Read:My:Back

The 1k Project II by Blackshark

I came across this entrancing clip of video game art several years ago, but the 28 MB download was a major obstacle to sharing it, especially in the dark days before YouTube. The original description I read on Octopus Dropkick said: "The 1K Project II is created by an artist called Blackshark... using the physics based driving game Track Mania. 1000 replays were recorded, then played back merged together using the replay editor. The result is a polished video of flocking, swarming cars".

I've never actually played this game before, but always having been the kid who'd immediately gravitate to any game in the arcade that featured a steering wheel, (OutRun, Pole Position) it's no surprise that I've cultivated a weird fixation on it.

Repeated viewings have also made it evident that I kind of like a couple of Moby songs. Kind of.

Ladies and Gentlemen, the Bronx is Burning

This came out some time ago, and I completely missed the ESPN mini-series that was based on it, but I wanted to cast my own public praise on this fantastic Jonathan Mahler book. Set against the tumultuous backdrop of New York City 1977, the hammer-pulsed narrative charges back and forth between the Son of Sam serial killings, the wildly disfunctional relationship between Yankee slugger Reggie Jackson and his forever-embattled manager Billy Martin, the public suckerpunches hurled from the Ed Koch and Mario Cuomo camps throughout the city's mayoral race, and the infamous blackout and subsequent riots that besieged Bushwick. (Now comically known as "East Williamsburg", in Realtorspeak).

This is the story of a New York that I experienced through the lens of the WPIX Action News broadcasts which followed my family's weeknight suppers (and then later on, through lauded films like Dog Day Afternoon and the French Connection). Having the dispassionate mood of that era addressed historically, but at the breakneck velocity that's normally reserved for an action-thriller, creates the kind of narrative that you'll continue to re-consider well after setting the book down. (The chapter devoted to the city-wide blackout and near lynching of Con Ed chairman Charles Luce is one of the most palpably arresting passages you'll find anywhere.)

In short, The Bronx is Burning is as comprehensive as it is fantastic. It offers insight, action, outrage, and an electrifying summation of the city during its worst period of urban rot. Most importantly, it sets the stage for the economic and cultural changes ushered in during the 80s, which have made New York the decidedly more palatable environment that it's become. For any New Yorker, sports fan or otherwise, The Bronx is Burning offers a compelling re-thinking of the city at its most critical point of transition.

NYC-related Real Audio:
Lou Reed - Dirty Boulevard [Listen]
Interpol - NYC [Listen]
MC Shan - The Bridge [Listen]
Daddy Warbucks & Friends - NYC [Listen]
Harry Nilsson - I Guess the Lord must be in NYC [Listen]

All tracks from my September 11th, 2006 radio show

 

The Price of Nothing: Luxury After the Real Estate Show

A good friend of mine is curating a fantastic group exhibition at the Elizabeth Foundation Gallery, and you ought to make it a priority on your next whistlestop tour of Hell's Kitchen. If you don't make it over to that neighborhood so often, I suggest tacking on a visit to the nearby Leisure Time bowling alley, and a subsequent meal at Chef Yu for a social trifecta you'll not soon forget.

The Price of Nothing: Luxury After The Real Estate Show examines the meteoric ascent of the local luxury market as it pertains to property and art since the late 1970s. I attended the opening last week, but being distracted by the presence of friends and the customary prospect of free booze, I didn't get as close a look at things as I would've liked. My short visit definitely aroused my curiosity for this heady topic, and my interest was further stimulated when considered through the lens of my peripheral involvement with the ABC no RIO squat/gallery/venue back in the early 1990s (and the subsequent gentrification its then-dicey neighborhood has undergone). I'll definitely be back next week for a more thorough examination.

The Price of Nothing is curated by Jason Murison. Contributing artists include: Iris Bernblum, Crash, John Fekner, Adam Putnam, Michael Smith and Joshua White, Rory Posin, Jessica Rohrer, Christy Rupp, George Rush, Roger White, David Wojnarowicz, and Martin Wong. Films by: Charlie Ahearn, Anders Grafstrom, Eric Mitchell, James Nares, and Amos Poe

You can read the full press release here. The show runs through October 27th, and the Elizabeth Foundation Gallery is located on the second floor of 323 West 39th St.

Random Post-Apocalyptic Imagery

A Gross Metropolitan Product -- NYC Apartment Hunting Woes for the 21st Century

(This is a re-edit of an article that I originally wrote for the Blast of Hot Air newsletter).

I recently went through the particularly transformative horror of searching for an apartment in New York City. In lieu of the complaints that you might expect from someone with fresh recollections of such topical trauma, I will instead begin by hurling a few bombastic visuals at you that will hopefully illustrate this uniquely damnable place from which I speak. After all, evil of such measure demands an accordant seat at the table.

