Why You're Here:

You've said to yourself, "beauty walks a razor's edge, someday I'll make it mine."

You've often thought about what it would have been like to drop acid with Groucho Marx.

You know that until you measure it, an electron is everywhere, and your mind reels at the implications.

You'd like to get drunk on the wine from my sweet, sweet mind grapes.

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

Imposition of Will: Now Hear This

Okay, people. I thought about it, long and hard, and have concluded that the best musical act people don't take seriously enough is Steely Dan. I'm not 100% sure why that is, but it likely has to do with the '70s (on which we can blame oh so many things, including my birth), the ubiquity of their best-known (but not necessarily best) songs on classic-rock stations, and the limiting and only-partially-descriptive term "jazz-rock" used to describe them.

As any major dude will tell you, there's way more to them than that. Them, specifically, refers to the duo Donald Fagen (on the left) and Walter Becker. I see them as a mind-melded single entity, like Jagger and Richards, McCartney and Lennon, Captain and Tenille. Steely Dan as a band-proper only lasted for a few years and a couple albums. After touring tore them down and the benefits of recording with L.A.'s best session musicians became too clear to ignore, the Dan became Fagen, Becker and an army of contributors.

When people call their music "jazz-rock" they're not wrong, but they leave out two extremely compelling components. First, they sling catchy pop hooks like a fat man in a greasy apron slings hash. Why have you heard songs like "Reelin' In The Years", "Rikki Don't Lose That Number", "Peg", "Black Cow" and "Hey Nineteen" on the radio for decades? Because they're fucking catchy, that's why. Before Steely Dan, Fagen and Becker worked in the Brill Building writing pop songs, that's how.

Second, a sophisticated love of language (just look at them--don't they just scream sophisticated?) They can turn a phrase and choose the right word for the right spot with the best of 'em. They can reveal thoughts to you that your own brain wasn't capable of forming on its own. They wield this talent to tell odd, dark slivers of stories that take place on the fringes and in the shadows even in the full light of day. More important, Fagen's voice is the most perfect delivery for all of the above. After all, it's the Dan's secret ingredient--lots of people can play music at the jazz/rock intersection, and lots of people can pen abstract, literate lyrics, but Fagen's voice takes all of that and, well...have a listen, won't you?



Steely Dan remain my favorite music for driving around the streets (not the freeway) in Los Angeles after lunch. They're just too misanthropic to listen to any earlier than that. On the freeway, they're wasted both on traffic jams and on wide-open speed.



See what I mean? How can you not want to "drive west on Sunset to the beach"?

To me, the Dan will always be so evocative of 1970s Southern California. And the more you listen, the easier it is to see why. But the perverse magic of it is that Fagen and Becker are dyed-in-the-wool New Yorkers who moved to Los Angeles for professional reasons and they loved nothing more than casting their jaundiced eye upon its corrupting influences and surface beauty. But without Los Angeles, there'd be no Steely Dan. Of course, while there, they found out that living hard will take its toll.



After releasing Gaucho in 1980, they didn't record again til 2003, though they resumed touring in the mid-'90s. Why? Who are you to ask such an impertinent question? You put out that much awesome you can do whatever you want, ok? Them's the rules!

So, if you're going to dive in to their catalog, you can't go wrong with any of their albums from 1972's Can't Buy A Thrill to 1980's Gaucho. My personal favorite is 1976's The Royal Scam, which many idiots regard as their weakest. Their best album is probably 1977's Aja (if you ever meet a girl named Aja, now you know why.) They returned to the studio in 2003 with Two Against Nature, which won the best album Grammy, though that was really a lifetime achievement award. And I haven't heard the follow up, Everything Must Go, but I'm sure I will eventually. Regardless, stick to the '70s and you'll be fine.

But if you're just gonna go to iTunes and cherry-pick some songs, let me suggest the following:

Any Major Dude Will Tell You
Barrytown
Everyone's Gone to the Movies
Kid Charlemagne
Gaucho
My Old School
Pearl of the Quarter
Sign In Stranger

That said, I suggest buying the remastered albums, which contain liner notes written by Becker and Fagen. If you'd like to know from whom I've bitten my writing style, you should start there.

