf waving goodbye while you drift away in a boat. Is Brian the child or the man in the boat? Again, this is a goodbye song of sorts. Goodbye to innocence, goodbye to childhood, goodbye to everyone, goodbye to the world.

Beach Boys – Caroline, No--The closing track of Pet Sounds and, when originally released, a Brian “solo” work. No other Beach Boy appears on this track. A song of loss and leaving. The final sounds you hear on this track are a passing train and barking dogs. When Brian played Pet Sounds for his wife shortly after competing it they sat there in tears because of the emotion, the beauty. “See that train,” Brian said, “that’s me waving goodbye.”

Continue Discussing

It's Official

I have eaten all of the Easter malted milk balls. Our household is now free from this oppressive regime of chocolate and malt. We are free to live our lives without the fear of fattened chocolate bliss.

That is all.

Layin' in Bed Like Brian Wilson Did

Some pretty heavy crap is going on right now and it’s got me pretty wound up. Right now I’m spitting stomach acid in such great amounts that it could be considered a super-power. I’d better be careful, or I may be classified as a WMD.

In an attempt to calm myself I’ve decided to write some liner notes from a series of CDs that I’ve made my sister. The genesis of these CDs came from a phone call from my sister regarding a PBS special on Joni Mitchell. The conversation turned from Joni to madness and music. Genius and psychosis. Where are the lines drawn? Does the music reflect the madness or does the music cause the madness? What’s it like to walk around with music in your head constantly? Music that needs to come out. Music that comes from deep within you.

My personal obsessive mad genius is Brian Wilson. My sister’s is Joni Mitchell. Shortly after this conversation, I conceived of a series of CDs that highlighted Brian Wilson’s genius and madness.

Music is, perhaps, the only universal concept in human culture. We differ on religion, government, food, sex, pets, clothing, etc. However, in the most primitive portions of our souls we can all agree on music. Something may not be our particular style but anyone can recognize the beauty of a melody or the emotional power behind a song. You may not understand the words but an Iroquois funeral lament is bound to bring tears to your eyes. Because certain rhythms, sounds, cadences, keys hit a universal chord within us. A simple melody can bring tears or joy just as easily as complex lyrics.

What makes music beautiful? It’s hard to say. Why is a D minor a gorgeous chord, but random fingers on a keyboard produce sonorous results? Why do we feel certain chords physically but others do nothing? Is it the physical rhythm of a song that appeals to us? How can one instrument sound mournful and sad one moment and joyous and triumphant the next? Why do the piano and cello seem to be made for a duet but the mouth harp and banjo seem to create a rift in space-time that makes your head explode? Why are the timpani so imposing and the crash of the cymbal so fulfilling?

I can’t say what it is about Brian Wilson that causes such a strong emotional reaction in me. The fact of the matter is that I should find his music white bread, corny and dated. But I don’t (and neither do many of the top songwriters of the last several decades). But, in truth, a wide-variety of his music can cause goose bumps to rise, even if I’ve heard the song a thousand times. Each time I listen to “God Only Knows” I hear something I didn’t hear before and I’ll roll back the song trying to figure out why the snare drum hit on the upbeat instead of the downbeat or why the flute played that particular figure.

Brian’s music is filled with lush chords, gorgeous melodies, simply amazing arrangements and earth shattering harmonies that are still unsurpassed in popular music. Many people these days write-off his music as “oldies” music, which is fine. You can also call Brahms’ sonatas for piano and cello “old” but that doesn’t mean I won’t get goose bumps and tear up during certain crescendos.

Brian Wilson’s music is like an onion, layers upon layers to be discovered. You can listen to the words and find a beautiful song about teen love, lost love, feeling adrift, terror, vegetables, simple pleasures, loneliness or helplessness. You can forget the words and listen to the soaring harmonies. You can strip away the vocals and hear the complex melodies, counter-melodies, time-signatures, changes, keys and chords of the arrangement. You can listen to just the piano or the harpsichord or the organ or the drums or the guitar. You can listen to the way certain instruments interact to create a wholly new sound. Or you can simply listen to the song as a whole and wonder why he wrote the bridge the way he did. Why the piano at that point? Why does that melody reoccur here? What is the French Horn doing there?

The irony of Brian’s music, and the fact that most people listen to only the surface is that Brian rarely wrote the lyrics. Armed sometimes with only a melody on a piano and a simple emotional idea, Brian could convince people to write exactly what he was trying to say. Sometimes he’d complete the backing track, with background vocals, and the sheer emotion of the song would explain to the lyricist what Brian was trying to say. Other times Brian would be able to find the words himself, such as in “Love and Mercy” (though there is some debate as to whether or not his Svengali psychiatrist had something to do with the lyrics):

I was sittin' in a crummy movie with my hands on my chin
All the violence that occurs seems like we never win

Love and mercy that's what you need tonight
So love and mercy to you and your friends tonight

Overall, you could say that through Brian’s good and bad times that was his message. That love and mercy is all anyone needs. In my mind it’s a good message, no matter how it came about.

The sad fact of Brian’s life is he spent a lot of time with undiagnosed or untreated Schizophrenia with psychotic delusions. The question remains whether or not the music came out of this illness or the music created the illness. No one will ever be able to say for sure. But he lost decades of his life to fear, depression and simply “laying in bed.” It was his only defense in a world that seemed to destroy him.

