Constantine’s Sword, and Jesus Camp
These are two very different documentaries about Christianity’s darker side. Both are as educational and fascinating as they are heartbreaking and bleak. I recommend them as I recommend spinach or any other healthy green gooey mash to a child who would prefer candy. Both available on Netflix instant view.
The regime probably doesn’t recognize it, but I can tell you, the marriage of civil disobedience with the social networking savvy is the death of despotism in these places,” he said. “If you combine these two, you have a very potent force.
Dead Man’s Shoes - on Netflix instant view. Gr8 fun.
Creepy, strangely satisfying, yet deeply disturbing revenge flick with a rather unusual cinematic device that I wont spoil for you. Except to say that after watching this movie I had to see it again a week later, to revisit the characters and scenes, knowing what happens and what the aforementioned device is. Curious enough? Not for the little kids, no, not so much. Drugs and depravity and mayhem. Excellent acting all around, and the lead character, played by Paddy Considine, is unforgettable. Here’s a spoiler review if you want it, but I advise just viewing unprepared. Soundtrack is brilliant - excellent music direction completes the already original picture as a unique piece of work. This is a dark and affecting drama, with a heavy moral message that is delivered without any effort to make you feel comfortable. The thing that makes it scary is how commonplace the people are, how real, how not like actors, and how simple, normal, even intelligent people, can be so gravely insensitive and dull. Not a feel good movie. But a very good one.
In the oh-my-gawd-that-was-amazing department, I saw the California Honeydrops last night at the Starry Plough in Berkeley.
Goodness gracious but they are hot. Ran into Fat Dawg and he told me to check ‘em out, and I’m glad he did, so thank you, Houndus Rotundus. Short version: good as it gets. You can hear some their fine recordings on their myspace page. See ‘em live for the full effect. Outstanding, joyous, words fail. Who plays a washtub bass like that anymore? Guest singer Freddie Hughes was equally fantastic. I left sweaty with a smile that wouldn’t come off.
Brass Bows and Beats tonight! Good weekend for music so far =)
Heard a song that floored me today.
It’s called “A-Z” by Chris T-T.
Found it while tapping through the music player at SXSW.
Fascinated by this rather astonishing yet subtle broadside, I read the “influences” Mr. T-T lists on his myspace. All makes perfect sense. If Winnie The Pooh were in one of those extinct forest pods in space from “Silent Running,” in the age of “reality TV” and “enhanced interrogation,” he might write songs like that too.
After period of being unexpectedly glum about the very notion of mortality, have returned to usual fiendish glee about the glaring and absurd impermanence of every last bit of thing.
Had great fun recording a bunch of songs Sunday evening with the Uptones. We rocked it live in the studio, horns and all, with Matthew King Kaufman and Michael Rosen producing and engineering again, like we did for the “Skankin’ Foolz Unite!” album. It was a joy.
Meanwhile our friend and young genius cinematographer Jake Small posted a vid of our historic visit to the Ska Shrine. Click “HQ” for better sound and vidi and use quality shoes for best results.
Annoying cold bug persists. Even a slight illness reminds of the vulnerability of these fleshy vessels we carry our ideas around in. Approving more lately of sci-fi concept of uploading digital construct of self to cyberplasm.
Science fiction. What a thing. Dick Tracy babbling at his fascist overlords through two way television on his wrist. I just got off Skype - real time vidi conference with friend in New York. There is no sci-fi, only stuff that hasn’t been invented yet. And us, and the sun, and the need for clean air and water, and the encroaching inability of our lovely planet to sustain us if we don’t stop behaving so poorly toward her. Sweet improbable earth.
1. The middle finger. There is nothing in the least bit rebellious or edgey about flipping the bird at the camera, and there hasn’t been for decades. Johnny Cash owns it, it’s over. It’s more Rush Limbaugh now than Johnny Rotten. Stop it.
2. Shots in front of railroad tracks. Do I have to even explain? Cease and decist.
3. The “lounging next to or leaning intently over a massive mixing console” pose. Are we done with this one please? I mean, first of all nobody cares - you’re “in the studio” - wow! Can I have your Kleenex? 12 year olds make records on their laptops, and you use Pro-Tools when the photographer leaves anyway. That huge Trident or Neve board that Aerosmith sniffed lines off of does not have “the sound,” and taking shots in front of an endless sea of faders without handing out air sickness bags is rude.
4. The brick wall shot. How many of these are there, one wonders? Look, if you’re not going to immolate yourself in front of it while your bass player crashes through in a GTO like Wendy O’Williams through a wall of exploding televisions, no more bricks.
5. The “we’re not posing” pose. There are many variations on this and they’re all bad. You’re posing. So pose, make it look good. Only a complete poser would pretend to not be posing in a band shot.
I’m excited about our show tonight at the ever-rising-from-the-ashes
Phoenix Theater in Petaluma. Looking forward to seeing
The Pepper Pots live on stage. As yet I’ve only seen them on the googletubes. Possible puma sightings as well. One recently leaped over a passing car to pounce on a deer in the hills near Santa Rosa. Some people have all the fun.
The way to get a “swimsuit body?” Go swimming.
Early spring in the east bay is the stuff of dreams. Working outside at home today. Doing some webby things between sets of push-ups and dumbells and walking the dog. “What Is and What Should Never Be” Led Zeppelin is on. The breeze smells of happy trees. Buster watches the scene, eyes opening and closing lazily as cats do.
