OK, enough already. Should've done this months ago, but I'm finally retiring this blog for now. I might start it back up eventually, but odds are that this will be another headstone in my graveyard of abandoned projects. The livejournal linked on the right is occasionally still updated and any further junk will be posted there. Feel free to de-link if you haven't already. Thanks to anyone who read any of this stuff.

Obligatory April post because I didn't want to break my 26 month streak of posting something in this thing, even if for the past year it's mostly been excuses for not posting. There's an inverse relationship between my productivity at work and my internet timewasting and I have not yet mastered the correct balance between workslack and interwebwritingslack. Read the High Hat Blog, if you haven't already.

Hey, even though there are a hundred million MP3 blogs out there, why don't I post a few MP3s of songs I've been enjoying lately? That will kill a few minutes and fill some space on this blog for sure!

"Program Me," Bruce Haack. From the 1970 album Electric Lucifer, which is some sort of concept album about war (he's against it) and technology (he's for it, maybe? this part is unclear). Electric Lucifer is a electronic psych rock album that's both ahead of its time (heavy use of synthesizers and vocoders several years before it would become commonplace) and extremely dated (simplistic hippie anti-war sentiment). This particular song, with its robotic groove and anthropomorphizing of technology, reminds me of Devo minus the irony. (This MP3 has a skip from the vinyl near the end. Sorry, but what do you want for nothin'?)

"No Escape," Cabaret Voltaire. For some reason, I always avoided these guys until recently. (Their suffocatingly dour public image, which led me to believe that they would be monotonously grim and dull? Dislike of the countless groups that copped from them later in the 80s? My intense dislike of that rascal Ferris Bueller, who had a poster of the CV album Micro-Phonies in his room for some reason?) I was wrong, their early stuff is great: claustrophobic, atmospherically creepy, grimly evocative of bleak late 1970s industrial decay. It's all the good things about watching Eraserhead without having that cow fetus thing rattling around in your memory space forever. This is a cover of a Seeds song that blows away the original, driven by a simple organ riff and a rickety 4/4 drum machine pattern that repeats itself into your cerebral cortex. And like almost all early Cab songs it's got that omnipresent primitive synth squall that sounds like that thing at the dentist's office that sucks out the saliva from your mouth.

"August Morning Haze," Oneida. From the upcoming album The Wedding, half of which is that good ol' dark droning psych stuff America has come to love from Oneida and half is a stab at baroque, stringladen minor key pop in a Zombies/Left Banke style. This is one of those string-adorned songs, albeit one that is dominated by guitar and banjo with the strings providing color rather than carrying the arrangement. The chorus to this song has been stuck in my head ever since I first heard it. This kind of music is a tightrope between pretty melodicism and overly ornate rococo fluff, and Oneida walks it deftly thoughout The Wedding.

"Gone! The Promises of Yesterday," The Mad Lads. This is from the Volume II of the Stax/Volt complete singles box, circa 1971 when Stax's grasp on the R&B charts was starting to weaken. I never heard this until it came up on iTunes Party Shuffle, and it's not hard to hear why it wasn't a big hit - it's kind of a strange song, with the bass singer ominously interjecting the title and one of the Lads repeating the word "away" in a weirdly obsessive manner for the last minute of the song's duration. It's great, though, those incredibly melodramatic soul string arrangements and the "promises promises" chorus swirling around to that catchy yet haunting finale.

"Oh Lord," Brian Wilson. From the infamous sessions circa 1981 where Dennis Wilson would ply Brian with bags of coke and McDonald's hamburgers in a failed attempt to rouse him from his long stupor. This is the one piece from that bootleg that is worth hearing, although it's a frustratingly fragmented and poorly recorded mess. There are elements here that would make a great song if it had been completed: the funereal organ playing a 1950s doo wop progression slowed down to a crawl, the "let me hear their song" verse melody that recalls classic Beach Boys songs stripped bare of all of their youthful optimism, the lilting organ coda. Hearing Brian break the sad tranquility of this song by shouting out "Oh Lord, please let me see all there is to see" in a cracking, pain-wracked voice is one of the most jarring and disturbing moments I can recall hearing in music. Honestly, this song makes me feel uncomfortably voyeuristic, like I'm intruding on someone else's private turmoil. Nevertheless, it's an incredibly raw, gorgeous, moving piece of art.

