gecs!

Last night, my wife and I, my son Alex, and his girlfriend Eva made a foray into the heart of Brooklyn-- to the Avant Gardner concert/warehouse/event space in Bushwick-- to see 100 gecs . . . because of the awful weather, we drove in and we hit some traffic on the way there (and we took a route through Staten Island I've never driven-- kind of nuts in the rain, especially because there were these DOT trucks with crazy flashing lights, sirens, and hypnotic symbols that were weirder and more stimulating than the light show at the concert . . . I need to contact someone about these fucking things) but we made it, parked in a strange little lot with an entertaining old and slow-moving attendant-- Mr. Green-- who my wife had a long conversation with in his little attendant shack while the rest of us stood in the rain-- apparently Mr. Green has nine kids and usually one of them runs the lot at night but she was sick so he was doing it-- and then we walked through some sort of warehouse district to the venue and there was a fair bit of line waiting and pat-downs and a futuristic bracelet that you linked to your credit card so you could get beers and such without using cash; the interior of the warehouse was expansive and gritty-- exposed beams and boards and brick-- and the crowd was a wide-ranging, gender-fluid whimsically dressed and pierced group-- very fun to people watch-- but the opening band: Machine Girl . . . two dudes who play insanely loud industrial punk rock (it doesn't sound like that on Spotify!) was a bit beyond my noise tolerance (luckily we brought some earplugs) and then the gecs came on and pretty much played every good song from their first two albums, plus a few others-- their songs are short so they crammed them all in, at an even faster pace than the recorded versions-- I was a bit disappointed in the fact that they rarely played guitars (a couple times) and used a lot of loops and computer recordings but my son pointed out that their sounds are so weird that if they tried to reproduce them live it would get muddy and sound awful-- and they did sound crisp and clear and really fun and fantastic and Laura Les put on quite a show, between her insanely autotuned singing and her silly banter, while Dylan Brady wore his giant wizard hat and played keyboards and weird synth drums and synched computer parts and occasionally sang-- we didn't get out of there until midnight, but the ride home was much faster than the ride there . . . a good night and probably something that won't happen very often: we went to see a band in a really hip space that both my son, my wife, me, and my son's girlfriend all enjoyed-- quite the miracle.

The Mysteries of Your Musical Taste . . . Part Two!

 

It's finally up . . . Part Two of my epic investigation of musical taste-- my thoughts are (loosely) based on This is What It Sounds Like: What the Music You Love Says About You by Susan Rogers and Ogi Ogas and Hit Makers: The Science of Popularity in an Age of Distraction by Derek Thompson-- and I weave in loads of musical (and comedy sketch) clips and try to examine how our aesthetics tastes are formed (and possibly the futility of thinking they mean anything all that special).

Put Your Money Where Your Feet Is

Yesterday, my son Ian's feet were all messed up from the previous day's tennis match-- blisters and couple of toenails that looked like they were ready to rip off, so I told him he needed to cut his toenails or they were going to get worse but he said he was too tired and that he would do it in the morning and I said, "No way you're doing that before school . . . I'll bet you ten dollars you don't cut them" and he accepted the bet and-- surprisingly, he cut them-- so I paid out the bet but I told him this was the last time I was paying him to cut his toenails . . . I really hope that's true.

Tomorrow Morning is Double Convergence Friday!

While I'm not happy about the impending rainstorm (and accompanying blustery winds) that's going to make this weekend a washout (and make it difficult to get to the 100 gecs concert in Brooklyn) I am happy that I finally finished part II of my musical taste podcast-- if my podcast site goes back up any time soon, I'll put it online-- and I'm also happy that we've reached Friday in my Year-as-a-Week metaphor . . . tomorrow morning will be the convergence.

Tennis Etc.

So much tennis . . . and some Hamlet and some persuasive speeches in Public Speaking-- and a trip to the vet for Lola's exotic UTI-- hopefully the special urinalysis culture will give us the specific bacteria in her bladder that is causing the infection . . . but summer is coming.