He’s arguably better now. He’s touring and writing again. He’s suddenly realizing that people love him for his music and what it means to them personally.

Say what you will about his music, but I truly believe that it will outlast all of us. A century from now, long after we’re all gone, “God Only Knows” will still bring tears to people’s eyes. And there will be little that is more American than “I Get Around”.

My series of CDs consists of five separate CDs and the repletion of some songs. Each CD follows a specific theme that investigates a portion or concept of Brian’s music. The CDs break down thusly:

Love and Mercy—Brian’s music, mostly with the Beach Boys, and their beauty. The songs here are all about melody and beauty.

Bells of Madness—Music that either deals with madness, loneliness and helplessness or is borne out of those feelings. In my mind, this is the most powerful of the discs.

SMiLE—My personal version of the lost masterpiece. Often considered the product of the madness. Regardless of the genesis, the music is different than anything anyone else has ever offered and, even in its incompleteness; it is a triumphant work of daring musical inventiveness.

Recovery—Brian working out of his madness and healing. Much of this CD consists of his solo work or recent live triumphs. His voice isn’t want it used to be, but the music is eternal. And the harmonies are as sweet as ever.

Stack-O-Tracks—Alternate versions, vocals only tracks, backing tracks, sessions and more. While this may be considered, by some, to be “cast offs” it provides some insight into the mind of the man who creates this music. How the music evolved, changed and how Brian worked. It also provides the listener with the opportunity to hear the vocals without the music and truly listen to the complexity of the harmonies or to simply listen to the backing tracks as complete wholes. What is amazing about these pieces is that the vocals on their own or the music tracks on their own are gorgeous and often stand on their own merits.

So, despite the length of this post thus far, I will now go track by track through “Love and Mercy”.

Our Prayer--This is the SMiLE version. The gorgeous harmonies of this wordless acappella piece are undeniable and represent Brian’s understanding of the human voice as an instrument. Plus, what better way to start off a CD dedicated to the beauty of his work than a brief incantation summoning the beauty of the human vocal chords?

Add Some Music to Your Day-- “Your doctor knows it keeps you calm / Your preacher adds it to his psalms / So add some music to your day” Music is a powerful force that can soothe . . .

Soulful Old Man Sunshine This isn’t a traditional, or very well known for that matter, Beach Boys track. But the vocals are incredible. They soar, they intertwine. This song shows how much the Beach Boys could do with just their untrained voices. And it shows how much care Brian took in creating these harmonies.

Don’t Worry Baby--Brian’s first real experiment, and one of his first truly emotional songs. He set out to equal his favorite song, “Be My Baby”. And he does. This song can stand next to any Phil Spector track and survive. Plus, Brian bears his soul here. He’s asking someone to make everything go away.

God Only Knows --Perhaps the greatest pop song ever recorded. From the opening, heart-breaking French Horn to the closing vocal tags this song will break your heart. Perhaps Brian’s shining moment as a song writer and, perhaps, one of the most beautiful songs written in the 20th Century. Both based on its musical attributes as well as its simple lyrics. It brings tears to your eyes. I sing this to my kids all the time. And that lovely instrumental break. So unexpected, so different. So perfect. Listen to the flutes in the second chorus. That Brian was in his early twenties when he wrote and recorded this makes it all the more amazing. What did you do at 22?

Please Let Me Wonder--In a word: Gorgeous. The vocals, the melody, the arrangement. It’s a wonderfully gentle song with an amazing emotional build up in the bridge.

Kiss Me Baby (Stereo Remix)--The way it suddenly explodes, both in the vocal tag at the beginning at in each chorus . . . masterful.

Surfer Girl--If Brian had sung one vocal melody in his life and stopped, the “oooooh” in this opening would have been enough. His voice is so gentle and pained here. Despite the seemingly simplicity of this song, it sounds so sad. So longing . . .

California Girls--Thirty seconds of pure bliss. Brian’s first “orchestral” piece is at the beginning. Completely unrelated to the rest of the song, using instruments that never show up again and yet . . . undeniably amazing. I can hear him for hours getting those horns just right.

The Little Girl I Once Knew --Though “California Girls” may have been considered Brian’s first triumph, I find this song to be his first real attempt at bringing pop music to a new level. The complexity of the arrangement combined with the sudden silences was unheard of. There’s a daring here that was unsurpassed by any other song-writer for a few years. Not until Rubber Soul did another band try anything so off-the-beaten path. And silence never sounded so glorious. It seems to erupt from the music.

Wouldn’t it Be Nice--This may be one of those songs that you’ve “heard” but never truly “listened” to. Do it now. The harp, the drums, and the intertwining vocals. Beautiful. This song has such an innocent longing . . . but a wisdom that seems to say that the singer knows that it’s all just a dream.

Don’t Talk (Put Your Head on My Shoulder)--So sad. So mournful. Listen to the music on this one.

Sloop John B. --This is a “traditional” folk song that Brian included on Pet Sounds. To my knowledge, it contained the first acappella break in a pop song ever. And a beauty of a break it is.

Good Vibrations--Perhaps the greatest single ever recorded. Brian spent six months working on this song, recording sections in different styles. He then chopped everything up and pasted it together to make a greater whole. Modern production was born. But it was never surpassed in its majesty, complexity or use of the Theremin. It was crazy at the time, but it has become the norm.