Extra Credit: Google "Steely Dan Owen Wilson" and also "Steely Dan Wes Anderson". Whether you do that before or after becoming familiar with their music is entirely up to you.

Extra Extra Credit: Fagen has recorded three solo albums; Becker two. Once you work your way through the Steely Dan oeuvre, this is where you'll turn for a fix. You won't be disappointed.

And remember, don't tell your mama, your daddy or mama, they'll never know where you've been.

Read more...

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

Taken Out Of The Ballgame










What's on my mind? The Big Blue Wrecking Crew. Their success this season--so far--has not been a source of joy for me, difficult as it may be for you to believe. Rather, it's salt in the very fresh wound that is my recent move from Los Angeles to New York. Having gone to so many games over the past 10+ years, having lived within ear-shot of The Happiest Place On Earth (see accompanying photo) for the past seven years, having bled Dodger Blue since I was listening to Vin Scully in my mother's womb, well...not being there now just stings.

Over the past few seasons I'd developed a thick skin and a well-earned skepticism regarding their prospects (prospects for doing well, not prospects like Ethier, Kemp, Kershaw, et al.--I've been been nothing but enthusiastic about our slew of youngsters). I expected the worst and never made much of any positive pre-season speculation or pennant-stretch heroics. Even Steve Finley's ridiculous grand slam couldn't light me up because I knew we were just playoff cannon fodder. And we were.

Clearly, this season is different. Their record reflects it, and from what I'm told everybody can feel it. Damn if I don't want to hear about it. Because my heart aches when I think about it. I'm talking about actual, not figurative, pain. I'm not able to watch them unless they play the Mets or are on ESPN. And when I do it's not especially pleasant. And yes, I could pony up for the MLB Extra Innings package or listen on the internet or Sirius, but that misses the point.

Why? Because I can't share the excitement. I can't listen to the sports radio blather. I can't sit in the Reserved Section with MWB, talking about life, love, and baseball, or just sitting there enjoying the National Pastime in silence. I can't eat Dodger Dogs--one with ketchup and yellow mustard, one with brown mustard, relish and onions.

Sigh.

If I've learned anything from losing a loved one, it's that the pain will fade, even if the extent to which the loss truly fucking sucks never will. So you eventually learn to get on with it.
Will that be when the pennant races heat up and the playoffs loom large? Maybe. Maybe it will be next season. I don't know. But I do know if you cut me open one hundred years from now I'll still bleed Dodger Blue.

And remember, no matter what happens this season, "...it's root, root, root for the Dodgers, if they don't win it's the SAME."

Read more...

Friday, July 24, 2009

A Feather In His (Dunce) Cap

If true, gotta give credit where credit is due.

I can't disagree with Mr. Bush's characterization of the pardon process, esp. in light of how the fellow who preceded him wielded that constitutional wand.

(ignore the "read more" click-through)
Read more...

Men Much Smarter Than I

I've been trying for months to condense my thoughts and feelings about the socio-political effects of the economic meltdown so I could post about it, but a man's got to know his limitations.

So, taking Mr. Callahan's advice, I highly recommend reading the following email exchanges between a former Goldman Sachs investment banker/author whose books "predicted the housing market crash, the financial crisis and the election of Barack Obama when Obama was still a little-known underdog" and a former chief economist at the International Monetary Fund.

You can read their two follow-up exchanges here and here.

Now, I'm no economist or investment banker, and my post would have been full of "motherfuckers", "bullshit", and "until blood flows like wine", but I think they mostly get my point across.

OK, time to get back to googling "how to build a guillotine". While doing so, I'll be listening to this:

Read more...

Monday, July 20, 2009

4.5 Hours Logged

If anybody ever puts a gun to your head and asks you what's the best music montage in movie history, here's your answer:



Now, if you knew the answer before you clicked through, well, you're either Bart Rachmil, me, or Wes Anderson.

Anyway, enjoy.

And say a prayer for Surf Boy, wherever he is.

Read more...