Too Much to Bear

Because of some sort of copyright infringement, my high school had to remove the bear logo from their stadium turf field-- they hadn't paid to use it, so they had the field redone with a new original bear logo but now the bear is gigantic, off center, and far too realistic for a field logo . . . Coach Mckibbin says the bear looks great . . . if you're in a plane flying over the stadium . . . but even from a plane, it still wouldn't look like a logo, it has too many details, several shades of brown, a wide open red gullet-- while I'm not a graphic designer, in my humble opinion, this is a shit show (and who am I kidding . . . I'm not humble and this is not an opinion, it's fact).

From . . . Where Do They Come From?

A long day-- got up early to chip away at the new podcast episode, away tennis match in Metuchen, Catherine took the dog to the vet because she's got yet another UTI-- but we still had time to whip up a Hello Fresh meal and watch the season one finale of From . . . and it's scary and awesome-- we can't wait to check out season two.

Tracy Morgan . . . Back from the Dead

Over a decade ago, my wife and I saw Tracy Morgan perform his very profane, very insane brand of comedy at the State Theater-- the performance was underwhelming and downright weird at times; two years later, Morgan was in a limo that was struck by a Walmart truck and Morgan nearly died (another passenger, a fellow comedian, did die) but he survived, collected 90 million in damages, and returned to stand-up with a decent and celebratory Netflix special . . . Saturday night, my wife and I went to see him in a much smaller venue-- The Stress Factory in New Brunswick and he was much more entertaining-- his joes were too raunchy to transcribe here (but he did do 15 minutes on having sexual intercourse with very old women) and the crowd was either laughing hysterically, looking at each other as if to say "can we laugh at this" or doing both things simultaneously-- anyway, the house was packed, beyond sold out-- they crammed seats in every nook and cranny-- and obvioulsy Morgan is doing this because he loves doing stand-up (or sit-down . . . as he had to take frequent breaks-- he needed help to get on stage . . . unless that was a James Brown act) because he's got enough Walmart settlement money to retire . . . I don't think I'd see him again, but I'm glad he's back on his feet, making sexist, racist, politically incorrect non-sequiturs again-- actually living the life of 30 Rock's Tracy Jordan in reality.

Friday!

I went to school for five days in a row this week, but-- oddly-- I did not reach total enlightenment (nor were any prizes awarded).

My Turn!

 My kids like to take turns . . . getting in trouble (euphemistically known as experiential learning).

English Department Defeats Google . . . In Bed?

The other day I was racking my brain because I knew there was some situation where you insert the phrase "in bed" at the end of a sentence, for humorous effect, but I couldn't remember when you did this (and I was kind of mixing it up with Michael Scott's catch phrase "that's what she said") and I Googled it and it didn't come up so I thought I was losing my mind and that maybe I fabricated this idea and it was not a thing in the reality of our known universe but during lunch I asked my fellow English teachers and they said this was what you did with the little nugget of wisdom inside a fortune cookie and I was like "yes!" and I have no idea where this tradition originates but that's what I was thinking about-- "you will never hesitate to tackle the most difficult problems . . . in bed."

TV . . . It's What's On TV

Catherine and Ian were resistant to watching a new show-- they wanted to forge ahead with Money Heist (which is good, bit it's five million episodes so I wanted some variety) but I reminded them that in the old days you might watch a different show every day of the week and my wife conceded that point (although Ian didn't know what we were talking about) and so we started TWO shows-- both seems similar:  The Society and From . . . both shows are about being trapped in a town, both shows are creepy, and both shows are compelling-- I like From  a little better-- we ended up watching two episodes-- the pilot is pretty amazing-- and I think they will both provide a nice diversion from the infinite money heist.

The Raider Bird

A few hiccups today-- no Ian at first singles (got in some trouble at school) and Jakob was very late (Patrick retrieved him) but we still managed a 5-0 win over my alma mater, North Brunswick.

Your Musical Taste . . . Part One!