I'd like to take this opportunity to wish a fond farewell to CBS news anchor Dan Rather on his recent retirement. Even though it's lights out, Katie bar the door, say your prayers Aunt Ethel for Dan's career, his place in journalistic history is assured. Whether digging for the truth on Watergate like a West Virginia coalminer on a meth binge or reporting from Vietnam where danger was thicker than molasses on an old woman's dentures, Dan Rather has been an institution in America's media universe for half a century. Without Dan Rather's familiar presence, the 6:30 nightly news will seem emptier than a pig roast in Tel Aviv. While Rather's critics have been madder than a drowning hen with epilepsy over the Bush National Guard controversy, even the most ardent naysayer would admit that Dan Rather will cast a shadow like a buzzard picking out a hobo's eyes on the highway at high noon. When Dan Rather spoke, you could print it, go with it, take it to the bank, yell it while running down the street, write it on post-it notes and slap it on your cubicle, use it as the tenets of a new religion. Dan Rather's career proved the wisdom of that old Texas adage, "You can take a bag of chicken livers to the old barn dance, but don't ever slap your grandmother on washing day without a permit from City Hall." Dan Rather will be missed like an old whore's lost innocence.

Yesterday was the second anniversary of the first post in this blog. I would post a mock-celebratory tribute to myself here if I wasn't so ashamed of the infrequent and erratic tack that my posting schedule has taken in the past six to eight months. Well, every blog eventually devolves into an endless stream of apologies for not updating and broken promises for new content, mine has just matured a little faster than most others. Instead, let's resurrect an old feature on this thing that I discontinued because I hate almost everything. Here are three things that rule at this particular moment:

1. Safeway's Red Cherry Rush soda. Finally, someone has perfected the art of the cherry soda that isn't too sweet and has a little bite to it - and it's Safeway?!? Yes, believe, skeptical ones. I have a mild addiction to this stuff and spend many an evening soothing my weary soul downing a can of this stuff while listening to 60's garage rock records on Beyond the Beat Generation. It's become my regular regimen after a long, brutal day at work.

2. Netflix + owning a DVD burner. Sorry, MPAA, but I've stolen a ton from the music industry and now it's your turn to get ripped off large. And admittedly, rearranging my Netflix queue is almost providing me as much entertainment value as actually watching movies.

3. "Tribulations," LCD Soundsystem. I was starting to lose interest in the DFA (don't really care for about 75% of DFA Compilation #2) and I'm still undecided about the rest of the LCD Soundsystem album, but this is a killer song. Their best groove since "Yeah" + creepy, vaguely new wave goth synthesizery + great chorus vocal hook = excellence. This is my favorite type of musical pastiche where you can enjoy the song on two levels: on the spot-the-musical-reference level and on the fuck-it-this-is-just-awesome level.

The new restaurant Cereality is taking the nation by storm. (OK, maybe not "taking the nation by storm" so much as "getting a few mentions in various daily newspapers' lifestyle pages." Just play along, thank you.) It's a brilliant idea: take something that even the most domestically unskilled person can make and charge them a huge markup for it on the basis of convenience because young urban types are often unfamiliar with concepts like "preparing food for oneself" or "buying food that can be eaten at home."

In the spirit of Cereality, I'm now announcing an exciting new restaurant venture: Say Tomato and Cheese, the nation's first restaurant that only serves grilled cheese sandwiches and Campbell's tomato soup. Stop in for a grilled cheese sandwich, a bowl of Campbell's tomato soup, or our special combo of a grilled cheese sandwich and Campbell's tomato soup. Too busy to cope with the rigors of dipping your sandwich into the soup? Then try our predipped grilled cheese sandwiches drenched in warm Campbell's tomato soup fresh out of the can! Dieters can try our lighter menu: a half of a cheese sandwich or a half of a can of Campbell's tomato soup. (For those hardy stragglers who are stubbornly clinging to the Atkins diet, we also offer a Atkins-friendly pile of grilled cheese without the bread. Plus, you'll be happy to know that our servers have been specifically instructed not to make fun of you or mutter "that is soooo 2003" when you order it.) Adventurous types can try the Cheesato Tornado, a special blend of grilled cheese sandwiches, tomato soup and special ingredients mixed together in our blenders for an incredible taste combination. (Did I say "special ingredients?" Nah, sorry, it's just Kraft singles and Wonder Bread.) And to simulate the grilled cheese and tomato soup experience, all our meals are served in cracked, unwashed cereal bowls and 1987 Miami Dolphins plastic plates originally offered by the Mobil corporation and washed down with either a glass of near-expiration milk or half a can of flat Pepsi. Say Tomato and Cheese isn't just a restaurant, it's a whole new experience in dining! And coming in fall 2005: Ramental Illness, the world's craziest prepackaged noodle bar!

