I recently met up with Conor and Tim from the Agent in the big city to talk about some things. The interview follows transcribed from memory as best as I can recall.
Me: Fuck you!
Conor: Ha! What's up Matt!
Me: Nothing, sick show, huh?
Conor: Yeah man. I can't believe they played What I Would Say To You Now!
Me: Yeah, I know. Psyched they did No Sensitivity too.
Conor: Totally, they fucking rule.
Me: Totally.
Conor: So I heard you fucked up singing Hyper Enough with Nick's band?
Me: Yeah it was atrocious, but they sounded awesome. I think I redeemed myself when Everything Sucks covered Archers though.
Conor: Yeah, I'm bummed I couldn't make it.
Me: Ha, what happened man?
Conor: It was Poppa Freeman's birthday...sorry.
Me: Oh sick! It's no problem man...there will be more soon. Did your dad tell any more high school football stories?
Conor: Nah
(I notice Tim walking towards us)
Me(to Tim): Hey! It's You!
Tim: So just decent records, man? I bought great records.
Me: I don't recall exactly what records you used to buy. I just remember you wearing an Inside Out shirt a lot.
Tim: Yeah I just remember walking down the aisles and hearing like Heads Vs. Breakers and being like "what the fuck?"
Me: Yeah, I tried to have fun there.
Conor: I think we're heading out, how did you guys get in? The subway from Penn?
Me: Yeah man.
Conor: Is anything going on?
Me: Not sure...we might meet some folks way downtown. It depends.
Conor: Word, Have a good night.
Me: You too, thanks for sitting down to do this interview.
Conor and Tim in unision: No problem!
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Writing In Books
Found on the last page of a used copy of Paul Auster's New York Trilogy purchased on a street before seeing Jarvis Cocker at a place that used to be North Six, but isn't exactly North Six anymore in what I believe was July of 2008:
5/12/94
Midnight
Now it's about 10 to 1, and I'm sitting here pulling threads from the old family room valances- taking them apart to make napkins-wondering why I would spend so much time on something that I could easily buy, and that I may never get around to actually making anyway. This is the 3rd one. I pulled the other two apart during the day when I really should have been doing something else. Now it's really just a distraction-I've spent most of the time since I finished this book worrying. I left the back door open today when we ran errands before dinner and I've been possessed with the thought of how easy it would be for someone to walk in and find a place to hide in this house. Sometimes I'm convinced that I should have lived my life single in a studio apt. with a cat. So paranoid, imagining endless possibilities for catastrophe. Awhile ago I was wishing I was wishing I knew someone on the west coast I could call and talk to. Art's out of town, of course, but in NY-he's snoring away, and I should be taking advantage of the silence. Instead, I'm listening to the radio. They play the Talking Heads song 'Life During Wartime' a lot on this station-maybe because it mentions Detroit. I'm going to finish my thread pulling and hope to sleep. I read about Graham Greene writing in his books in an article in the New Yorker-sounds like a good idea to me, since I'd never keep a real journal. Of course, I'll have to be careful now about which books to get rid of. This one is a keeper-sufficiently interesting and baffling.