New episode of We Defy Augury up and streaming . . . "The Mysteries of Your Musical Taste: Part 1" . . .  the premise of this one is thoughts (loosely) based on This is What It Sounds Like: What the Music You Love Says About You by Susan Rogers and Ogi Ogas and Hit Makers: The Science of Popularity in an Age of Distraction by Derek Thompson, but I included so many examples and clips-- Glenn Gould, Little Richard, The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, Billy Joel, Vulfpeck, Rage Against the Machine, The Shaggs, Steely Dan, Lightnin' Hopkins, Ornette Coleman, Herbie Hancock, The Crystal Method, The Flaming Lips, Pavement, Johnny Cash, Sonic Youth, Adele, Tom Petty, Jason Aldean, Bob Dylan, The Chemical Brothers, The Wu Tang Clan, Hamilton, and N.W.A.-- that I had to stretch it into two episodes.

Talk to the Bus Driver: He Might Be Famous

On the way to tennis matches, I always make a point to chat with the van driver-- because I'm sitting shotgun and it would be rude just to stare at my phone-- and the conversation is usually the standard drivel-- which is annoying but tolerable-- but today was different: our driver was a large fairly corpulent black dude who looked to be my age, and on the way to the match we got to chatting about punk rock venues in the New Brunswick, indie bands from back in the day, the industrial band Ministry, and other related nostalgia-- then our team played the hottest tennis match ever (in April-- record-setting heat) and we beat Sayreville 4-1 . . . Ian lost to another dinker but the rest of the team came through-- and then on the way home the bus driver and I chatted about the ruins of Amboy Cinema and the great movies of 1999 and we got on the topic of superhero movies and comic books and he mentioned Luke Cage and then he mentioned that the guy who played Luke Cage-- Mike Colter-- actually played him in a movie and I was like "what?" and he said, "I'm famous" and it turns out that he was not fucking with me, our van driver was indeed famous; his name is Daryle Lamont Jenkins and he's a political activist who is credited with pioneering the technique of "doxing" bad actors-- he goes after neo-Nazis and he is a proud leader of the Antifa and Mike Colter (Luke Cage) played him in a film called Skin . . . so the moral here is: normally when you talk to the bus driver, it's going to be about traffic and property taxes and car maintenance, but once in a while, you'll run into something completely different . . . so go ahead and roll the dice (the other thing I learned on this ride is that one of our tennis players is on the Highland Park Board of Health . . . he informed us that a particular restaurant did not have permits).

So Much For Spring

Hottest April tennis practice in history . . . but we played a fun game to make the points go quickly: tiebreaker to 7, you get one serve-- so you are hitting a second serve-- but returner has three shots to win the point-- if the server can get it back in play three times, the server wins the point-- very fun and taught kids to engineer and win points quickly, with a hard deep return or a drop shot, or get to the net and finish . . . hopefully this will pay off tomorrow when we play in the 90 degree heat.

Free to Die Whenever We Damned Please

The new Plain English podcast dives into a depressing question: "Why do Americans die so much younger than people in any other rich country?" and the answer is multi-faceted, but it can be boiled down to:

1) a proliferation of guns;

2) a proliferation of dangerous drugs- mainly opioids and fentanyl-- that lead to an incredible number of overdoses;

3) a proliferation of big cars, which we drive faster and more than people in other rich nations;

4) a proliferation of health and medical issues: our diet, unequal distribution of healthcare,  the fact that we drive more and walk less, which leads to poor health outcomes (aside from things we focus on, like prostate cancer)

5) the American attitude and character-- which can make us more creative and interesting and rich, but can also make us defend the proliferation of assault rifles, the right to drink giant Big Gulps, the right to not get vaccinated, the right to drive giant heavy deadly gas-guzzling cars, the right to live wherever we want and commute as long and far as we want, the right to do drugs, the right to NOT be filmed by traffic safety cameras, and the right to not provide a safety net for many of the workers in our nation . . . which provides cheap labor which is great for capitalism and may help us be the leading innovators in the world but may also help us be the best at dying as well.

