Category Archives: What I’m Listenting To Lately

What I'm Listenting To Lately

My Trip to Amoeba.

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Edie Sedgwick porn

It’s such a beautiful day in Los Angeles I think I’ll sit in my little apartment and listen to all my new things and blog.

Eastside Records in Tempe, AZ, is my very favorite record store in the whole wide world. (If you’re ever in Tempe, stop by…then walk around the corner to Casey Moore’s and have a beer.) It’s certainly not the best record store in the whole wide world, but one of my oldest and best friends owns it, and his employees are all like Jack Black in High Fidelity, and they’ve acted that way long before Jack Black and High Fidelity, and that’s just one of the reasons it’s my very favorite record store.

I love Amoeba. I know I’m not the only one, and I know some people hate it, but damn. The more I go, the more I think I’m addicted to that place. It very well may be the best record store.

Just cause it seems I no longer have the capacity to blog about porn — and all the Porn Princesses I am fortunate enough to encounter — I’ll bore you with how I spent some of my smut money Friday night:

13 Most Beautiful…Songs from Andy Warhol’s Screen Tests by Dean Wareham & Britta Phillips: I’m full of love. I loved Luna. I love Dean and Britta. But I love Andy Warhol even more. Way more. And I love Edie Sedgwick most of all. I think if Edie were alive today, and she didn’t come from money, she woulda found her way to Porn Valley and been The Next Jenna. For real. Cause that’s how hot Edie Sedgwick is. Or was. Cause if you don’t know this already: Edie Sedgwick — She Dead. Do you know about Warhol’s Screen Tests? Or that Edie’s brother was called Minty? Anyways, this is a DVD of 13 superb screen tests with songs by Dean and Britta and this is the very first set of screen tests officially released by The Warhol Estate and if I were you I’d buy it immediately.

I Am Not Afraid of You and I Will Beat Your Ass by Yo La Tengo: OK, I admit it. I bought this record solely on its title. And cause I haven’t bought a Yo La Tengo record since 2003. Besides, “Mr. Tough” alone is worth the price of admission:

Hey Mr. Tough
Don’t you think we’ve suffered enough?
Why don’t you meet me on the dancefloor
When it’s Tiny Tom time?
And if you need to tell me something once
You won’t have to say it twice
And if you ask for a nickel
I’m gonna hand you a dime
And we’ll forget about our problems
Ignore them for a little while
And leave our worries in the corner
Leave them in a big big pile
Pretend everything can be alright

Merriweather Post Pavilion by Animal Collective: The following is a conversation between myself and Crazy Mat Who Moved From Michigan to Oregon. I use the term “crazy” in an affectionate way, so lay off. I’d also like to add Crazy Matt’s tastes in music are impeccable — with the exception of Battles. But hey…everyone makes mistakes. This means whenever I am in Amoeba, I usually text Mat for advice. Wanna hear the weird thing? Just as I strolled into Amoeba, Mat txt’d me:

Crazy Mat: I wonder if you know an ex skin flick girl from here: Claire Robbins? She’s quite the fox. She lives near me. She’s a stripper now.

Billy Watson: I dunno. I might have lucked out and banged her in a hot tub back at Dogfart’s secret mansion a few years ago, if it’s the same girl I’m thinking about. I am at Amoeba. Do I go with The Muslims or Animal Collective?

CM: Did you bang her on or off camera? The Muslims are now called The Soft Pack. Fun garage rock!

BW: I don’t bang girls on camera. Animal Collective or The Soft Pack?

CM: I’d get the Animal Collective for sure. You’ll love it. Like an electronic Graceland. It has a techno feel with Paul-Simon like songs.

BW: OK. Animal Collective it is. I just dropped $200. Fuck me. Now off to Roscoe’s.

CM: Let’s trade lives. Oh! To be Billy Watson eatin’ chicken and waffles and banging women for a living!

BW: Dude, it ain’t all that. I’m turning into a lonely old curmudgeon who sits at home at night smoking dope and listening to bands formerly known as The Muslims and now calling themselves The Soft Pack.

ULTRALOAD or Beware via chijimi or just chijimi by Bonnie Prince Billy: I love love love 10″ EP’s. And I have no idea what the fuck to call this. It’s not part of Beware, Prince Billy’s latest full-length record, and if you visit Drag City, they don’t even list the EP. What am I missing here? What the fuck is an Ultraload? Is that some new cyber-term this old man hasn’t heard of yet? Cause if it is, then I’m a dork. Would someone please enlighten me? At least they put a sticker on this that says “chijimi is not part of Beware” — so that helps me out a bit. But at the bottom of the sticker is says “This is Ultraload” so I’m just lost. Is this an age thing? Cause if so, man…does getting old suck. No Room For Old Men! Should I txt Crazy Mat?? Oh… Prince Billy is Will Oldham is Palace Brothers is Palace Music. So shove that in your bong and smoke it, hippy.

