Category: Blog

My Blakean Year

Apparently I went to a different Patti Smith show last night than every one else in this town.

Here’s Culturemap’s review, and 29-95′s recap.

I didn’t give her a negative review, per se. I just said that she seemed a little lost when it came time for her to speak off the cuff. However, she was like Jekell and Hyde (in the best possible way) when she’d switch from ad libbing on stage to performing her music or reading her written work. Her singing voice sounds as good, if not better, than it did 30 years ago.

I still think she’s amazing — but I found it tacky and awkward that she flubbed not once but twice the name of the organization who brought her to Houston, especially since she’s known the founding director since 2003. I was also unmoved by her “spontaneous” group-sing of “Because The Night” since six months ago I posted a video of her doing the exact same thing in London. On one hand, she has been traveling extensively in support of her book, but on the other hand, she’s also a 30-year music veteran who has gone on dozens of tours and played hundreds of concerts, so that excuse doesn’t entirely fly with me. BUT WHATEVER. Apparently it’s a sin to even remotely criticize her, since I’m the only blogger in Houston who did and I’ve gotten railed on my überfans for doing so.

So, in penance to all the fans who couldn’t be there last night, here is my paraphrased version of the heartbreaking story she told about Jeff Buckley:

Smith said Buckley was a die-hard perfectionist, never completely satisfied with his work, which he felt was never complete. Buckley sang on Smith’s album “Gone Again.” They recorded together at Electric Ladyland studios, and when it was Buckley’s time to sing his voice just lifted the entire room. Patti and the others in her band were so moved by his talent and Patti spoke about how she especially was inspired by his performance.

Later, Patti found him in the green room, laying on the couch weeping. She asked him what was wrong and he replied to her, “I just wish I could have done it better.”

Eight arms to hold you

Octopi are so clever. I love them.

She’s a hurricane in all kind of weather

I am sick of winter and sick of school, and although both are almost over all I can do is dream of our annual pilgrimage to Florida where I plan to do nothing more than lay under a beach umbrella every day with a book NOT required for my degree.

Going to iFest this weekend. I’ve actually never been (I know, shameful) so I’m going now and I’m gonna write about it for work. The theme this year is the Caribbean, so Chris Gray and I wrote our weekly HSSS on music inspired by the archipelago. Calypso, ska, exotica.

In the story I obsess about Tacita Dean, the very best Beach Boys song and how I only came to learn in my 20s that Buster Poindexter was David Johansen.

You already know how I feel about Julie Andrews, but Petula Clark is awesome. Read about her controversial duet with Belafonte here.

Patriots*

Teabaggers were protesting downtown yesterday because it was tax day. Wonder if they drove in their cars on roads (paid for by tax money) to get to Discovery Green (also paid for by tax money).

Last weekend at the BMW motorcycle rally in Llano a couple of guys showed up with the Gadsden flag and this one hanging from their tents. “Don’t Tread On Me. Unless you’re a maker of fine German motorworks.” I wanted to take a picture but there was no way to do it covertly, and besides, they were drunk and I didn’t want them to throw me in the river.

More on the moto trip later. We camped, and carried everything with us on the Beemer.

* Insert air quotes here

Waxen, flazen, down to there

How much do I love this: apparently, Mo’Nique is an infamous non-shaver. As Screeching Weasel would say, her legs are hairy logs! And I adore her.

I’ve been an adamant non-shaver for a while now. Granted, I’m blonde, and the hair on my legs is sparse so it’s barely noticeable. But I have dry skin, and because of my trail running I also usually have poison ivy or thorn scratches somewhere on my legs so shaving just isn’t worth it for me.

About once a month I get a full Brazilian wax. I don’t do this for any kind of porny beauty ecstatic — I get Brazilians because I live in Houston where it’s 90º and 90% humidity nine months a year and I’m just more comfortable without that extra layer.

And shaving under the arms is a pointless endeavor — most women have a perpetual 5 o’clock shadow there. So I get occasional underarm waxes too, and once a week I’ll use the Epilady under my arms. This is the best way to get long-lasting results. But for the most part I’m happy with the hair there, and while I’m not purposely trying to scandalize anyone I do kind of enjoy it when someone finds out I don’t shave, since I’m quite girly in other aspects.

Is it a contradiction to wax all my hair off of one body part and let it grow freely in another? No more a contradiction than any other Western beauty standards.

Big fkn deal

I’m so tired

I remember reading a few years ago on Metafilter that tons of people who had gone to SXSWi came home sick. They jokingly called it SxSARS. After going to SXSW for the first time I understand. Only this week have I felt back to my normal self and not so affected by my lack-of-sleep hangover.

You can read all of The Press’ coverage on the Village Voice’s collective SXSW blog. Here’s my Thursday recap, Friday recap, Saturday recap and my favorite showcase.