Rare, unreleased tracks from James Brown's recording studio:

- "Slight Fever (And a Sinus Headache)"
- "Look at That Chick's Cakes (And By Cakes, I Mean Her Ass)"
- "It's a Man's Man's Man's Societal Power Structure"
- "'Funky' Would Be One Word I Would Use to Describe This Song"
- "Grits 'n Gravy 'n Latkes"
- "Funky Secretary of Labor (People, John T. Dunlop is Bad)"
- "Say it Loud, I'm 1/16 Cherokee and I'm Proud"
- "I Got to Put My Thang in a Funky - Ah, Hell, Who Am I Kidding, I'm Not in the Mood for This Today"

For the past three years, I've been posting on the I Spit on Your Groove music nerd message board, which consists of some of the smartest, funniest people on the whole goshdarned interthing. Unfortunately, the board's home teeters on the brink of joining pets.com and webvan.com in that great browser cache in the sky. So, for future generations, here are the better entries I made to the world famous ISOYG riff threads. This is, essentially, what I did with my mid-20s. Note: a failure to get most of these jokes may indicate a lack of focus on stupid pop culture trivia and a balanced, healthy perspective on life.

The Movie Titles Thread:
Tora! Tora! Spelling!
Secretary 2: Sadomasochistic Boogaloo
Atlas Shtupped
Annie Get Your Gun (After a Background Check and a Seven Day Waiting Period)
Full Denim Jacket
Francis the Talking Heroin Mule
Guess What's Crawling On Dinner
Bring Me a Plate of Fettucine Alfredo
Panty Raid on Entebbe
The Phish That Bored Pittsburgh
Andy Hardy Gets Jungle Fever
The Texas Chain Restaurant Massacre (On the menu, murder...with a side order of jalapeno poppers.)
You Can't Take It In You
The Fall of Haim
The Merzbow Incident
The Cook, The Thief, His Wife, The Stable Boy, Two Midgets, The Cal State-Fullerton Womens' Swim Team, The Night Watchman, The Delivery Man, The Naive Co-ed and Her Lover
American Juggalo
The Taking of Jello 1-2-3
The Days of Weinberger and Roses
U.S. News and World Report's European Vacation
Death and the Maidenform Woman
Bikini Savings and Loan
Bikini Pawn Shop
Burn Cambridge Burn - A Village Smithee Film
Bowling for Combines (a documentary focusing on gun violence among Nebraska corn farmers)
Smilla's Sense of Entitlement
Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Yawn
Alice's Texas Chainsaw Restaurant Massacree
Bill and Ted and Carol and Alice
Scream, Chocula, Scream!
Harold Robbins' William Shakepeare's Romeo and Juliet
The Guns of Provolone
Meet Me in East St. Louis
Seven Brides for Seven Samurai
Gimme Tax Shelter
Dead Man Powerwalking
A Panini Ain't Nothin' But a Sandwich
That Third Place Season
Fellini's Troma
Polterzeitgeist
Veto Vito: Bill Kill Vol. 1
The Popeil of Greenwich Village

Worst Possible Band Names Thread:
Olivia Newton John Donne (debut album: Let's Get Metaphysical)
Godspell You Black Choreographer!
Hawley-Smoot Overdrive
Hot Pockets of Resistance
Ghostface Keillor
Racially Pure Prairie League (skinhead band covers 1970s soft rock favorites)
Screamin' Stephen Hawking
Bob Marley and the Hartford Whalers
Coagulation of the Filling
Alfalfa Male
Al Kaline Trio
Tayback Machine
Hieronymus Beotch
The Self-Preservation Jazz Band
Camryn Mannheim Steamroller
Dead White Hope (or: Really Really Thin White Hope) (a tribute to then recently deceased Bob Hope)
Flying Reddenbachers
Jews for Deezen
...And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Bread Crumbs (indie rock band whose lyrics all come from Grimm's fairy tales)
Inanimate Objectivists
The Whigga Party
Rage Against Gene Gene the Dancing Machine
Honkeypox
Sucker MC Escher
Kafka Eskimos
Tabitha Soren and the Loneliest Monks
Pop Tarts Will Eat Themselves
Lenny's Reef Installers
Fonzie Scheme
Shock and Jive
Hall and Ass

The "create a reality show" thread:
All Women are Money Grubbing Whores
The new dating reality show that dares to say what "Joe Millionaire" and "For Love or Money" are only thinking.

Survivor: Upper East Side
Twelve young heirs are cut off from their trust funds for a month. The winner is the one who manages to survive without accepting a demeaning minimum wage job, pawning off any personal belongings or moving to Staten Island.

