Author: Mike Katzif

Last night I had what some might call an opportunity of a lifetime. I hope that is not the case because it might all be down hill from here. I found out at work around noon yesterday that Beck would be playing a stealth unannounced show at Washington D.C.’s Black Cat. Later on word started spreading to more mainstream sources here in DC. Not sure if it was going to work out, I headed down to the venue at 745pm to go take on the line snaking down 14th street.

Since I was on the guestlist for the night’s actual show of Apples in Stereo and DC’s Benjy Ferree, I easily got in and had first dibs at buying a ticket to Beck’s midnight set for a mere twelve dollars American! Now the waiting game. The Mainstage room was nearly empty for Apples in Stereo, but they proved to be quite fun to watch as well.

Finally around midnight, they started bottlenecking us into the tiny room downstairs as we fought the pushers from behind to get a good view. There was very little breathing room, but as soon as Beck and crew took the stage, a few decked out in long foppish wigs, it mattered very little.

So, my reaction? I should say that I guess I figured that it would be the introspective acousticy intimate Beck (ala Mutations\Sea Change) considering the he was playing Black Cat’s Backstage, a tiny small stage and room that only held 150 people tops. I was wrong. So so wrong.

Instead it was Beck and his band in total throwdown slamfest mode, attacking us with an all out stream of consciousness set of funky disco punk, whitenoise guitar riffs, thuderously grooving basslines and California hiphop distortions. Obviously without a setlist, and often calling out to the audience for requests, Beck bombarded the small but jampacked crowd with sloppy and sweaty renditions of all his uptempo grooves from Odelay, Midnight Vultures, Guero and the recently released The Information. The energy never let up once in the whole set. With each song, the band danced and pounded boozy rhythms; it was like nothing I have ever seen in a long time, if ever.

The whole time I felt like this is what those famed underground hip hop or hardcore punk shows might have been like back in the early days. It’s so refreshing to see someone of Beck’s stature playing just for the sake of playing without the pretense of theatrics. You could tell they were having just as much fun as the audience especially when he stated “The club owner said if we do good at this show, we can play the upstairs next time.” In all quite a long but memorable night.

I have always been attracted to the simple clean pop art asthetic in graphic design. As a kid, I grew up reading many a Spiderman comics and grew to love the stylings of those types of artists like Jack Kirby and Steve Ditko. There was something about the design of 1940s through the 1960s in graphic art that still appeals to me; something which I have tried to emulate in my own work from time to time.

These days it has become that much easier to emulate that style with Photoshop and other helpful software tools. I came across this cool (and super simple) tutorial that shows how to make a simple photograph into a pop art format ala Roy Lichtenstein or Andy Warhol. I gave it a try and charted my results. Check it out.

Eventually I want to try out the line drawing layers and Warhol-esque colourations hinted later in the tutorial. But for now I’m pretty happy with how this turned out. I wonder what kinds of things Warhol would be making now, if he had access to something like Photoshop.

A few years ago the fine makers of those delcious energy drinks came out with a product cleverly titled Rockstar. We used to joke in my old band The Missing Trio that if we consumed such a beverage, we would surely become, you know, famous, rich and good looking. Not to mention great musicians like Rod Stewart and James Hetfield who both shill this amazing refreshment.

After awhile though, as with any music career, simply being a rockstar might not be enough anymore. First its so great with the endless late nights, the countless ladies, and hard living. But soon you begin to notice your star just doesn’t burn so bright anymore. People get used to your same old tricks and begin to expect something new and shiney.

So like any rockstar who could use a pick-me-up to get through the days, there luckily is a new tasty drink to help with that comeback: it’s called Cocaine. Yes, an energy drink called cocaine. Mothers, get your protest placard magic markers handy. I mean it makes sense, first you are a rockstar, then you are just some coked out shell of your former self holding lead singer auditions on a third rate reality show.

But wait a minute, you might ask. Didn’t Coca-Cola already tread these carbonated waters before? Well, yes. At one point back in the olden days (1885) when people’s concept of medicine was cutting off a leg to cure dysentary (not true), cocaine was used to help fight headaches (true). It was druggist John Stith Pemberton of Columbus, Georgia who invented a ‘cocawine,’ also creatively named ‘Pemberton’s French Wine Coca’ for such purposes.

As Coke grew in popularity over the years, as did the urban myths that embellished Coca-Cola’s famed formula secrecy. People claimed that it still contained cocaine, which would explain the widespread appeal (well that or the large amounts of caffiene). However, despite originally containing uncertain amounts of cocaine, it was in fact reduced over time falling to 1\400th of a grain or 0.16 milligrams per ounce of syrup by 1902 (according to Snopes & Wikipedia) and completely eliminated around 1906 by heightened health regulations.

So while the new Cocaine energy drink is really nothing new but a controversial name and contains no cocaine like in the olden days, it no doubt packs the exorbitant brute strength of way too much caffiene, which last I checked was also addicting. So rockstar, if you are looking for a quick fix to really take you to that next level, you really should try this and BE someone! Nosebleeds reportedly sold separately.