Astral Weeks Live at The Hollywood Bowl by Van Morrison: I’ve going to shows since June, 1978. That’s when I caught Van Halen on their first world tour. Never once has a record been released of a show I attended…until now.

for Emma, forever ago by Bon Iver: Just cause everyone seems to be going nutso lately for Bon Iver. I’ve been on the sidelines, until now. Once I finish up with the Yo La Tengo record, I’ll let ya know what I think.

Super Fun E-mails, What I'm Listenting To Lately

Super Fun E-mails: Y33BA

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Your 33 Black Angels

Your 33 Black Angels writes:

Greetings from Brooklyn!

Last year, Your 33 Black Angels released its debut album, “Lonely Street,” to rave reviews, which you may have heard, or most likely, wrote yourself! Thanks!

NOW, the band is back with the release of its second full-length album, “Tales of My Pop-Rock Love Life,” which is available NOW! The double-LP is once again pressed on limited-edition vinyl and comes complete with a hand-printed cover. It is also available on non-limited-edition CD. The official release date is a week from today.

The album can be purchased at independent record stores across the country, or through the band’s website, Y33BA! It is also now available through iTunes, starting today!

Enjoy!

The band recently completed its second national tour of the year, once again going to coast to coast across this wide country. If we didn’t see you, we’ll see you on the next tour! Let us know if you’d like to preview some tracks, some of which can be heard on our myspace.

Most sincerely,

Benji John JR Josh Steve
Your 33 Black Angels
____________________

Last year I gushed all over Y33BA and their debut record, Lonely Street. So when I got this e-mail, I decided to post it right away. The problem is “right away”, cause I think it’s been about a month now, and I’m such a Big Fat Loser I kinda lost track of time with everything I’ve been doing and I spaced posting this…or even writing this reply.

Until now.

I just walked in the door from Thanksgiving with The Peeps.

“The Peeps” would be my parents, not the super fun (and now long defunct) All-GRRRL punk rock band from my hometown — Phoenix AZ.

Speaking of Phoenix, that’s where I went. I did what you did, which was lay around and load up on turkey and watch movies and spend Quality Time with The Peeps.

Oh! I love my Peeps. Know why? They accept me even though I make filthy, dirty smut. I think it’s the one thing I was so very thankful for this year.

I make the world’s best interracial sex movies and my parents are OK with it.

Well, at least to my face. I don’t think they’re 100% cool with it all the time, and sure, my mom wishes I woulda got that mighty fine tenure-track position at the local community college. Sometimes, I wish that, too. Just sometimes. In fact, thinking about it right now, I would just about be tenured.

No, I would be tenured. I think being tenured is just about the silliest thing a teacher can earn, mainly cause they can’t fire your ass — at all. I mean you could just about walk into class naked with a raging boner and start jacking like a monkey in the zoo and sure, that would be your last day in the classroom, but, with a semi-decent lawyer, you’d be reassigned to some bullshit desk job in the middle of nowhere on campus for the rest of your days.

Pretty sweet, huh?

You’re probably not wondering this at all, but I scored the following fine slabs o’ black-as-coal vinyl on Black-As-Coal Black Friday:

1) music from the motion picture Black Snake Moan: I love Black Cock Sluts. Really, I do. I know quite a few of them, too, mostly cause what I do for a living…which is employ them and point a camera at them while they’re doing their thing. Christina Ricci is the penultimate BCS in Black Snake Moan, and this record is pretty damn cool.

2) William S. Burroughs’ Break Through in Grey Room: So it’s 1997, and I’m living in San Francisco, and going to grad school, and selling books on the side to make some extra scratch. I don’t really talk too much about this here, cause it’s none of your business, and it has nothing to do with porn, but here I am blogging about non-porno shit, so might as well tell you this story about a Speed Freak who shows up the day I’m at the Buying Desk with a handful of letter Burroughs wrote to him a decade earlier, when Burroughs was still (somewhat) approachable and not too world famous…yet. Anyways, they were great letters, and I paid the dude $150 for all six, which I sold minutes after he left for $300, and I was patting myself on the back thinking how great I did doubling my money in about a minute and a half. Of course I was The Dope, as the dude I sold them to turned about about got $300 per for them, and now they’d be worth way more than that. I thought about that story when I plopped this record on the counter to pay for it. Oh — it’s pretty cool, too. Some kooky juxtapositions and Burroughs reading over them, and Burroughs just reading. Grab one while you can. I hear they only pressed 800 of these.