Cool Cool Water--Just a cool, cool song.

Mama Says--Brian has a hell of a sense of humor and it shows through with this playful little song about all the things one should do to be a good little doobie. It’s silly and fun.

Had to Phone Ya--Had to listen to the wind instruments on this. What exactly are they doing?

Heroes and Villains (Single Version)--A remnant of SMiLE, but a good one. The Beach Boys started to show that they could really rock. What’s missing from Brian’s original plan is the epic scope of the song. While some of the wordplay and vocal complexity remains, his original (and superior) version really broke the mold on what a pop song was allowed to do.

Darlin’--One of the best examples of Carl Wilson’s sweet voice. While this song could be considered “slight”, it’s a good R&B tune. And the boys recorded it slightly ahead of the curve.

Wild Honey--Didn’t know that the Beach Boys ever recorded anything like this, did you? They moved through genres and broke molds all the time. Sadly, few people noticed anymore. And by this time, Brian was slipping away . . .

Friends--A nice, gentle arrangement.

Pet Sounds--An instrumental that Brian wrote for James Bond. It was never accepted, lucky for us. This three minute tune highlights Brian’s ability to write just about anything. Burt Bacharach would be proud.

Let’s Go Away for Awhile--Another instrumental. And a beautiful one. Listen to how this one swells and grows. It really paints a mental picture. Of what? That’s for your brain to discover.

Here Today--A few minutes into this song there is a completely unexpected instrumental break that grows in complexity. One of the shining moments of Pet Sounds for me.

Can’t Wait Too Long--It’s a pretty little song, with some nice changes.

Time to Get Alone--I can’t describe this one. It has nice breaks, nice changes. But it also has an emotional content that I can’t describe. It lifts and falls gently.

I Can Hear Music--A Phil Spector song, one-upped by Brian. Something tells me that this song spoke to Brian.

’Til I Die--This song crops up a few times in these compilations, in different forms. This is the “official” version of the song. A window into Brian’s soul. Even the music seems to be waving goodbye. It’s a funeral song for Brian’s psyche.

Surf’s Up--The album version and a SMiLE remnant. It represents Carl’s newfound confidence in production and really highlights his talents. It’s a complex, majestic song. And very interesting to listen to, specifically with the “Child is the Father of the Man” refrain at the end. However, if you listen to the demo that Brian recorded you hear a different emotion. A sense of standing at the shore and saying goodbye to something. This version is amazing, to say the least, but listening to the demo is just astounding. However, if this was a hint of what the completed SMiLE could have been . . . well . . . that’s our musical loss. It’s a pretty daring performance. And Sean O’Hagan of The High Llamas owes a lot of his career to this song.

I’ve been writing this for two hours now. I’ve said too much. But, for these brief moments, with these songs playing, I was able to escape into a different world. A world of beauty, sadness and comfort. Music, once again, has allowed me to forget my worries for a brief time. I feel recharged. The world hasn’t changed, but I feel as though I have touched a salve for my troubled soul. Thanks again Brian.

Discuss

All We are saying: Give Guinness a Chance

A regime change I support.

I'm Going to Hell

Can we eat donuts now?

Still on Hiatus

My Science Fiction Twin
Elvis Costello

My science fiction twin
Is doing better than expected
He captured a little blonde trophy wife
Who's really very well connected
And when he calls home with his alibi
She says "Is this really necessary?"
But she knows that a man can't be a man
Unless he's punishing his secretary
He sips in the glow of a '61 vintage
Just as the day is dimming
With every intention of surrendering
To fifty-foot women
Who put the fascination back into my science fiction twin

My science fiction twin
Decided to become invisible
He has my eyes, my face, my voice
But he's only happy when I'm miserable
The words flew from his mouth
And they were gently gathered by reporters
Trying to frame his once infamous flame
With tattered pictures of her daughter
Her hair is all made out of porcupine
Her figure is fantastic
But as you know, they corrupted her
So they're being sarcastic
Who put the fascination back into my science fiction twin

He'll scream and shout
Everything is working out just as he predicted
Pride and position in the gallery of attempted people
Oh and the pain is so sweet
Better stamp his little feet
And you'll even have time to pity me
How can you feel content?
You wonder where this fellow went

My science fiction twin
Escorted by his lovely nieces
Filled up his purse dictating verse
While painting masterpieces
His almost universal excellence
Is starting to disturb me
They asked how in the world he does all these things
And he answered "Superbly"
He's trapped in his own parallel dimension
That's why I'm so forgiving
But how could I possibly forget to mention those fifty-foot women
Who put the fascination back into my science fiction twin

On Hiatus

Science Fiction Twin will be going on a three-week hiatus until we get the move completed, all papers signed and my blood leeched from my system and donated to vampires 'round the world.

I apologize for any inconvenience this may cause you. I know several of you have been keeping your lunch here. Feel free to continue to do that, I understand the need.

Anyway, see you on the flipside, as those cool people who wore polyester and listened to KC and the Sunshine Band used to say. Or, for that matter, keep on truckin'.

I'll be back to tell you all a bout what it was like turning thirty next week (probably not much), more about the kids and, of course, my continued efforts to make it into space outside the normal boundaries of a space agency.

Discuss Topics of Your Choice

Phrase of the Day:

Phrase of the Day: "An unusually dexterous monkey"

Run! It's a Glacier!