Ugly First Match

Today we drove to Old Bridge- a giant group 4 school-- with a limited line-up . . . Michael was away for Passover and Akhul was sick-- and we definitely had some first match jitters; Ian played awful-- just couldn't loosen up and hit the ball-- and Ethan lost the first set 7-6 in a 21-19 tiebreaker-- some sort of record?-- they were dinking it back and forth forever-- but then he started hitting the ball and won the second set and a third set tiebreaker-- ultimately we lost 3-2 in a very very long match but if we played loosely and strategically we would have won . . . instead we played like high school boys in their first match of the season and lost.

Whatever You Believe, Please Try To Climb the Political Ladder

Blogger, author and illustrator Tim Urban doesn't think right/left expresses the politics and polarization in our great nation-- first of all, he doesn't think that most people are actually into POLITICS . . . he thinks they are into reality TV based on politics-- narrative with main characters and epic conflicts and no room for boring, rational people who go to work, pass bills, make progress, impede stupidity, and think like a scientist-- but his "ladder" of thinking puts things on a much clearer spectrum; you can have some deep convictions but as long as you're willing to think like a scientist and weigh evidence, good things can happen-- and even if you think like a sports fan-- even if you are rooting for your team but still want to maintain the integrity of the game and respect a good play or a smart --game plan even if it's not your home team-- then that's not so bad . . . but once you go below that it doesn't matter what you believe, it's how you are believing it-- and down there, it's a mess (I still haven't read Urban's new book but Sam Harris has a great conversation with him).

 

Easter Sunday Tennis Resurrection

This afternoon, my brother, Alex, Ian and I played some doubles at Mercer County Park before Easter dinner-- Alex hadn't played since the summer (when he played once or twice) and my brother has been playing primarily pickleball so that evened up the teams-- it was my brother and I versus the children the old men won the bulk of the games-- the only times the children won was when Ian was serving-- he's got a big first serve now-- but most importantly, much fun was had by all, especially Alex because I kept forgetting he was left-handed and hit him some very poachable balls at the net, which he slammed with glee at my brother-- my brother is not used to the size my children have grown to . . . they are both much taller than the two of us and when Alex hits an overhead off of one of my lame cross-court shots, it's coming down at a crazy angle.

Wind . . . What is it Good For?

The wind is the most annoying element in sports (except when it becomes a tornado-- then it's one of the most deadly elements) and while I love pickleball, the ball is highly susceptible to the wind-- and yesterday was the first time I ever played pickleball in a low wind speed situation and it was awesome . . . you can lob and you can really hit the ball hard (I haven't played indoors yet . . . or not since 1988 in gym class at NBTHS).

History . . . What is It Good For?

New episode of We Defy Augury up . . .  I read a couple of history books and learned a few things-- but probably not as much as I should have learned: "Revolutions, Reconstructions, and a Mountain Lion."

John Mulaney Stole My Bit!

I was texting with my friend Whitney today and I recommended he listen to the album "10000 gecs"-- but I also recommended the context in which he should listen to the album . . . this is an album to enjoy with a beverage or a substance or perhaps driving alone in the car, blasting it with the windows open (but do not combine all three) and I told him when he played Track 2 (757) he should recall this moment from 2004:

it's the Outer Banks Fishing Trip and there are twenty dudes crammed into the Martha Wood cottage-- a beach shack at Milepost 12-- and it's dark and we're drunk and playing some poker and also playing some tunes-- on a CD player-- and I've got Ween's new album Quebec and I'm playing "The Fucked Jam" over and over and over, for two reasons-- 

number one, I love "The Fucked Jam". . . the incomprehensible high-pitched lyrics, the weird synths, the random dips and pauses that make you think this groovy abomination is over . . . 