3) Fight On, Your Time Ain’t Long: I’ve got a whacky Ex who lives in Portland, OR, a town I love very much. Portland proper. Fuck Gresham, and Beaverton, and all those silly places…but Portland is a great town cause it’s very liberal and very, very non-corporate. Which is to say when I go there me and The Ex eat breakfast at Joe’s Place, drink a beer at Mary’s Place, buy a book at Mike Powell’s place, then watch a movie at one of many, very cool, very hip art houses that sell you pizza by the slice and beer by the mug. Anyways, there’s a cool neighborhood called The Mississippi around a street called — you guessed it — Mississippi Street, and now there’s a label called Mississippi Records out of Portland, Oregon’s own Mississippi neighborhood, right on Mississippi Street, and they’re putting together old, obscure blues compilations with tunes like “Wouldn’t Mind Dying” and “Your Enemy Cannot Harm You” by musicains with names like Bukka White, Mamie Forehand, Willie Mae Morris, Bo Weevil Jackson, and Kid Prince Moore. Doesn’t get much cooler than that, huh?

4) Jimmy Radway & The Fe Me Time All Stars Dub 1 — Pressure Sounds ’61: An impossible-to-locate dub record that was issued around 1975 and is now readily available for less than 20 clams. Not too bad, considering an original copy might set you back a grand. I’m still learning about Roots, and Dub, and Ska, and Rocksteady, and Trojan (the label, not the rubbers), and Prince Buster (what a great porn name for male talent!) and Duke Reid and Coxsone Dodd, so don’t expect much from me here, ok?

Oh! Shit! I almost forgot!! I logged into iTunes and grabbed Tales of My Pop-Rock Love Life by the very talented, very hip Your 33 Black Angels and I fucking dig it. But before I get into that, I kinda owe the band an apology. Last Spring I talked to those guys about playing a gig in my porno studio, and I totally dropped the ball. They were down to do it, and I was down to host it, and then, suddenly, a month past, and I was so caught up in work and shit that I totally spaced their SoCal appearances, and the next thing I know it’s too late.

I’m such a tool box.

One thing I’m not is a music critic, or a music writer. I know what I like, and I like these guys a lot, for a number of reasons, none of which I feel like talking about now, cause a pal just phoned me and said Holly Golightly is playing a gig at Spaceland.

Spaceland is a total dump and the last time I was there — hanging outside before a Frank Black gig with my pal Adrianna — they were so rude to me I swore I’d never return.

But it’s Holly Golightly, and she’s got a new band called The Broke-Offs, and she hardly ever plays the U.S. — at least that I can recall.

Holly used to run around with Billy Childish, for whatever that’s worth; I’m sure if you asked her she’d say something like, “not much.”

I dunno. I should go. I guess it depends on how good these new records are, and whether or not I feel like dealing with the dopes at Spaceland.

What I'm Listenting To Lately

In Memorium: Mitch Mitchell

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Mitch Mitchell

Mitch Mitchell — the dude to Jimi’s right — has died. They’re saying it’s natural causes.

He was Jimi’s drummer, and the last surviving member of The Jimi Hendrix Experience.

He was 61.

(The dude to the left — Noel Redding — died about 5 years ago. He blew out his liver).

(You may have heard Hendrix suffocated on his own puke, but no one knows for sure; that was in 1970).

Mitchell was found about 3 a.m. Wednesday in his room at the Benson Hotel in downtown Portland.

Musicians and hotel rooms don’t mix very well.

He had just wrapped a leg of touring for “Experience Hendrix” tribute tour. I’ve never heard of “Experience Hendrix”, but I might have gone if I was aware of it. I guess he only played one song the night he died, and he looked pale and sick, and he needed help walking into the auditorium.

I went ahead and pulled out Electric Ladyland whilst banging out this entry, and by the time they were ripping thru “Crosstown Traffic”, I had my stereo playing much louder than my neighbors prefer, but fuck them.

They’re actually very nice Armenians, and I like them well enough.

One of the docs at the Multnomah County Medical Examiner’s Office thought Mitchell may have not sought medical help because “sometimes people don’t realize how sick they are.”

Funny — or not so funny — but doesn’t that make a whole bunch of sense?

Sometimes people just don’t realize how fucking sick they are.

Nothing To Do With Porn, What I'm Listenting To Lately

Van Morrison — Astral Weeks.

