Archive for July, 2010

I Like Records 41

a phone call:

Me: Hello, Jacks music. Can I help you?
Woman: Who is this?…What’s your name?
[I hate giving my name out over the phone, sometimes I’ll say my name is Chet.]
Woman: Alright, Jim. I have a problem with a turntable…
[this part took about five minutes and I didn’t get most of it down, it seems that she bought a Sony turntable and wasn’t happy with it so she called Bose who makes her stereo and they recommended an Audio Technica or a Stanton turntable. She was quizzing me about these turntables. She then talked about a pre-amp she had]...So I was going to Best Buy and I had the pre-amp in the car but it was at least 150 degrees for five days and I didn’t dare open the car and I think the heat might have damaged the pre-amp, so I went to Radio Shack and they don’t know anything..know what I mean..
Me:…yeah, they’re idiots
Woman: Thank you. Especially the manager. he’s in a wheelchair and he has an attitude a mile wide. I don’t know what happened to him, maybe he’s angry because he’s in a wheelchair, I don’t think he even has legs. So maybe that’s why he has attitude and I don’t feel that I can be mean to him because of his wheelchair and if I judge him it’ll show on my face…you know?
Me: …Yes, it’s hard to judge somebody and not show it.

Woman: No, it’s not. I can judge somebody and they’ll never know I’m doing it…Guess how old I am
Me:I give up.
Woman: I’m 88, I don’t sound it do I…No, I don’t…Know how I got this old?…No TV, nope, it’s the boob tube and I don’t drink…well maybe a glass of Pinot Grigio from time to time and I listen to the radio, WOR, WABC. You know who I love…Joan Hamburg, she competes with Rush Limbaugh, I listen to a little of Joan and then I go to my Rush. I love Joan, she talks about the Hamptons…mmmmm…ok…I’ll call back about the turntable.

Around Red Bank

There’s a sculpture of Bruce Springsteen in Jacks Music front window, a few weeks ago the artist who sculptured it asked if he could display it. Since there was a live Springsteen DVD being released one of the managers said it would be ok. Now I’m hardly qualified to comment on the actual sculpture but it’s the presentation that gets me. The head is on a piece of rebar jammed into a block of wood, with the words “The Boss” scrawled in red paint. It looks a little creepy like something from Lord of the Flies.

the sculpture

lord of the flies

Nerd Theater

a used Ornithopter

Used Car Dealer on Dune
by Tim Cronin and Matt Boudiette

[the scene: a used car dealership on Dune]

CustomerHey, I’m no mentat but this used Ornithopter is pretty expensive and I’m more than a little worried with all the miles on it.

Used Car Salesman– That’s perfectly alright, sir. We don’t want a Gom Jabbar here. You shouldn’t be worried, fear is the mind killer and this baby has been in for all it’s regular maintenance and oil changes. What do we need to get you in this Ornithopter today?

Customer- You guys always use the “fear is the mind killer” thing when somebody has a legit gripe, c’mon how about lower the price a bit.

Used Car Salesman- Mmmmm I’m gonna have to talk to the Kwisatz Haderach, wait here.

[the salesman goes to see the Kwisatz Haderach, 5 minutes pass]

Used Car Salesman– Sorry, no can do, but he did say we could throw in free undercoating.

Customer- Sold!

I Like Records 40

A "tam o'shanter" or "tam"

My band had a show at Maxwells friday night and it was really good. Maxwells is an oasis for bands, they get treated ridiculously well there. Anyhow, while it was a great night, it was miserable outside. It felt like a giant dog was breathing on you and it was a late night for me as I had to be in work at 9am, I don’t snap back like I used to. The day was wretchedly slow and shitty. A Bataan death march towards 6pm and freedom, by late afternoon coffee had lost any of it’s effectiveness. It was about ten to six and this kid came in looking at posters, just some teenage kid but he was wearing an oversized tam o’shanter crocheted with the colors of the Jamaican flag. If you wear dreads, then fucking tam away my friend. This kid had no dreads, it was just part of his “it’s all good, man” look and I hope he was stoned because stupid like this is a goddamned crime. I know I was dead tired and I know I was probably “old man grumpus”, but this goddamned kid got on my last nerve:
Kid- Do you got this Sublime poster?
Me- Yeah, it’s right there in the number 8 slot.
Kid- Number 8?… whaaat?
Me-Yeah, it’s poster number 8, the number on the poster goes with the slot.
Kid- Sublime is number 8?
Me- yeah, it’s right there
Kid- I don’t…uh…Sublime?
Me- Do you see the numbers?
Kid- yeah
Me- Do you see number 8? that’s the Sublime poster
Kid- I don’t see number 8…I see 15….I see 16…I see 17…
Me- It’s the row above that
Kid- row..above that?
Kid- …oh…yeah…

I was a shell of a man when I left work.

I Hate Me, Part 100,932

[I’m pretty sure this took place in 1987]

Survival Research Labs (SRL) was and still might be a California based collective that specialized in “Robotic Mayhem”. I’m sure there was a brainier aspect and an artistic manifesto attached to them, but I was crazy about the performances. I would watch their live performances on grainy nth generation videotapes. There was a real sense of chaos on those videos; fire, some explosions and creepy robots menacing the audience. Some of the robots incorporated animal carcasses, so there might be a shambling robot with a rotting horses head and rotating knives. Looking back though it could be described as “Truck-a-saurus for hipsters”* and maybe it was, but I was 25 and it was fucking cool. Anyhow, I found out that SRL was having a performance in the parking lot of Shea Stadium, of course I got tickets and took my brother Matt. He wasn’t really a fan but the promise of fiery robotic mayhem was a strong incentive (Note: Matt swears there was a third person who went with us, but I’m not sure there was.). The big day came and it was pissing rain, we got a bunch of beers and headed up on the train. It was still raining when we got there and the parking lot was set up with portable bleachers. Everything was soaked and the pleasant effects of an afternoon drunk were beginning to fade quickly. Having said that, I was still pretty psyched. My brother, less so and I continued to try and sell him on a destructive robotic apocalypse that even on their best day SRL would be hard pressed to pull off, and this wasn’t their best day. Giant robots didn’t move in the rain and fires quickly turned into greasy black smoke, the only thing that seemed to work well was a cannon that fired fluorescent light tubes, which was at best ok.  I was pretty bummed out, Matt swore he’d never forgive me and I can’t say I really blamed him. It was a long train ride home.

*quote attributed to Zack Konow aka “Captain Meanheart”**

**”Captain Meanheart” nickname by Pat Dean

From My Collection

I couldn’t find any other good Polka records, at least not as good as Stanky and his Pennsylvanian Coal Miners.   Here’s a couple of covers that I like for different reasons. The first is Very, Very, Villegas (columbia, 1956) a record by jazz pianist Enrique Villegas, it’s got a cool modern art thing going with a good use of photography. The second is Tito Puente and Friend, I would have thought he had more than one friend.


R.A. Dickey

Paint it blue, slap a Mets logo on it and give it to Beltran

But I don’t have shit today. I know it’s a shitty excuse but, I was in the middle of writing something last night and listening to the game (AZ-3/NY-2) and the goddamn Mets wasted another start by 35 year old phenom R.A.Dickey. Can they fucking put together a goddamn rally and score some runs and does Carlos Beltran need a fucking Rascal when he’s playing center field…So the upshot is I was hypnotized by the Mets ineptness and didn’t finish what I was writing, which was sub-par anyway. Ugh.