I might be a bit behind the curve on this one (in fact I know I am)… Somehow admist the static fallout of political talking heads following President Clinton’s appearance on Fox News a few weekends ago, I missed this long commentary of MSNBC’s Keith Olbermann. While everyone else (ahem..Fox News…) was spewing rhetoric and attacking Clinton for his apparant freakout meltdown during the interview, some people were actually providing some intersting context.

And though even Olbermann goes the theatrical route (one less traveled, however) of leftist attacking of Fox News and more importantly the Bush Administration, he brings up some interesting points. Its nice to see someone keeping a proper box score.

I am mostly suprised that a) he was allowed to have such a commentary and b) that MSNBC allowed him 10 freaking minutes. When did Olbermann go from former Sports Center reject to heroic soapboxer against the rightwing agenda and historical footnoter of Clinton truths and Bush untruthiness?

To see the Daily Show’s reaction to the interview, ch check it

And to see a decent little interview with Clinton on the Daily Show check this.

Tonight, while playing guitar I turned on Sunday night’s episode of the Simpsons. I don’t usually tune in much anymore to the once-great show. In some ways its a shadow of its former glory, but still funnier than most other dreck on TV (see: Family Guy, American Dad et al).

But then something stood out. In the opening scene, Marge, Homer and Bart are shopping at a really crappy used bookstore at a rundown shopping mall. As Homer picks up an unwanted DIY carpentry book, I noticed another book behind them on a shelf; a book that very distinctly was titled Kansas City Royals: Forever Champions.

Someone on the Simpsons must be either a) a Royals fan or b) an embarrassed, self-depricating Royals fan. Only someone familiar with the perpetual woes of the Royals would be able to perfectly mock Kansas City’s often pathetic grasp of 1985 nostalgia…and only fitting for that book to show up in a rundown discount mall bookstore. The Simpsons might not be what it once was at its peak, but I have to say that even in it’s 18th (!!!) season, it still manages to bring great moments of pop culture satire.

To see the clip in context go here.

Tonight I am off to see Yo La Tengo at Washington D.C.’s 9:30 Club. Even though I have only known and listened to them for about four (or five?) years, they have been a staple of the indie rock community for nearly twenty years. AND(!!?!) they’re one of the top bands on my list I have never seen, so I am looking forward to their eclectic mixture of noise rock and sweet sonophorus melodies.

… and if you cannot go, try to dig up a copy of their 2000 album And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside Out or their new (like 2 week old) album I Am Not Afraid of You and I Will Beat Your Ass.

This made me think two things: 1) What are other people’s lists of bands they are dying to see live, but never have? 2) What are other really long album titles out there? Send your comments to us at [email protected]

UPDATE: Two nights ago, Yo La Tengo proved why they have been one of the most respected band in indie rock for so long. Pulling heavily from their new album, the band had a diverse set of short sweet pop tunes and long fuzzed out noise rock. Right off the bat, they opened ‘The Weakest Part,’ then segued into the epic ‘Story of Yo La Tango’ (misspelling intentional), which stretched out into a slow-building improv section well over 15 minutes long. It normally would have been a set closer of a song, yet the band pulled it out before anyone had even opened their beers.

It’s nice to see a band willing to improvise and stretch their songs and make each show special. When so many bands play their well rehearsed 45 minute sets verbatim, it can get stale and doesn’t really encourage much repeat attendance. Yet Yo La Tengo was obviously comfortable in their own skin, changing up a fan-favourite arrangement and pulling out a nice cover songs, such as the Arthur Lee tune, ‘Luci Baines’ or Velvet Underground’s ‘She’s My Best Friend.’ My only complaint was a short stretch where about four songs in a row were uptempo hard rockers and I was dying for a breather with a more mellow song, but based on the rest of the crowd energy I might have been in the minority on that one. But all in all a great show.

Sometimes we really have to look deep inside ourselves and admit we have problem. We all have vices or an obsessive love for things. But as Cookie Monster ponders, does that really make you a monster? Take a look at this confessional commentary from the Muppet himself, as found on the brilliant literary site McSweeney’s. My favourite portion?

How can they be so callous? Me know there something wrong with me, but who in Sesame Street doesn’t suffer from mental disease or psychological disorder? They don’t call the vampire with math fetish monster, and me pretty sure he undead and drinks blood. No one calls Grover monster, despite frequent delusional episodes and obsessive-compulsive tendencies. And the obnoxious red Grover—oh, what his name?—Elmo! Yes, Elmo live all day in imaginary world and no one call him monster. No, they think he cute. And Big Bird! Don’t get me started on Big Bird! He unnaturally gigantic talking canary! How is that not monster? Snuffleupagus not supposed to exist—woolly mammoths extinct. His very existence monstrous. Me least like monster. Me maybe have unhealthy obsession, but me no monster.

Read more here.