UPDATE ON CD DRIVE: I’ve replaced the drive. Oddly enough, none of the stores had one that was a 12X or below (I’m not gun-shy). A friend has kindly offered to burn a replacement copy of the disc that blew, so I don’t have to buy a full new boxed set to get it back. (The RIAA will be coming soon to pick us both up because we are now responsible for their hemorrhaging sales.) Someone has actually suggested that the RIAA blew up my disc in a DRM effort. Interesting theory . . .

Lately I’ve been having the urge to write, direct, star in and write the musical score for a big-budget action film. I want to be the white, pudgy version of Mario Van Peebles. Except with better hair.

Naturally, I need to have a story idea, plus an entire plot. To add further complications, I also need to come up with some plot holes in order to make it feel like a real action thriller.

I’ve decided that the best route to go is the traditional Natural Disaster movie. We haven’t had a good one for quite some time. Sure, there was Twister. And I love seeing a flying cow as much as the next guy, but as far as a movie with actual science and special effects that actually look better than a blurry dirt spot with pieces of wood flying around it, there hasn’t been one. There have been recent films about forest fires (that would be Firestorm starring Howie Long, no less) volcanoes, meteors, comets, floods, big holes, and swarms of mutant spiders. To be honest, there aren’t many left.

But I found one.

GLACIER: Coming Eventually to a Theater Near You

The film will be located in a small Rocky Mountain town. That there isn’t currently significant glacial activity there is beside the point, and quite honestly if you’re looking for hard science why are you watching an action film? Before the credits roll you see two men in circa 1860s clothing climbing up a rocky slope. They’re looking for gold, or something valuable. Maybe they’re in search of the ever-elusive Rocky Mountain Monkey. The screen says “Holy Hill, 1864.”

They get to the peak of whatever it is they are climbing they stop and take a drink. One guy looks off over into the distance and sees an expanse of white.

“What’s that,” he asks.

“Don’t know,” his friend replies.

They continue on their way, the camera moves over the expanse of white and the music swells menacingly. Then you have your opening credits.

PRESENT DAY the screen says. The town is a bustling place; people are doing whatever small town people in movies do. Making jam or something. You see, it’s a movie small town. So not only does it have the quaintness of small-town living, but they also have an art gallery, eight coffee houses that sell rare Columbian blends and a swanky hotel where our hero and heroine can go and have disaster sex at some point.

So, the camera is panning down the idyllic scene of kids playing, cars driving and waving. Imagine the opening of Blue Velvet before the guy has a stroke and the beetles devour the screen. When, suddenly it spots that expanse of white. And it’s CLOSER! Not impending doom or anything, but it’s significantly closer. Pretty close. Close enough to see anyway.

Cut to the town hall where our hero is beseeching the city government to DO SOMETHING about the glacier because it is coming and it can destroy the city.

“Tell us, when do you estimate the glacier will be an imminent danger,” the mayor asks.

“Well,” our intrepid hero says, “A couple centuries? Maybe more. But the resulting changes to topography could have devastating effects on that skate park that Old Man Jenkins is building south of Pritchett Road.”

“My GOD”, the mayor says, “this is serious. We’re out of donuts.”

Then there is mass confusion. Everyone fights over the artery clogging goodness of the last Krispy Kreme and, like all government institutions, chaos reigns over who will pay for the next dozen.

Our hero leaves and heads out to the glacier. A note about our hero. He is wholly unoriginal. He is a combination of every movie scientist. Geeky, but not nerdy. Dashing but down to Earth. Always wears some sort of khaki. Wears glasses for dramatic effect and, naturally, can bag amazingly attractive women because in this world men who understand physics are viewed as sexy, not as pale, basement dwelling freaks with bad skin.

He goes out to the glacier and talks to it.

“I know you’ll kill us all someday. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not me. Or my children. Or my children’s children. Or my children’s children’s children. But you’ll kill somebody and I aim to stop it.”

He goes back to town and finds an amazingly attractive and fabulously well-to-do female in his office. She’s the daughter of the mayor, a bit of a bad seed, but that’s how our scientist likes ‘em. They banter, they smolder. She says she believes him. She believes in him when no one else would. They go back to the swanky hotel for disaster sex.

Finally they set up camp at the glacier to measure its movements. It’s crazy and dangerous, they know. But that’s the type of people they are.

Eventually their measurements reveal that the glacier has actually retreated by a foot. There is much rejoicing. But it is short lived. Flash forward to two years later. It has advanced by two feet. Everyone screams. For centuries.

But the town learns nothing. And after several flash-forwards the town is destroyed. But there is no mass chaos and no one dies, except from natural causes as things go. Because the people were sensible enough to realize the glaciers don’t kill people. People kill people with various forms of fire.

And in the end the only person to die in this whole experience was our hero. He slipped on a falling piece of ice from the glacier and hit is head, fell down a cliff and was shot seven times by his attractive mate because they could never see eye-to-eye on the politics of capital punishment.

Fin

Discuss Glacier!

My Computer Hates Your Mama

I’m thinking of wrapping myself in rubber and hiding in the basement whenever there is a thunderstorm. Because, with my luck I would be struck by lightning. Not once. But at least twice.

Last evening started just fine. My wife and I both had work to do, so we decided to work at our side-by-side computers. I decided to rip some songs from a Beach Boys CD and add them to my music directory. After all, I can listen to the files on my computer, while my wife listens to the CD at work, or in the car, etc.