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Alice Bell interview

Forty years ago this month, Van Morrison released his very first (depending on who you ask) solo record, Astral Weeks. He had just quit as the singer of Them, which you might (or might not) know, but I’m sure you know about their hit “Gloria”, as in G-L-O-R-I-A Gloria; I’m sure you don’t know The Doors opened for Them during the band’s 1967, three week stint at The Whiskey A Go-Go, and, in one of Them’s final shows, Jim Morrison jumped up on stage with Van Morrison to belt out “Gloria” for one of their final encores — ever.

Imagine that — the two Morrison’s screaming “G-L-O-R-I-A!” before almost anyone knew who Jim Morrison — or The Doors — were.

It doesn’t get any better than Astral Weeks. Really, it doesn’t. Just about every music rag places Astral Weeks in its Best Of Lists; Lester Bangs called it “the rock record with the most significance in my life so far” (he died a few years later); I scored it an 8 on the Billy Watson I Shoot Porn Top 10 albums ever made list.

It’s not only Van’s masterpiece, but a masterpiece of modern music, and, like all masterpieces, no one really paid attention to it when it was released, and the record company didn’t really promote it, and for years no one really cared about it.

So when I saw Van was coming to the fabulous Hollywood Bowl last weekend to play Astral Weeks in its entirety, I was all over it. I even forked over 350 Clams to sit as close as I could to Van and his mini-orchestra…as well as two of the last surviving musicians who played on the record.

350 Doll Hairs is a whole lotta bread to fork over just to see a show, but lemme take a sec and defend my decision:

1) It’s Astral Weeks, god damnit. From beginning to end. Catching a Van Morrison show really isn’t a big deal — cause he still tours somewhat frequently — but catching him playing anything off that record is, cause, well…he just won’t play tracks off Astral Weeks. (He also doesn’t do “Brown-Eyed Girl” or “Gloria”).

2) It’s The Hollywood Bowl, god damnit. What a great place to hear a show. Plus, ever since I was a kid and shelled out 6 bucks for a copy of The Beatles at The Hollywood Bowl, I’ve had a weird affinity for that place.

3) I’m flying solo. No date. As in Mr. Lonely Guy. I’ve never been to a show by myself — ever. Why not start now? Plus, if I bought a date, we’d be talking 700 sheckles, which is steep. But solo? I’m there!

4) Then, the day of the show, I read he’s doing two sets, cause they’re gonna make a DVD / CD of the whole shin-dig, and the first set will be a greatest hits thingy — with “Brown-Eyed Girl” and “Gloria” in it — and the second set’s Astral Weeks, and once he does this show, that’s it. As in Van’s done. He’ll tour again, but there will be no Astral Weeks tour.

So I went to the show.

And it ruled.

I sat near the fat dude from Superbad; actually, I sat in front of him.

After Van walked off stage and the house lights went up, I headed home, but before I got there I ordered a plate of Chicken Nachos and a Diet Coke from my favorite taco stand in LA.

I made it back just in time to watch Bill Maher and n’joy mis nachos.

Then, as usual, I took my medicine and fell into a deep sleep.

Random Thoughts, What I'm Listenting To Lately

Milk n’ Cookies.

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Milk n Cookies

Moving is such a pain in the ass. And I know you know this already, but still…can I say it again?

Moving sucks balls. Big ol’ donkey balls.

It doesn’t just end when you drop the last box in to wherever it is you’re moving into. I know you know this already, too.

I’ve been in my new digs now almost 3 months, and I’m still unpacking shit.

And where the fuck did I get it all?

For me, it’s mostly books and records…mostly. A lot of unopened mail, too. So much unopened mail I know there’s something wrong with me.

Well, there’s lots wrong with me, and not wanting to open mail cracks the Top 10 List of What’s Wrong with Billy Watson; hence, I have a box full of unopened mail that’s probably 6 months old. It’s got those dust bunnies floating all around inside, and I bet this unopened letter from the IRS is something I should have opened when I got it back in March.

Oh, and do I really need 3 copies of Don DeLillo’s Underworld?

And 2 copies of Issac Hayes Live At The Sahara Tahoe?

What good is a full run of McSweeney’s…many in duplicate? Perhaps someday I will eBay them.

I’ve grown somewhat embarrassed of my “Black Americana” stuff. Well, let’s be honest. I’m really embarrassed of it. Sure, having a 1/2 full tube of original Darkie Toothpaste or an Aunt Jemima steel bank might have been cool at one point, but I’m over it.

I think I’m gonna sell everything I don’t really need anymore. Or else pull out all the stuff I have more than one of and haul it into Amoeba, or a good used book store…or fuck it. Maybe I’ll just pack some boxes and drop them off at Goodwill. It’s right down the street, and I’m sure someone will really appreciate a VHS copy of the Go-Go’s, backstage in, like, 1984, doing naughty things. Or were they talking about doing naughty things? I really don’t know, cause I haven’t watched this stoopid thing since 1992, when I got it, and even then I watched it once and tossed it into a closet.