Imagine that you're standing alone on a vast beach. A grim expanse of dark clouds boils rhythmically on the horizon with decidedly awesome power. Thunder moans from somewhere within the blackness, and you notice that the tide is moving in quickly. You'd like to back up from where the waves are breaking to avoid getting your shoes wet, but now there's a big goon in a cheap suit standing behind you with a baseball bat, and he's digging the handle into the small of your back while glancing hurriedly at his watch. Suddenly, a huge wave breaks on top of you and the undertow drags you down and thrashes you about in the extremity-numbing void. After a torturous eternity, you are spat back onto the beach; humiliated and covered with the barf of the sea. Green kelp dangles unspectacularly from your hair. The pockets of your soaked trousers are filled with sand. From your belt loop dangles a shiny new key. Least surprising of all, your wallet is gone.

Electric Jellyfish

Dear Owen,

Get well soon.

Sincerely,

Your fans.

P.S. I blame the Hollywood star system. For everything. [MP3]

Great Moments in Swearing, Part One

Having been involved with radio for fifteen years now, I've been fighting a very long and public war with potty language. Which is to say: I've been pained a thousand times over by avoiding (great) songs that contain words which the FCC has deemed inappropriate for virgin ears. Sure, I've bleeped and edited my way through the odd Minor Threat track or Run DMC's "Live at Fun City", but in some cases, the dirty words are really what makes a song memorable, especially if they're delivered with style. Anybody can curse like a truck driver, but it takes an artist to make it sound like poetry.

I was reminded of this phenomenon while recording this week's edition of the podcast, which includes the song "Dragon Lady" by the Geraldine Fibbers. Perhaps the band's most well-known contributor was Nels Cline, but at center stage on this track are the heart-stopping vocals of Carla Bozulich, who recently recorded an amazing solo record called Evangelista. "Dragon Lady" builds to an almost unbearable and anthemic climax, and then right at the apex, Carla belts out a string of cuss-laden lyrics that edge the song into showpiece territory. Hearing is believing, so take a listen and let me know if you !@?#! agree. [Streaming MP3]

This is Only a Test

I'm trying out a little compatibility experiment with the new Del.icio.us Playtagger MP3 streamer. Try clicking on the blue play button below. Can you hear the fanfare?

Marching Band Fanfare

And how quickly will this little development drive my bandwidth fees up the wazoo, I wonder...

WPRB Staffers, circa 1994

The advent of the digital camera is the single greatest motivator for lazy and disorganized people like me to keep online records of people, places, and events. The immediacy is too enticing, and the potential for pissing off acquaintances too great. And let's face it, when you're firing your mouth off, there's no time to be jackin' around at the pharmacy waiting for your film to get developed.

I was the world's worst pre-digital photography enthusiast. I owned a reasonably nice 35mm camera from 1989-1995, but shot only a dozen or so rolls of film on it and then never bothered to get any of the pictures developed. The film cannisters spent years rolling around in my sock drawer and were shuffled in and out of about as many apartments before I was (recently) ordered down to the Duane Reade to have something done about it. This evening, a most pleasing result of this long-overdue endeavor is now presented via this pasty and washed-out scan. (Hey, 10+ years in a sock drawer can take its toll on you).

The shot in question features several members of the WPRB airstaff circa 1994. On the far right is DJ Marc Coleman, host of the Sounds of the Underground program, who is the first (and last) person I ever knew who could ably cue up records with his bare toes (while beat juggling, mind you). In front of him (seated, in baseball cap) is Josh, who at the time was a member of the swoony indie rock combo Totfinder, and who went on to be a member of the hugely popular French Kicks. The guy sitting on the arm of the chair is named Said [pronounced Sah-yeed], and although he didn't host a program, he definitely provided some kind of demented, spiritual guidance to our small group of radio junkies. He was one of the best and funniest storytellers I've ever met -- the kind of guy who didn't need a radio station to broadcast his opinions because he always managed to collect an audience just by walking into a room. Finally, we have the esteemed Hugh Hynes (seated, arms crossed), who was the final host of WPRB's Totally Wired program and whom foisted a truly dizzying mix of British imports on the station's Delaware Valley listenership. Were it not for this man, Catherine Wheel's amazing cover of Scott Walker's "30th Century Man" would've forever remained a mystery to me. This photo was taken in DJ Jen Moyse's (Hey You Kids Get Off My Lawn co-host) room at the Terrace Club, which was a frequent gathering place for late-night arguments about which new records sucked or ruled the most. (Naturally, most of them ruled). A year after this picture was taken, the room was painted metallic silver from ceiling to floor by the next resident -- perhaps one of the most ill-advised decorating decisions in Mercer county history.

Catherine Wheel - 30th Century Man [Real Audio]
Treepeople - Funnelhead [Real Audio]
(Note Treepeople poster in background, above LP shelves).

Read:My:Back Explained!

Since Read:My:Back went online earlier this week, several people have emailed me asking where the blog's name came from, and I now realize how silly it was to not step up with those details right away. "Read my Back" is the title of a song by the brilliant 1980s DC rock band Kingface, whom I wrote a lengthy bio of back in 2005. You can read the article and also download a full arsenal of the band's mind-blowing MP3s with this link. Alternately, you can skip the wordage and just rock out at your computer to a live version of "Read my Back". [Download MP3]