Favorite WTF moment: CLH and I went plebian-style. We had no badges and no wristbands* so we had to wait in line for 45 minutes at a one-in/one-out show where the headliners were Ray Davies and Roky Erickson with Okkervil River, all the while big shots with credentials got to walk right on in. A chatty Australian guy was in line in front of us and was being super entertaining and friendly so when I noticed he had a wristband I pointed out to him that he should just go on in. Half an hour later he was getting tossed out by security, along with another dude who was kicking the air like a girl, presumably for being a drunk doofus. CLH and I then tried sheepishly to disassociate ourselves from him, as if we’d be judged for having a 10-minute conversation with a stranger in line.

That wasn’t the WTF moment though. Finally we got in and the place was packed. Davies had just started playing so we tried to push our way through the crowd to the middle. Now, we aren’t assholes. We weren’t trying to rush the stage or anything, just get a decent viewing spot. We ended up settling in the middle, about halfway between the front and the back of the venue. When we stopped, this middle-aged guy next to us with a badge around his neck was using his hands to kind of shoo us away. I had Hearos in and couldn’t hear what the guy was saying so I asked “WHAT?” I still couldn’t hear him so I took the Hearos out. “What? What? WHAT?” He looked agitated, but I though he was just trying to yell over the music until I realized what he was saying:

“Who do you think you are?! You can’t just walk right in here and stand here. Go find your own place to stand. Fuck off!”

I see this is the first concert you’ve ever attended, sir. Umm… yes I can. That’s what people DO at shows. It’s general admission, dude. Just ‘cuz you dropped $700 on some laminated paper doesn’t mean you don’t have to commune with the oi polloi here in the pit.

Then he kind of like moved all around to give himself a 1-foot protective barrier of space, which was the funniest part of all. And then, about 30 minutes into the 2-hour show, he and his Affliction-clad female companion left, and I took his spot.

*But we did have kick-ass VIP access to the VVM party, and thus, free tacos and open bar.

You really got me now

Last week I saw Dick Dale in Houston. Last night I saw Ray Davies in Austin. At Dick Dale, I trudged to the House of Blues on a Sunday night in spite of a desperate need for sleep. I wasn’t the least bit disappointed I went.

Last night, I waited in line for over an hour and paid $15 to see two hours of Kinks and solo Davies music. I was more excited about that show than any I’ve seen at SXSW so far.

But for a moment, as we were being passed in line by badge-holding bigwigs, as some Yankee fucker demanded a 4-foot circle of personal space around him in the crowd, as my feet began to hurt after six straight hours of walking, I started to wonder if maybe I should just give up and go home.

When I get a chance to see someone like that, some member of the Rock and Roll canon whose wonder years are far behind them, I always think I’d never forgive myself if I passed this chance up and never had a chance to see them again. I mean, Ray Davies survived being shot a few years back, but what if he hadn’t.

CLH put it this way last night: just think of all the people at SXSW this weekend who were expecting, who were looking forward to seeing Alex Chilton this weekend.

So by So What

Hi. Remember me? I used to blog around here sometimes.

Here’s the deal. School is kicking my ass. I want to quit, but I’m not going to. I’m just telling you so I can air the frustration. I’m on Spring Break right now but I can’t even relax because I have two tests on my first day back, and two papers due in my first week. Plus I have to start (and finish) Moby Dick. You understand.

The most frustrating part of all this is that I’m leaving in, like, half an hour for Austin to cover SXSW for the Houston Press. So I’ll have no time to work on homework (except for in the car) because I’ll be too busy trying to see as many of the 1,700 bands who have infested the city in the next 96 hours. That’s almost 18 bands an hour!

Please stay tuned to the Press’ SXSW blog for my updates on my mental state of being, or, if you’re really brave, follow me on Twitter.

Public Speaking 101

I walked in to Pecha Kucha just as the first presentation was about to start (Andrea Grover) and realized that I was going to have to hold the microphone in one hand, which meant that I wouldn’t be able to flip through my meticulously-copied note cards in the other hand. I went fourth out of maybe a dozen people, and when I walked up to the front with the screen behind me, I had to just stoop down, throw my notes on the floor and wing it.

There were a lot of people there, in the University of Houston architecture hall’s atrium — enough the people were hanging over the balconies on the upper floors, and when I realized this my legs started quaking so hard that I pretty much forgot everything I wanted to say and had to concentrate mainly on not collapsing in front of 200 people. When I spoke, my voice wavered. And then I began to ramble about my life in Korea in a way that I’m not entirely sure was related to my pictures. Oh well.

I don’t really know Andrea, but I know *of* her. She was sitting in the front row, and at one point I said something and I looked down at her and she had the biggest grin on her face and that kind of made everything better. So thank you, Andrea.

After seeing the others’ presentations I think now I was a little too ambitious in my topic choice and because I wanted to talk about something so broad and dear to me I ended up with a lack of focus. I haven’t done much public speaking, and there’s a first time for everything. I’m glad I did it, though. In fact, I’d like to do it again, this time with a more specific topic, and better slides.

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