Everything was going just fine. I got up to get a cup of coffee as I continued my work. As I was pouring the coffee, my wife and I were discussing what sort of refrigerator we wanted for the house. Did we want side-by-side? With water and ice? Or did we want the freezer on the bottom? Those are more energy efficient. Blah blah blah.

Walking back to the computer, negotiating piles of the kid’s crap, I hear a POP! I stopped. Did I step on a balloon? Or break a toy? What the hell happened? Both my wife and I were trying to figure out exactly what I had done. We’re looking on the floor and we can’t figure it out.

Then my CD/RW drive started whirring sickly. It opened and dropped some shards on the floor. And closed again. And opened again. “I’ve been hit!” it seemed to be trying to say.

I calmed the drive down and powered the whole system down. I unplugged everything and got my tools. It was time for emergency surgery.

First I removed the drive and inspected the inside of the computer. It looks like the wound was contained. As you can see on the drive, no shards, not even miniscule, had escaped from the casing of the drive. This was good news. I wouldn’t be frying any of my internal components. Whew! It also meant that I could continue working.

 

Then I got out the high-techest tool that is needed in order to fix or diagnose a problem with a stuck or unpowered drive (located in the left of the frame):

 

I inserted the tool and popped open the drive. It was a clean incision. As you can tell, my greatest fears were being confirmed. The tray was empty. It could only mean one thing (note high-tech CD drive tool in its extended position on the right):

 

Finally, I started the extraction process. Or, to be more technical, I had my wife pick up the drive and shake:

 

Here’s the thing: I loved that CD. Here’s the other thing: It’s part of a five disc boxed set. I can’t just replace that one disc. Here’s the other, other thing: Fu(this word has been edited, as it is not deemed family friendly. Therefore we have decided to replace it with a word which we feel will be equally compelling) FRELL!

This isn’t the first time that this has happened to me. I had another disc explode a few years ago. However, I find it concerning. How, in the hell, is it possible that this happens to someone MORE THAN ONCE???

The statistics are staggering. It almost hurts to think about it. So I won’t.

But, be honest, how often has this happened to you? Never? Exactly. It’s happened to me twice.

And I LIKED that damn CD. Mother(edited again . . .Gary has some rage that he needs to deal with today)freller!

I’m going to send it back to the manufacturer. With the CD pieces. I doubt they’ll do anything. It’ll be blamed on the user. I put the CD in wrong. Or I somehow compromised the overall inherent goodness of their product. I could talk to the record company, but that would be pointless. They would sue me for pirating and put me in jail with the college kids who set up that P2P server. Worse, I’d tell them during the interrogation that the reason why they’re suffering in sales is due to the fact that 98% of the music they put out is complete (Edited) (Edited) (Edited) (Edited) (Edited) (Edited) crud. Radio is a musician’s enemy these days.

Sigh. Oh well. I’ll go pick up a new drive today. Attempt to get my old drive replaced. Sigh. Why me?

Oh crap. Is that thunder?

Chapter Six: In Which Daddy Learns a Lesson

Being a parent is hard, hard work sometimes. You have to constantly guide your child through the pitfalls of life, lest she grow up to become the head of an international shoplifting ring and end up suing you for poor parenting practices and blaming you for her inability to love any being that isn’t covered in fur and stuffed with Styrofoam balls. Hey, it can happen.

While trying to accomplish the successful raising of a child, you often get . . . well . . . irritated. Kids confound you. They react to things in ways that you’ll never understand.

Case in point: Child splits her lip outside while playing. Blood is pouring everywhere. She comes inside, you clean her up, and she goes outside. Painless. Few tears, tough disposition. She stubs her shoe-clad toe on the way to brush her teeth in the morning and she screams for two hours, sobbing, holding her toe. When you finally say, “Okay let’s try to calm down” I swear she replies:

”Jabba mega nagala zo chabo!”

My child, in anger and frustration, has begun speaking Aramaic and has become possessed by the spirits of ancient children who have also stubbed their toes. She is angry because I do not recognize that there is a slight possibility that she has cause structural damage to her skeletal system and she may be plagued with a dull ache in her big toe for at least twenty minutes.

Now, keep in mind that I’m not talking about dire pain here. She stubbed her toe. WITH her shoes on. At the most it hurt a little bit. Not screaming for an hour pain.

But that’s beside the point. I didn’t recognize the pain and, therefore, I am a bad father.

Consequently, as a parent, you fear that your entreaties to become a better person are becoming like a rhymed boredom for the child. She’s heard it. She clearly doesn’t want to do it. Much like the Brian Wilson song, you end up sounding like this to her:

Eat a lot sleep a lot brush 'em like crazy
Run a lot do a lot never be lazy

But, let’s face it. She doesn’t want to go to sleep. She feels it needless to brush her teeth more than once a day because she’ll just eat again and they’ll get dirty. Run? Screw that. Drive me to the corner bus stop. And laziness? Hell, that’s a child’s right. “My coat is on the floor. Why I’ll step over it for six weeks rather than pick it up. Oh, and if I trip over it and hit my head, YOU are to blame. You’re a parent, pick it up damn it.”