The Go-Go’s!

I’m banging this blog out when there’s a knock at the door. Since no one knows where I live, it’s certainly a mystery as to why anyone’s knocking at my door at 10.30 on a Saturday morning…but it’s the post man! And he’s got a package for me!

There’s nothing better than real mail….even if it’s more stuff to deal with!

That’s right — just as I’m bitching and moaning about all my stupid stuff, here’s the mailman…handing me more stupid stuff. This time it’s a record I found off the internet by a super obscure 70’s glam rock band called Milk n’ Cookies.

Here’s a band no one’s ever heard of that was in the middle of the whole CBGB’s punk rock scene circa ’75, and, from sitting back to listen to side 1 before banging out this paragraph, I’d say it makes sense no one’s ever heard of them. It’s not that they suck in as much as there’s nothing really special at all. In fact, the record kinda sounds like something The Bay City Rollers would have made if they were hanging out at CBGB’s with The Ramones and Television instead of living in Edinburgh, cutting their pants short and getting all kooky with the tartan.

Writing about Milk n’ Cookies makes me wanna go out to Amoeba and spend more money on records. Matthew Sweet’s got a new record out that’s supposed to be as good as “Girlfriend”, and a friend in Portland is texting me to check out a band called “Battles”.

And, while I’m at it, I still really haven’t explored the used bookstores in Los Angeles.

Oh yea…there’s also a great flea market at Fairfax High.

More books.

More records.

More stuff…cause, eventually, I’ll figure out a place to put it all.

stories from porno land (some amusing, some not), What I'm Listenting To Lately

Poor Amy.

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Amy Winehouse

It seems like just the other day.

I was alone in my Porno Loft, working at the editing bay on a Manojob scene, when I first heard “Rehab”, and I liked that song so much I quit working on the Alexia Sky hand job movie and started blogging.

Early March, 2007.

Sirius Radio, channel 26.

“Rehab”.

But, like all new stuff, the shine eventually starts to fade, and, while I still like Amy Winehouse, well…she’s a mess. Complete and utter.

But I still love that song.

And I just read she might be brain damaged from all the dope. Well, they’re saying she may be brain damaged “after a 36 hour marijuana marathon”. She also flopped around like a fish a few nights ago, “like a scene from ‘The Exorcist.'”

(Wouldn’t it have been a laffer if, right after she spewed some pea soup during her seizure, she launched into “Rehab” — but in the Devil’s voice instead of her own — and then laughed really hard and marched out of the Emergency Room?)

This is absurd, of course. I mean about her most recent drug overdose. I don’t know why they’re mentioning the weed when they say, in the very same paragraph, she also “binged” on crystal meth.

What a joke. Weed? I don’t care if you smoke all the weed in Humbolt County…if anything fucks your brains up, it’s meth.

Weed just makes you wanna eat Oreos with an ice cold glass of skim milk, right? Even if it is in “inhuman” amounts.

Anyways, a few days after I confessed my love for Amy Winehouse, Spaceland announced a show, and as soon as I heard that, I called Faceblaster, who has an in at Spaceland, and asked for two tickets.

Which I got.

Which Winehouse canceled soon thereafter.

I was crushed. Well, not really crushed, but bummed. Kinda.

How great would it have been to catch Winehouse is a 200 seat venue? When she was still on the edge of her cliff, and hadn’t fallen yet?

I kept those tickets, though. I coulda bought them to Space Land and got my 30 clams back, but the collector in me kept them….just in case.

Just in case someday they may be worth more than the 30 bucks I shelled out for them.

Nothing To Do With Porn, What I'm Listenting To Lately

Someone ripped off The Stooges. And Mike Watt.

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The Stooges

I got a myspace bulletin today that really sucks ass. I just blogged about the Stooges — specifically that Raw Power was runner-up on my all-time top 10 record list — so, I felt I’d do what they asked at the bottom of the bulletin: PLEASE FORWARD AS FAR AND WIDE AND AS QUICKLY AS POSSIBLE!!!

Take a look at some of the equipment the assholes ripped off.

