Give every book 50 pages before you commit to it, or give it up. Time is too short to read something you don’t like.– Nancy Pearl
We walked out of the Walkmen show at the Beachland last night after three or four songs. The sound was atrocious. They were so loud that Meg and I walked out to the front hall to listen, and even after that, Leithauser was screaming so much into the microphone that it was pretty much unlistenable.
Since when did he decide shrieking was better than crooning? Whatever happened to their dynamics? Their textures? How could a great band do this to their sound?
I was really surprised, because I’ve seen them a few times. The first show I saw of theirs at the Southgate House in Kentucky was amazing. It was like a stereo swirl around your head: there was buildup, there was subtlety, and you could hear each instrument.
Part of me wants to say that the Beachland’s soundsystem is too damned loud for the place. Part of me wants to blame the soundman. But I know that the music just isn’t for me anymore. Watching them on stage, I saw no attempt to bring me into the music, to share something with me. That really turns me off.
I don’t want to be screamed at. I don’t want my ears to bleed for five days. I just want a good beat, a little wisdom, a little mystery. Cue the Van Morrison, please.
Regardless, it was my first time at the Beachland, and before the music started, I had a great time. They’ve got a good bar, and a great jukebox. Music Saves is right around the corner, and we bought some LPs we’d been meaning to get. (On a side note: I saw that Calexico is doing what I’ve always thought bands should do: if you purchase their new LP, they include a secret code you can redeem so you can download the MP3s for free.) And I love Jon Hicks’ screenprint posters that they have hanging on the wall.
The bottom line is this: don’t like what you’re hearing? Leave. Life is too short. Cut your losses. Take your woman home, make some gram crackers and milk, and watch a Sopranos.
It’s ninety degrees up here in Cleveland, so I spent the afternoon buying an air conditioner.
In celebration of the World Cup, I’m reading prose-poet Eduardo Galeano’s Soccer In Sun and Shadow.
Here’s an excerpt.
Barry Yourgrau highly recommended it. The writing is gorgeous.
I don’t know much of anything about soccer: I’ve lived in two countries where the game is a religion, but the only match I ever caught was in Columbus, Ohio. I went to a Crew game with the son of one the team’s doctors, and had my mind blown from the terrific seats.
There’s something about watching a game for the first time: everything looks foreign and magical. Galeano’s book has the same effect.
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Up on the lit balcony this morning, we got to talking about Amy Hempel.
She’s another one for my map: Ray Carver–>Gordon Lish–>Amy Hempel.
Check out her story, “The Harvest.”
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The Art Spiegelman piece in Harper’s on the Muhammad cartoons is really something. If you care anything about the serious study of cartoons, you should get ‘hold of a copy.
Here’s a big block quote from the beginning.
Here’s a big scan of Spiegelman’s cover.
Here’s the earlier dialogue between Joe Sacco and Spiegelman.
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Get a whole MP3 set of Destroyer, Live in Atlanta.
this started out as a Brian Kitely exercise (#109, “Nudes”), and then turned into something else.
We spent Memorial Day weekend in Oxford at my cousin’s house, visiting friends, celebrating Meg’s birthday (24!), and going to a beautiful wedding on a farm outside Cincinnati.
Steven told me that Art Spiegelman had an article in the June Harper’s about the Muhammad cartoons, with a level of analysis that would put any literary critic to shame. It’s a good thing he promised he’d send me a photocopy.
After talking to a few of my old professors this weekend, I’ve promised myself that I’m only going to an MFA program that will accept my visual/comics work with open arms. Otherwise, it’d be a waste of my time, and my work would suffer.
I have yet to listen to the new Futureheads album. I really like the way Paul Simon has laid out the lyrics for his new one, SURPRISE, “sonically engineered” by Brian Eno. And, it’s true: if you write, you should read.
We’re driving back to Cleveland this morning. I get so many good ideas for my work when I go on trips…it’s too bad you can’t draw while you’re driving.
Our man maintains that comics are a first-rate art form, Fantagraphics’ battle against lousy cartooning runs on 30 years, Michael Pollan and Meghan are in Texas at the same time, and the Walkmen rock out NPR.
Great article on LOST, and the inspiration for including OUR MUTUAL FRIEND in the plot. I studied O.M.F. in Cambridge and loved it. I drew these crazy maps of the “psychological geography” of the London in the book, which my tutor found far more interesting than any of the drivel I wrote up for him. Guess I should’ve known then that my pictures trump my words…
Anyways, my co-workers always ask me what’s my pet theory about LOST, and I always have to say, “I don’t have one, and really, I don’t care.” For me, it’s all about the ride of the episode, and the characters, and the great writing. And the pneumatic tubes! Sometimes I think I should get one of those: just roll up my latest sketchbook, stick it in a cartridge, and pop it in the pneumatic tube to nowhere…
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