but the second reason I'm playing this track over and over is that it's driving this huge guy Tinsley, once a linemen for the W&M football team, absolutely crazy-- and he's new to our fishing trip-- he wasn't in our fraternity-- and so perhaps he's not used to my brand of humor-- but the song is really driving him nuts and I keep promising him that it's over, but then it starts again-- check out 23 seconds in, it does that dip quite often-- and then I sincerely promise him I'm going to play another track from the album-- and then I don't and I feign surprise and tell him I thought it was over . . . and this goes on and on until he finally runs around the table, pops the CD player open, grabs the disk, sprints out to the porch, shaking the house with his massive footsteps, and throws the disc into the dunes-- which was completely deserved and we laughed and laughed-- and then a few years later-- and I'm just putting this together now-- John Mulaney does his "Salt and Pepper Diner" bit, about playing the Tom Jones song "What's New Pussycat" over and over at a diner, until the people in the diner lose their mind-- and he talks about how the song has a "dip in it," just like "The Fucked Jam" and I'm just realizing that Mulaney stole my bit (although my punchline was much better-- a giant football player barreling across the porch and chucking a little discus into the darkness) and I will simply await a simple thank you for the idea that propelled him to great fame and fortune.

Tennis Canceled (Self Reflective Stretch Day)

No tennis match today-- the weather is truly ugly-- and we could probably use a bit more practice so this might be a good thing, so this afternoon (after listing to this podcast) I have been trying to some flexibility exercises and it turns out that I should stop bench pressing and start sitting on the floor, getting up off the floor, doing Asian deep squats, and hanging from bars (not hanging in bars) or I'm going to be a burden to my flexible and fit wife (who can pop up from criss-cross applesauce without using her hands) when I get older . . . although I can get up off the ground without using my hands-- but I have to twist to my knees, so I've got that going for me . . . or I could keep bench-pressing and if I need any assistance when I get old, i could just punch a young person and then tell them they need to help me or I'll punch them again (but I'll have to coax them into getting down to ground level, since I won't be able to lift myself up).

This Doesn't Bode Well . . .

Today at tennis practice, our third singles player and I beat Ian and Ethan -- first and second singles-- in a set . . . Ian has the yips with his backhand and Ethan must have been up playing video games all night . . . first match is tomorrow-- I hope they get it together.

Horror with Panache (or Should I Say Flair?)

Last Night in Soho, which on first glance might seem like some other kind of film-- perhaps a feminine/Anglophile version of Woody Allen's Midnight in Paris-- but the film is NOT directed by Woody Allen, it's directed by Edgar Wright (Shaun of the Dead, Hot Fuzz, Baby Driver, etc) and this is most definitely stylish and dream horror movie-- and it's a horror movie that makes decent sense (unlike Barbarian) but it mainly becomes a ghoulish contest of which blonde has more style, glamour and verve: Sandie (Anya Taylor-Joy) or Eloise (Thomasin McKenzie) and the film is a reminder not to romanticize the past because it might not live up to your expectation (or die up to your expectations).

Remember When Harry Potter Fought Jesus?

I've just started listening to The Witch Trials of J.K. Rowling and it seems Rowling is a useful and fascinating lens with which to observe the polarization of our culture-- I also forgot (until I listened to episode 2) how crazed the conservative Christians were about banning the Harry Potter books in the late 90s because they seduced children away from the magic of Jesus and towards the magic and necromancy and divination and sorcery and spells and fantasy of Hogwarts and the Potter pantheon-- and the books were just a victim of scale, of course, because there were plenty of fantasy books with far darker magic (I vaguely remember reading The Elfstones of Shannara in middle school . . . I think there's a nuclear war metaphor in that one) but the Harry Potter books were singular in their mass market domination-- anyway, it's an interesting podcast that's got a far broader scope than just talking about some J.K. Rowling tweets.

Horror and Lunch Buffet

Last night, Catherine and I watched the horror movie Barbarian and while I will admit that every decision every single regular person made in the movie was stupid and irrational and utterly insane, I was still gripping my wife's leg in terror throughout the film-- I don't really understand the title (although the film did take place on Barbary Street . . . a rundown abandoned Detroit suburb inhabited by squatters and derelicts-- aside form one cute AirBnB?) but there were so many bad choices . . . but that's how horror movies happen I suppose-- and maybe in this film most of the bad choices were made by men, but Tess-- the leading lady-- doesn't fare much better-- nor does the female arch-villain-- but it's still a fun and crazy journey; almost as scary was our ride to Muhlenberg University this morning-- torrential rain-- but the campus was lovely, the weather cleared up, and the free lunch at the dining hall was phenomenal-- since when does college have good food?