5/12/94
Midnight
Now it's about 10 to 1, and I'm sitting here pulling threads from the old family room valances- taking them apart to make napkins-wondering why I would spend so much time on something that I could easily buy, and that I may never get around to actually making anyway. This is the 3rd one. I pulled the other two apart during the day when I really should have been doing something else. Now it's really just a distraction-I've spent most of the time since I finished this book worrying. I left the back door open today when we ran errands before dinner and I've been possessed with the thought of how easy it would be for someone to walk in and find a place to hide in this house. Sometimes I'm convinced that I should have lived my life single in a studio apt. with a cat. So paranoid, imagining endless possibilities for catastrophe. Awhile ago I was wishing I was wishing I knew someone on the west coast I could call and talk to. Art's out of town, of course, but in NY-he's snoring away, and I should be taking advantage of the silence. Instead, I'm listening to the radio. They play the Talking Heads song 'Life During Wartime' a lot on this station-maybe because it mentions Detroit. I'm going to finish my thread pulling and hope to sleep. I read about Graham Greene writing in his books in an article in the New Yorker-sounds like a good idea to me, since I'd never keep a real journal. Of course, I'll have to be careful now about which books to get rid of. This one is a keeper-sufficiently interesting and baffling.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Songs My Mother Knows Every Word To
Mack the Knife
by
Bobby Darin
This song is about a fella named Macheath. He stabs the shit out of people. The lyrics compare his knife to a shark's pearly white teeth. It was originally in some German opera about a dude stabbing the shit out of people. Louis Armstrong sung it. Then Bobby Darin sung it. Every family party involving alcohol, a microphone, and my mother I've ever attended has featured my mother singing Bobby Darin's version of this song. "Hey Diana! Sing Mack the Knife!" her parents would shout at her. She would always oblige. She may have even sung it at her wedding to my father. I wouldn't know. I was not there. At one point in the song, various victims of Macheath are named. One of them is Lucy Brown. I don't know exactly why, but growing up I always thought Lucy Brown was Lucy from Charles Schultz' Peanuts. Lucy from Peanuts' name is Lucy van Pelt and did not exist in the same world as Macheath to be stabbed by him, but as an impressionable youth I thought this song had something to do with the demise of Lucy for taking away Charlie Brown's football. I don't think I've ever told anyone this. Maybe an ex-girlfriend at like four in the morning though, I'm not sure. Either way, that's what I thought of the song growing up. Now it's odd to think that a song about stabbing the shit out of people for their money was able to become a big enough hit for my mother to learn the words and for her family to encourage her singing it at their parties. I guess it was all in Bobby Darin's execution. The fella sure could work the mic.
exhibit a
by
Bobby Darin
This song is about a fella named Macheath. He stabs the shit out of people. The lyrics compare his knife to a shark's pearly white teeth. It was originally in some German opera about a dude stabbing the shit out of people. Louis Armstrong sung it. Then Bobby Darin sung it. Every family party involving alcohol, a microphone, and my mother I've ever attended has featured my mother singing Bobby Darin's version of this song. "Hey Diana! Sing Mack the Knife!" her parents would shout at her. She would always oblige. She may have even sung it at her wedding to my father. I wouldn't know. I was not there. At one point in the song, various victims of Macheath are named. One of them is Lucy Brown. I don't know exactly why, but growing up I always thought Lucy Brown was Lucy from Charles Schultz' Peanuts. Lucy from Peanuts' name is Lucy van Pelt and did not exist in the same world as Macheath to be stabbed by him, but as an impressionable youth I thought this song had something to do with the demise of Lucy for taking away Charlie Brown's football. I don't think I've ever told anyone this. Maybe an ex-girlfriend at like four in the morning though, I'm not sure. Either way, that's what I thought of the song growing up. Now it's odd to think that a song about stabbing the shit out of people for their money was able to become a big enough hit for my mother to learn the words and for her family to encourage her singing it at their parties. I guess it was all in Bobby Darin's execution. The fella sure could work the mic.
exhibit a
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
reviews of things
Agent
Awake In Their World
Agent put a seven inch record out. It took a little bit to hit the streets, but the streets were glad they got hit with it. The kids love it. The older folks love it. Small animals love it as much as small animals can love a seven inch record by an independent rock outfit from Long Island. The lyrics are an intelligent take on what it's like to be a certain age, trying to live and behave a certain way amidst a suburban scene that does not necessarily support, or even understand that certain age and behavior. That being said, I'm pretty sure Keith is a liar because it's almost impossible for him to be saying everything that is printed as lyrics on the record. He might be singing about unicorns or some shit, but writing about the aforementioned suburban scenes. He speaks rather quickly. The layout for the record was done by a fella who wears sweaters sometimes. John Mee played bass for the recording. A kid who used to buy decent albums from me at Tower Records plays bass with them now. His name is Tim. In almost every picture of this band my brother can be seen singing along with a finger pointed and all. We like them.