Last night we spent the evening with the in-laws for my mother-in-law’s birthday. We ate, we had cake, and we watched a video I had made. Throughout the whole thing Matilda pouted. We didn’t eat cake when she wanted. We didn’t open presents when she wanted. Her sister was featured a little too much in the videos and then, to add insult to injury, we chose to watch something in which she was not the feature performer.

Throughout the whole thing I was aware that she was jealous. Jealous that her grandparents were sharing attention. That she wasn’t the queen of the moment. That her sister was getting laughs too. This was hard on her. She has been the reigning princess for years and now this little upstart who soils herself routinely is getting attention. That little bastard. Like hell she’s a princess too. She’s a mere Duchess. Matilda is the ruling princess. And we fear to disagree.

Her concerns are valid. And, I also realized that she might not be used to this feeling of jealousy. That being jealous is a totally new emotion for her. She doesn’t know how to rationalize it, or even swallow it for later bitterness. It was a pulsing, open nerve that we kept touching over and over.

Finally it was time to go. She sulked to the door and announced, very morosely, with drama, that she would wait for us in the car (siiiiiiiiiiigggggggggghhhhhhhhh). I followed her out the door with a speech planned.

“Matilda, I understand that you are feeling a little jealous because Grandma and Gertrude were getting a lot of attention tonight. It happens sometimes! Even adults wish they were the center of attention sometimes. It makes us feel good. However when you act negatively to gain attention, you get negative attention, etc. ad nauseum.”

To her it would have sounded like this:

“Blah blah blah blah blah. You aren’t valid. Blah blah blah blah blah. You aren’t important anymore. Blah blah blah blah blah. We’re selling you to the gypsies for half a goat and some plastic beads. Blah blah blah blah blah.”

To a kid, that’s what these lectures sound like. Constant invalidation of their feelings and, in some respects they are right. We don’t mean to do that to the kid. But sometimes in trying to teach right from wrong, good from bad, positive from negative, we forget that completely valid emotions are the source of the actions. That there is a good chance that the child simply has no other way to deal with the emotion. They simply don’t know how.

But it’s the Ward Cleaver in us that makes us act like, well, adults. We understand things through words. Kids don’t. Emotions are complicated and, damn it, they hurt sometimes. They hurt a lot. As parents we tend to accidentally forget that. In our quest to teach, we forget to get on the kid’s level. We forget to see where they are coming from.

Now, I’d like to say that I was stricken by a moment of brilliance or compassion. That suddenly I was super Dad who knew that the kid needed some reassurance that she was, indeed, valid.

But I can’t say that because it isn’t true.

I did, however, for reasons unknown to me, abandon that speech.

On the porch I stopped her and said, “What’s wrong?”

She placed her arm around me, her head in the middle of my stomach and sobbed, “I don’t know!” We hugged for a little while and went back inside.

On the drive home she proclaimed, “I like daddy. He respects my feelings.”

Without even knowing it, I did the right thing. I gave the child her voice back, her sense of importance. Not by lecturing, not by explaining. But by listening and recognizing.

Looks like I was the one who learned the lesson last night. Final Score: Child 1 Father 0.

Discuss In Which Daddy Learns a Lesson

Sorry

No post today. Too busy.

But Fluid Pudding is damned funny today.

I have nothing to say today. Nothing at all. Sorry. I’ll give you a bulleted list of some things that have happened lately.

· Troll Woman, now known as Gnome Lady because I got complaints from trolls, was reported to the Girl Scout Council. Let me tell you how bad I feel. This bad.

· My niece said this about the concept of a half hour: “It may seem like a long time, but it’s really just thirty minutes.”

· Gertrude can now use a fork to eat. She looks frighteningly grown up while she’s sitting there shoveling food into, or at least near, her mouth. As she does so she says “Eet! Eet! Eet!”

· Elvis Costello wrote a song called “Harpie’s Bazaar” years ago. I never knew what it meant until I saw a gaggle of angry Brownie moms, including my wife, discussing the official Girl Scout reprimand of Gnome Lady.

· War is still going on. I’ve stopped watching television. Whoever thought that it was a good idea to allow these reporters to travel with the troops and send back images via a crappy Webcam or something was an idiot. If I wanted that kind of picture I’d watch Real Player at 56k.

· Though it may seem like a good idea at the time, never mix coffee with No Doz. Not only will you start to see dead relatives, but also those dead relatives will be VERY angry.

· Two weeks from now I will be turning thirty. I’m putting together a list of my accomplishments thus far in life. So far all I have is potty training. Which is more than some St. Louis politicians can say.

That is all. Just for the hell of it I posted today’s play list, despite the fact that I won’t actually be around much to hear it. I have a ton of pages to review for a client plus we’re meeting with the realtors about the home inspection. I’ve put on the list that the Building Inspector noticed, “The basement does not have a home theater with digital projection. Please contact a licensed contractor.” Never mind that it’s in my handwriting. I’m asking for it . . .

Discuss

Just For Giggles--Friday Edition

Today's play list is odd, I think. Much of it isn't in English. And it contains a ton of Esqival. I can't really explain it. None of the music fits together, but that's what makes it work . . .