The Pitch
15 strangers are selected by the Fox network to pitch ideas for new reality shows. Points are awarded for the ability to copy existing ideas without being sued by a competing network, the creative use of washed-up b-list celebrities, and avoiding rehab for cocaine abuse.

The Album Titles Thread:
Show Me The Way to the Next Ice Cream Bar - Doors Songs for Kids!
Smith and Wessonality
Love in the Time of Cold and Flu Season
And Cotton Mather as The Beaver
Terror Alert Level Blue is the New Terror Alert Level Yellow
Mavis Staples Teaches Typing
I Get Knocked Up, But I Get Down Again
The Nizzle of the 'Narcizzle'
Two Seven Elevens Clash
Thug a Lug: The West Coast Rap Tribute to Roger Miller
The Law of Joementum Conservation
Dustin Diamond is a Very Funny Fellow...Right!
Flogging Joey Bishop
Roadkill is Manslaughter
Gangster Lean Cuisine
Handbags and Doorags
I Paid For This Coffin (a tribute to the late 40th president)
The Shadow of Your Simile
A Prairie Home Longtime Companion
Persona au Gratin
Douche ex Machina
Will the Circle K Be Unbroken?
Honky Tonkin Resolution
Hussein in the Membrane
Hitchens Brew
Utica Calling

Worst Possible Thread Titles Thread:
One Man Come on a Barbed Wire Fence - The Taking Lyrics Out of Context Thread
Cardinal Tettamanzi or Adolfo "Shabba-Doo" Quinones - Who Should Be the Next Pope?
Down with Toquemada - Protest the Canadian Inquisition Here
He Hate Me, But I Love Him - The Dysfunctional Relationships with Former XFL Players Support Thread

I was going to post something about the much ballyhooed switch of DC's WHFS to Latin contemporary last week, but work is kicking my ass right now. So here are a few disconnected thoughts a week later, now that no one cares any more:

- WHFS never meant anything to me personally, but it is a good thing to see it put to sleep after years of slow decay. Stumbling onto the later incarnation of HFS on the radio dial was kind of like flipping channels and seeing that ER is still on the air: a "WTF, this is still on?" reaction combined with vague embarrassment for all involved.

- Longing for the old, diverse HFS is a pipe dream. People who value music and want to hear a variety of things are already being served by iPods and/or satellite radio, so commercial radio will most likely become even more tightly formatted as it tries to appeal to the 12-CD owner who wants to hear the same general songs during their workday. And freeform radio sounds great in theory, but in practice almost no one listens to it and it's commercial anathema. (Even WRNR, which many former HFS listeners tout as some sort of alternative, is a. programmed to an extent and b. apparently devoted to an ongoing experiment to see how many different times Jack Johnson can be played in an hour.)

- Rock radio is in a death spiral of confusion and irrelevance right now. Rap-metal seems to be sputtering out (praise be to Odin), the Killers/Franz Ferdinand school of slicked up dance post-punk is doing OK saleswise but isn't really a commercial juggernaut, and there's nothing else really filling the gap. Hip-hop radio has displaced rock for the most part, with a dwindling number of fading classic rock stations and confused-sounding "modern" rock stations raging against the dying of the light. I'm not a "rock is dead" guy; a majority of my favorite musical stuff right now could probably be filed under "rock," but Animal Collective or the Fiery Furnaces or Destroyer isn't the kind of stuff that fits comfortably beside beer ads or inspires 17 year old kids to blare out of the windows of their parents' station wagons. The era of rock dominating everything is long gone (for the best, I'd say), but I worry that complete and total disengagement from the rest of the culture will just create an artform of museum pieces endlessly recreating the same moments in time. Clearly, what is needed is rock protectionism! Subsidies to our hard-working (and -rocking!) bands! Tariffs on hip-hop CDs! Dick Gephardt smashing crates of Lil Jon CDs to the cheers of a bemulleted crowd in Des Moines!

- The alternative rock station of my youth (which, in retrospect, kinda sucked but was a revelation to 14 year old me on Maryland's Eastern Shore) switched formats all the way back in 1997 to fucking sports talk radio, which was even more appalling (although, again in retrospect, this occurred at almost the exact same time that mainstream alternative rock radio went from "kinda sucks" to "completely sucks goat balls"). For once, the Eastern Shore was on the vanguard of culture! But maybe not; amusingly, x107 has apparently come full circle and is now playing bad modern rock again! Maybe there's hope that rap-metal will rise again on WHFS! As Karl Marx (who had the 2-6 slot on Seattle's famed KJET during the mid-80s) once said, "History repeats itself twice, first as retro, then as ironic mocking of retro."