www.myspace.com/agentli
Awake In Their World
Agent put a seven inch record out. It took a little bit to hit the streets, but the streets were glad they got hit with it. The kids love it. The older folks love it. Small animals love it as much as small animals can love a seven inch record by an independent rock outfit from Long Island. The lyrics are an intelligent take on what it's like to be a certain age, trying to live and behave a certain way amidst a suburban scene that does not necessarily support, or even understand that certain age and behavior. That being said, I'm pretty sure Keith is a liar because it's almost impossible for him to be saying everything that is printed as lyrics on the record. He might be singing about unicorns or some shit, but writing about the aforementioned suburban scenes. He speaks rather quickly. The layout for the record was done by a fella who wears sweaters sometimes. John Mee played bass for the recording. A kid who used to buy decent albums from me at Tower Records plays bass with them now. His name is Tim. In almost every picture of this band my brother can be seen singing along with a finger pointed and all. We like them.
www.myspace.com/agentli
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Letters that are fun to think of existing
Dear Q,
I was wondering if I can get just one of those crazy prophylactics you claimed to have all those years ago. I've been feeling pretty "vivrant" and in this day and age, it's best to be on the safe side...the apparently crazy safe side.
Friends Forever,
Attractive Girl With A Fruit Shaped Posterior
I was wondering if I can get just one of those crazy prophylactics you claimed to have all those years ago. I've been feeling pretty "vivrant" and in this day and age, it's best to be on the safe side...the apparently crazy safe side.
Friends Forever,
Attractive Girl With A Fruit Shaped Posterior
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Legendary Legends of Rock and Roll Legend Profiles
Bob Dylan
His clothes were pretty wrinkled when he first started out. He began wearing a bolo tie around the same time he began ironing his clothes. People ask him a lot of questions. Every two years someone calls someone else a younger version of him.
His clothes were pretty wrinkled when he first started out. He began wearing a bolo tie around the same time he began ironing his clothes. People ask him a lot of questions. Every two years someone calls someone else a younger version of him.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Songs My Mother Knows Every Word To
The Load Out/Stay by Jackson Browne
This is a song/songs about being "on the road, maaaaaan." The narrator describes his stage being broken down by roadies every night only to be rebuilt again the next night at another show taking place "a thousand miles away from here." The solo vocal with piano lends the song a bit of sadness portraying the idea that playing to different people who don't really know you every night can take it's toll on one's soul and view of the world. Although it is sweet when the people get up on their feet and make the show, the people will never know the empty sound of an empty auditorium. The band is on the bus and they're waiting to go. As sweet as the people are, they are fleeting to the narrator. The towns all look the same to him. This is sad. This sadness is replaced by the uplifting idea of "hey, we came here to play for the people...so let's play for them." And play they do. The people are informed that they have the power. The longer the people stay in the auditorium, the longer the narrator and his band will play. The full band builds up into a chorus of "stay...just a little bit longer." The promoter doesn't mind. Neither do the roadies. The narrator and his band will play one more song, forever. This "one more song" is "stay" and it lasts exactly three minutes and twenty one seconds. This song/songs appears on the live record "Running On Empty." My mother fucking loves this song. Even her mother used to know the words to it.
www.jacksonbrowne.com
Jackson and Bruce and E Street telling people to stay.
This is a song/songs about being "on the road, maaaaaan." The narrator describes his stage being broken down by roadies every night only to be rebuilt again the next night at another show taking place "a thousand miles away from here." The solo vocal with piano lends the song a bit of sadness portraying the idea that playing to different people who don't really know you every night can take it's toll on one's soul and view of the world. Although it is sweet when the people get up on their feet and make the show, the people will never know the empty sound of an empty auditorium. The band is on the bus and they're waiting to go. As sweet as the people are, they are fleeting to the narrator. The towns all look the same to him. This is sad. This sadness is replaced by the uplifting idea of "hey, we came here to play for the people...so let's play for them." And play they do. The people are informed that they have the power. The longer the people stay in the auditorium, the longer the narrator and his band will play. The full band builds up into a chorus of "stay...just a little bit longer." The promoter doesn't mind. Neither do the roadies. The narrator and his band will play one more song, forever. This "one more song" is "stay" and it lasts exactly three minutes and twenty one seconds. This song/songs appears on the live record "Running On Empty." My mother fucking loves this song. Even her mother used to know the words to it.
www.jacksonbrowne.com
Jackson and Bruce and E Street telling people to stay.
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