IGGY AND THE STOOGES
EQUIPMENT STOLEN ON AUGUST 4, 2008
OUTSIDE THE EMBASSY SUITES HOTEL
208 SAINT ANTOINE OUEST,
MONTREAL, QUEBEC, CANADA

all equipment was in a rented penske 15 foot yellow truck with u.s. (michigan) license plate number AC46493 and the theft had to have happened in the morning, between 6:30 and 7:30 am

there’s a web page that will soon have pictures and updates to more stuff found missing

Item Country of Origin Serial Number

Red roadcase containing: USA No serial number Red Gibson 1963 EB-3 bass (this is mike watt’s bass!) USA No serial number

Black roadcase containing: USA No serial number
Reverend Flying V guitar – Volcano black USA #08001

Black roadcase containing: USA No serial number
Reverend Orange guitar USA 03416 ZSL7

Black fibre case containg: USA No serial number
Gibson red SG short scale bass USA No serial number

Black roadcase containing: USA No serial number
Marshall Vintage/Modern Amplifier UK M-2007-07-0926-2 RoHS

Black roadcase containing: USA No serial number
Marshall Vintage/Modern Amplifier UK M-2007-07-0927-2 RoHS

4x Marshall 4×12 Cabinets (with Tuki cover) UK #1 Slant:
M-2007-05-0149-0

4x Marshall 4×12 Cabinets (with Tuki cover) UK #2 Straight:
M-2006-49-0380-0

4x Marshall 4×12 Cabinets (with Tuki cover) UK #3 Slant:
M-2007-05-0150-0

4x Marshall 4×12 Cabinets (with Tuki cover) UK #4 Straight:
M-2006-49-0381-0

Orange Calzone road case containing:
Guitar pedal board and pedals USA/Japan No serial number
Assorted leads USA/UK No serial number
2x mic stands Germany No serial number
Assorted strings and spares USA No serial number
plus:
2x Boss TU2 Chromatic Tuner
Boss CH1 Super Chorus
Fulltone OCD Overdrive
Crybaby Wah
Peterson Strobo-Stomp Tuner Pedal
Whirlwind A/B Boxes
Whirlwind Cable Tester
and many many istrument cables
various tools ( screwdrivers, soldering iron, pliers, etc… )
tambourine and maracas

Cardboard box containing:
Assorted replacement drum heads USA No serial number

Gretsch Silver Sparkle Catalina drum kit USA No serial number
26″ Kick Drum No serial number
13″ Rack Tom No serial number
18″ Floor Tom No serial number
4x Cymbal Stands No serial number
1x Snare Stand No serial number
1x Hi Hat Stand No serial number
1x Drum Throne No serial number

Eden D810 Bass cabinet USA D810RP4 0703E5001

Eden D810 Bass cabinet USA D810RP4 0703E5002

Cardboard box containg:
Eden VT300 Bass amplifier USA 0601E5115

Cardboard box containg:
Eden VT300 Bass amplifier USA 0507E5033

Floor Fan CHINA No serial number

Floor Fan CHINA No serial number

Green clamshell suitcase containing:
Yamaha snare drum JAPAN No serial number
Yahama kick pedal JAPAN No serial number
Zildjian Mega Bell cymbal USA No serial number
Zildjian 15″ Hi-Hats USA No serial number
3x Zildjian 18″ 19″ 20″ crash medium cymbals USA No serial number

Brown Epiphone guitar case:
Black Epiphone EB3 short scale bass KOREA F300503

PLEASE FORWARD AS FAR AND WIDE AND AS QUICKLY AS POSSIBLE!!!

if anyone has information, ANY INFORMATION!
please, please, PLEASE as soon as possible contact
Eric Fischer at:
nycentral13@gmail.com
cell phone: +1 646 932 1907

Nothing To Do With Porn, random raves, Random Thoughts, What I'm Listenting To Lately

NME names the Top 100.

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Reaction to NME top 100 list

I love lists.

I think I’ve mentioned this before. When I was a kid, and we’d go on family trips to Florida, I’d lay in the back of my dad’s van and read Wallace and Wallechinsky’s The Book of Lists. It’s funny, cause looking back, I realize reading that book was my earliest exercise in critical thinking. It was more than just flipping through weird lists of odd things. For me, it was wondering: why do people hate Nixon more than Hitler? What are the 10 words you can’t pronounce correctly? And can I pronounce them? Which world leaders were assassinated…and why? And why in the world does it take an elephant so long to have a baby, when it only takes a possum a few weeks to do it?

I was entertained for hours.

And when I was bored with the book, I’d beat my little sister up. Or sit on her face and fart.

Before they went out of business, Tower Records published a totally worthless magazine, but I always picked it up, cause the first few pages featured “Desert Island Discs”, which were nothing more than readers’ top 10 records they had to have if they were stuck on a deserted island. Silly, of course, cause a deserted island would never have a stereo system — let alone an electrical outlet for your record player — but the reader lists made for some might fun reading.

And, for me, the lists always boiled down to a reaction that went something like this: what a dumb ass! He ranked Tusk higher than The White Album!! Fucking faggot!!!