Aimee Mann - Lost In Space
Air - All I Need (Live On Kcrw)
Air - Ce Matin-La
Air - La Femme D'argent
Astor Piazzola - Adiós Nonino
Autour De Lucie - Comme Si De Rien N' Tait
Beastie Boys - Song For Junior
Beck - Tropicalia
Caetano Veloso - Eu Sei Que Vou Te Amar
Cinematic Orchestra - All That You Give
Combustible Edison And Esquivel! - Miniskirt
Cornelius - Girl Meets Cassette
Damon Albarn - Sunset Coming On
Esquivel - Begin The Beguine
Esquivel - Besame Mucho
Esquivel - Blue Christmas
Esquivel - Brazil
Esquivel - La Bikina
Esquivel - La Paloma
Esquivel - Misirlou
Esquivel - My Blue Heaven
Esquivel - Spellbound
Esquivel - Surfboard
Esquivel - Third Man Theme
Esquivel, Juan Garcia - La Paloma
Fantastic Plastic Machine - Mars Forever
Flaming Lips - In The Morning Of The Magicians
Flaming Lips - Race For The Prize
Flaming Lips - Spider Bite Song
Flaming Lips - Waiting For Superman
Flaming Lips - When You Smile
Flaming Lips - Yoshimi Battles The Pink Robots Pt. 1
Flaming Lips--All We Have Is Now
Flaming Lips--Do You Realize
Future Bible Heroes - Death Opened A Boutique
Gary Jules - Liquid Spear Waltz
Gary Jules - Mad World
Getaway People - She Gave Me Love
Gilberto Gil & Caetano Veloso - Desde Que O Samba
High Llamas - Anna Lee, The Healer
Kaliroots - Soldiers Of Babylon
Kid Koala - Music For Morning People
Ladybug Transistor - Catherine Elizabeth
Ladybug Transistor & Kevin Aye – Puis-Je
Lamya - Splitting Atoms
Magnetic Fields - Take Ecstacy With Me
Mike Flowers Pops - A Groovy Place
Mike Flowers Pops - Bowie Medley
Mike Flowers Pops - Light My Fire
Mike Flowers Pops - Please Release Me
Mike Flowers Pops - Venus As A Boy
Mike Flowers Pops - Wonderwall
Moe. - Recreational Chemistry
Mr. Scruff - Get A Move On
Nick Cave - As I Sat Sadly By Her Side
Nick Cave - The Mercy Seat
Nick Cave - The Weeping Song
Perez Prado - Cherry Pink And Apple Blossom White
Perez Prado - Mambo #8
Perrey & Kingsley - Computer In Love
Pizzicato Five - The Girl From Ipanema
Radiohead - [Kcrw Rare On Air (Acoustic) Vol.4] Subterranean Homesick Alien
Rockin' Teenage Combo - Pk And Olli's
Serge Gainsbourg - Requiem Pour Un Con
Sharpshooters -Feeling Fine
Si*Se - Cuando
Sloan - Everything You've Done Wrong
Stereolab - Brakage
Stereolab - Captain Easychord
Stereolab - Lo Boob Oscillator
Stereolab - Miss Modular
Stereolab – Outer Bongolia
Stereolab - Percolator
Stereolab - Rainbo Conversation
Steve Burns - My Eyes Are Full
Telepopmusik - Breathe
Wilco- Poor Places
Wondermints - Barbarella
Wondermints - Don't Go Breaking My Heart
Wondermints - Out Of Mind
Wondermints - Project 11
Wondermints - Sweetness
Wondermints - The Party
Zuco 103 - Fome Total

Just for Giggles Pt. 3

Also because my wife gets an email every time I update. Whenever I post these lists, her work's email filtering software quarentines the email because of profanity. Usually these post don't actually HAVE profanity. The ones that do, however, always go through. Go figure.

Here's what's spinning today:

Alva Star - Sanity
Apples In Stereo- Look Away
Ashley Park - Take Your Shoes Off
Audra & The Antidote - Jenny's Got A Boyfriend
Baby Lemonade – Long Train Rides
Bettie Serveert - Unsound
Beulah - Gravity's Bringing Us Down
Blinker The Star - Pretty Pictures
Bluetones - If
Bluetones-Autophilia
Boa - Duvet
Call And Response - Rollerskate
Candy Butchers - My Monkey Made A Man Out Of Me
Combustible Edison - The Millionnaire's Holiday
Continental Drifters - The Rain Song
Damien Jurado And Rose Thomas - Badlands
Damon Albarn - Sunset Coming On
Daryll Ann-Everybodys Cool
Departure Lounge - Music For Pleasure
Die Happy - Never The Flowers
Flaming Lips - In The Morning Of The Magicians
Folk Implosion - Natural One
For Stars - The Astronaut Song
Go Sailor - Ray Of Sunshine
Heavy Blinkers - From The Barnyard
Honeydogs - Wilson Blvd
Ivy - You Don't Know Anything
Jay Farrar - Clear Day Thunder
Kara's Flowers - Soap Disco
Kim Fox - I Wanna Be A Witch
Komeda - It's Alright Baby
Kristin Hersh - Me And My Charms
Lamb - Gorecki
Maroon 5 - Tangled
Masters Of The Hemisphere - The Dog Who Controls People's Lungs
Momus - Finnegan The Folk Hero
Mr Magoo - Mr. Magoo
Nan Vernon - A New Shade Of Blue
Pedro The Lion - Bad Diary Days
Pendletones - Brit Pop Girl
Richard Ashcroft - Crazy World
Richardashcroft - Songforthelovers
Robert Jansen - Rock Star
Shearwater - If You Stay Sober
Si*Se - Cuando
Sloan - Everything You've Done Wrong
Smart Brown Handbag - Ungrateful After All
Sparkle*Jets Uk - Monster
Spoon - This Book Is A Movie
Stereolab - Captain Easychord
Steve Burns - My Eyes Are Full
Steve Ward - Another Day
Tanya Donelly - The Night You Saved My Life
The Ladybug Transistor - Catherine Elizabeth
The Maroons - 9 1 2
The Shins - Caring Is Creepy
The Softies - The Best Days
Yum Yums - Here Comes Summer