In 1987, Rolling Stone made their first top 100 ever list, and I remember Sgt. Peppers being #1, and Never Mind The Bollocks being #2, and that made sense to me…then they fucked almost everything up.

That Rolling Stone issue also had the famous photograph Bob Gruen snapped of The Pistols…the one where they were ticking straws in their ears at the diner table. Or maybe it was John Rotten sticking his straw into Sid’s ear. (I had to look at that picture one more time to remember it correctly, cause it’s been about that long since I last saw it…and guess what! You can buy a copy!)

Just recently NME published their top 100, and it’s simply god awful. And if you thought NME’s was bad, get a load of this.

Both are bad…to a degree, of course.

Cause lists like this are published to do nothing more than make you read them and think things like what a dumb ass! They ranked an Oasis record higher than Sgt. Peppers! Fucking faggots!! And where’s Jim Hendrix?! And there’s two Oasis records on their top 10?! The Stone Roses?! Are you kidding me? Meatloaf is #25?! Mike Oldfield before Bob Dylan?! The Velvets are where!? Shania Twain!? NO RAMONES!!! WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS!

Before I give you NME’s list, I’ll give you mine, and I’ll expect yours when you comment on all this mess. All this mess will, of course, include my list. And while I’m at it, a few words on my list:

1. It changes all the time. Sometimes daily, sometimes monthly.

2. I have different lists for different occasions.
a) A list to try and impress a girl.
b) A list to piss off music snobs.
c) A list to piss off a drunk.
d) A “real” list, in which I employ a certain criterion to judge all art I choose to judge…which is to say everyone has an opinion on anything any artist creates, and the only sure-fire way to accurately judge something beyond your own tastes is to judge it on how said piece of art has influenced other great artists working within a particular field…which is to say Robert Johnson should be in a pop music top 10 list, just as Marcel Duchamp needs to be on everyone’s favorite artist’s list, as Andy Kaufman needs to be everyone’s top 10 comedian…right?

With that said, here’s my top 10 best records ever, as of right now, which is to say 10 am on Tuesday morning, July 29, as I sit in my little brother’s front room in Arizona, stressing over the amount of work I still have to do in order to get the rest of my shit to Los Angeles…and finally, this as a “D” list:

1. The Velvet Underground: The Velvet Underground and Nico.
2. The Stooges: Raw Power.
3. The Beatles: Revolver.
4. Miles Davis: Kind of Blue.
5. The Sex Pistols: Never Mind The Bullocks.
6. Meat Puppets: II.
7. Big Star: Big Star.
8. Van Morrison: Astral Weeks.
9. Nirvana: Nevermind.
10. Liz Phair: Exile in Guyville.

And here’s NME’s:

1. Oasis: Definitely Maybe 1994
2. The Beatles: The Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band 1967
3. The Beatles: The Revolver 1966
4. Radiohead: OK Computer 1997
5. Oasis: (What’s The Story) Morning Glory? 1995
6. Nirvana: Nevermind 1991
7. The Stone Roses: The Stone Roses 1989
8. Pink Floyd: Dark Side Of The Moon 1973
9. The Smiths: The The Queen Is Dead 1986
10. Radiohead: The Bends 1995
11. U2: The Joshua Tree 1987
12. The Clash: The London Calling 1979
13. The Beatles: The The Beatles (White Album) 1968
14. The Beatles: The Abbey Road 1969
15. Libertines: The Up The Bracket 2002
16. The Sex Pistols: The Never Mind The Bollocks 1977
17. Led Zeppelin: Led Zeppelin IV 1971
18. David Bowie: The Rise And Fall Of Ziggy Stardust 1972
19. Queen: A Night At The Opera 1975
20. The Strokes: The Is This It 2001
21. The Killers: The Hot Fuss 2004
22. The Beach Boys: The Pet Sounds 1966
23. Jeff Buckley: Grace 1994
24. Manic Street Preachers: The Holy Bible 1994
25. Meat Loaf: Bat Out Of Hell 1977
26. Guns N’ Roses: Appetite For Destruction 1987
27. Kaiser Chiefs: Employment 2005
28. The Beatles: The Rubber Soul 1965
29. Fleetwood Mac: Rumours 1977
30. The Libertines: The Libertines 2004
31. Verve: The Urban Hymns 1997
32. Green Day: American Idiot 2004
33. Coldplay: A Rush Of Blood To The Head 2002
34. Blur: Parklife 1994
35. Michael Jackson: Thriller 1982
36. Pink Floyd: The Wall 1979
37: R.E.M.: Automatic For The People 1992
38. Franz Ferdinand: Franz Ferdinand 2004
39. Mike Oldfield: Tubular Bells 1973
40. U2: Achtung Baby 1991
41. Pink Floyd: Wish You Were Here 1975
42. Rolling Stones: The Exile On Main Street 1972
43. Simon & Garfunkel: Bridge Over Troubled Water 1970
44. Led Zeppelin: Led Zeppelin II 1969
45. Blondie: Parallel Lines 1978
46. Dire Straits: Brothers In Arms 1985
47. Bob Dylan: Blood On The Tracks 1975
48. David Bowie: Hunky Dory 1971
49. Coldplay: X&Y 2005
50. The Who: Who’s Next 1971
51. Keane: Hopes And Fears 2004
52. Coldplay: Parachutes 2000
53. Abba: Arrival 1976
54. Pulp: Different Class 1995
55. The Velvet Underground: The Velvet Underground + Nico 1967
56. Love: Forever Changes 1967
57. Marvin Gaye: What’s Going On 1971
58. The Rolling Stones: The Let It Bleed 1969
59. The White Stripes: The Elephant 2003
60. The Pixies: Doolittle 1989
61. Muse: Absolution 2003
62. Elton John: Goodbye Yellow Brick Road 1973
63. Queen: Sheer Heart Attack 1974
64. Shania Twain: Come On Over 1997
65. Prince: Sign O’ The Times 1987
66. Pearl Jam: Ten 1991
67. Kasabian: Kasabian 2004
68. Green Day: Dookie 1994
69. Muse: Origin Of Symmetry 2001
70. Kate Bush: Hounds Of Love 1985
71. Bob Dylan: Blonde On Blonde 1966
72. The Jam: All Mod Cons 1978
73. Joni Mitchell: Blue 1971
74. The White Stripes: White Blood Cells 2001
75. Suede: Dog Man Star 1994
76. Metallica: Metallica (Black Album) 1991
77. Human League: Dare! 1981
78. Joy Division: Closer 1980
79. Nirvana: In Utero 1993
80. AC/DC: Back In Black 1980
81. Arcade Fire: Funeral 2004
82. Razorlight: Up All Night 2004
83. Madonna: Ray Of Light 1998
84. Bruce Springsteen: Born To Run 1975
85. Led Zeppelin: Physical Graffiti 1975
86. Arctic Monkeys: Whatever People Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not 2006
87. Queen: A Day At The Races 1976
88. ABC: The Lexicon Of Love 1982
89. Spice Girls: Spice 1996
90. Depeche Mode: Violator 1990
91. Snow Patrol: Final Straw 2004
92. T. Rex: Electric Warrior 1971
93. Alanis Morissette: Jagged Little Pill 1991
94. Joy Division: Unknown Pleasures 1979
95. Radiohead: Kid A 2000
96. Electric Light Orchestra: Out Of The Blue 1977
97. The Smiths: The Smiths 1984
98. Jimi Hendrix: Electric Ladyland 1968
99. Rage Against the Machine: Rage Against The Machine 1992
100. The Eagles: Hotel California 1976

Sex Pistols with straws

What I'm Listenting To Lately

Gay 4 Wilco.

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History of Wilco

I’m so gay for Wilco, I’m listening to The Autumn Defense right now.

I’m so gay for Wilco, I traveled to Berkeley CA last August to watch them play the Greek.

I’m so gay for Wilco, I read Greg Kot’s book — from start to finish.

I’m so gay for Wilco, I went out and bought their book, and Sam Jones’s documentary “I Am Trying to Break Your Heart”, as well as Tweedy’s solo DVD, “Sunken Treasure”…and his book of poetry.

I’m so gay for Wilco, I almost shelled out 100 bucks for a minty copy of Summerteeth on eBay a few months ago. And I regret not doing it now.

I’m so gay for Wilco, I bought Gia Paloma a T-shirt from the Los Angeles show, which was just a few days after the Berkeley show.

I’m so gay for Wilco, I complained about how bad the LA show was, in comparison to their Berkeley gig.

I’m so gay for Wilco, I’m considering going back to the Bay area in August to see them again…and pay the $250 (per head) tickets for the VIP area, just so I can sit closer to them.

I’m so gay for Wilco, I’d blow Jeff Tweedy — but only after he bought me at least 3 pints of Blue Moon Ale and signed my Wilco records, as well as my Uncle Tupelo records. And his poetry book. But even then, I wouldn’t swallow. Even though I read poetry.

I’m so gay for Wilco, I was up until 4.30am last night, Googling those motherfuckers, and in addition to a bootleg stream I found from a great ’95 show recorded in a tiny LA radio station, I found a chart outlining the Wilco crew and their involvement in the band…and posted it here.

But I’m not so gay for Wilco that I’d actually create a chart like the one I just posted.