Music from a Sparkling Planet

So, as I mentioned yesterday, we’re buying a house. A real house, with plumbing and a foundation and a yard and a driveway and electricity and water and everything else that can go wrong in horrible and expensive ways.

I’m looking forward to it, in a way. I’ve always wanted to walk into the house carrying power tools with dust-lust in my eyes. Attack! Drill! Mitre! Saw! Destroy! Destroy!

Maybe that’s not the best attitude to have. I should love my house, not be looking at ways that I can possibly make more holes in it. It’s a beautiful house. Really. But there’s something about those smooth, uninterrupted expanses of wall that are just BEGGING to have holes smashed in them in the name of “renovation”. Sure, there’s nothing wrong with them, per se. They just need to be violated.

The basement of our soon to be home is filled with all sorts of groovy wood paneling and red carpeting. I look at the wood paneling and groan. It’s so . . . old. It makes me feel like an Irish guy circa 1963 who decides to finish his home and sasy, “why that wood paneling complete with marks for knots would be perfect! Let’s party.” Granted, I am an Irish guy. Only it’s forty years later. It should be dry wall painted in a smart Learning Channel approved color.

And yet, I also look at that wood paneling and start daydreaming about the gaudy decorations of yesteryear. I want to buy a gold velvet couch. I want to hang Sputnik Clocks (thanks to Cory for having the only impressive collection on the web), I want to have shag carpeting and play Henry Mancini albums. I want to drink martinis out of tinted plastic glasses and eat hotdogs off of toothpicks and discuss the merits of allowing women to wear pants. I want to wear avocado sweaters and ugly pants. I want Elvis glasses. And everything in the house will be fake. Fake everything. Plastic everything. It’s the future you know! And I’ll call my wife Muffy, for various reasons.

I’ll also decorate various areas of the house with atomic symbols and Feynman diagrams. That would really mess up the neighbors.

“Um, what’s that picture with the squiggly lines and dots and arrows? Is that some sort of modern art?”

“Of course not. That’s a Feynman Diagram for a Drell Yan process creating magnetic monopoles. And over here you will find a framed print of Dirac’s Equation. Ooh, and that’s the Uncertainty Principle on that wall!”

“And what’s with all the dots with circles around them?”

“Those are designs from the fifties that illustrate the atom. Very retro-chic. Would you like to see my collection of Esquival albums? Are you into Space Age Bachelor Pad music? It’s groovy. Let me get my smoking jacket and Keds and we’ll go down in the basement to check out the grooves.”

“My kids can’t play with yours. I’m sure you understand.”

Most of all, I want a house that Darian Sahanaja would be proud of. One that he could walk into and automatically feel like he’s in Esquival’s bizarre kitsch brain in the midst of a fever dream. Something that, when you walk in, you can’t help but say, “My, this is certainly . . . groovy.” But not in a Brady Bunch sort of way. More in a Perrey-Kingsley or Richard Wattis sort of way.

Not that Darian Sahanaja would ever step foot in my house. The invitation is there, of course. We can share our love for sixties pop over a cup of Costa Rican Pea Berry. But, I doubt he’ll show up. Darian, give me a call. We can groove to Esquival together.

But I know for a fact it won’t happen. We’ll decorate it in a tasteful, but unique, modernity that will satisfy our creative urges without scaring the crap out of our neighbors.

Sigh. We always take the easy way out. Oh well, maybe I’ll blast Nick Cave at the neighbors on Sundays. That’ll freak ‘em out.

Either way, I won’t believe any of this house business until the loan check is in the hands of whoever gets it and I have the keys. (By the way, getting a home loan is about as pleasant as getting anally raped by a raging group of monkeys who are strung out on Ecstasy and Ludes.)

Discuss

No Update Again

Sorry for the lack of update again. Meetings! Meetings! Meetings! Building Inspectors, realtors, sellers, buyers, ombudsmen, psychics, tarot card readers, proctologists. I've met with some of them in the last few days. The other ones scare me beyond belief.

I will get the write here again. And actually share real thoughts. But probably not this week. Maybe next week. Or something.

My thirtieth birthday is coming up. Buy me something. Right now we need furniture for the new house (didn't mention that? We got one . . . but I won't believe it until the keys are in my hands.) However, if you wish to buy me something from my Amazon wish list, go ahead.

No, you don't have to. I'm just kidding. (No I'm not. Buy me something.) I'm not hung up on material possessions. (Except books, DVDs and CDs. And electronics.) But you can get me the TV and the Segway. God knows I won't be plunking down the cash for either in the near future. Besides, I want to be the crazy neighbor who tools around the neighborhood on the newfangled "scooter machine."

In the meantime, Discuss Your Theory on Why Gary REALLY Isn't Posting.