2007 list, Joe Carducci

These aren’t all of the year exactly or by a long shot but I’ve spent good time with them in the past year and recommend them:

FILMS:
Ford at Fox, Silent Epics: Just Pals / Four Sons / The Iron Horse / Hangman’s House / Bad Men. This is a four-disc John Ford mini-box that is available separately from the massive complete collection. The films are from the 20s and are in excellent condition and Ford’s eye for setting up a shot is even better here when he was in his early thirties. And the title cards don’t allow for as much malarky.

Spirit of the Beehive, 1973 (Victor Erice)
Cria Cuervos, 1975 (Carlos Saura)
Two great Spanish films from the late Franco years reissued to dvd, both starring non-professional child actress Ana Torrent as the death-haunted little girl both filmmakers seemed to require to look at their own culture clearly. These and recent Iranian and Chinese films suggest there might be worse things for art than censorship.

TCM whenever they’re showing anything made between 1920 and 1935; just leave it on.

BOOKS:
It’s hard to keep my head above the newspapers and magazines to get to the books but these two are great:

–Monsters from the Id – The Rise of Horror in Fiction and Film, by E. Michael Jones. Pull quote: “To recapitulate the past forty years of film history, which was in its way a recapitulation of the past two hundred and fifty years of the Enlightenment: they wanted sex but got horror instead.”

–Wittgenstein’s Vienna, by Allan Janik & Stephen Toulmin.
Lightbourne forced this one on me; pull quote: “After studying nineteenth-century Habsburg history, one can hardly deny the charm of Hegelian dialectic, as a mode of historical explanation; for in it one continually sees situations begetting their own opposites. The effort to introduce German in place of Latin, so as to streamline Imperial administration, begat Hungarian and Czech cultural nationalism by reaction, and this in due course developed into a political nationalism. Slav nationalism in the politics and economics in turn begat German economic and political nationalism; and this in its turn begat anti-Semitism, with Zionism as a natural Jewish reaction. All in all, it is enough to cause one’s head to spin.”

NON-RADIO TUNES:
-Grandpa’s Ghost “Bardot I-IV”
Finally in release as part of the GG document dump of 2 double albums, a quadruple album and an ep last month. These four rock drones roar along and can make even Nebraska look like Wyoming going by; I just tried it.
-Michael Hurley “Knockando”
A perfect Hurley solo tune as its clockwork-like melody hinges on its pokey rhythm. Seems to be about some kind of Michael Finn.
-Darker My Love “Post Mortem Post Boredom”
Blurred fuzzed trudge; be nice if there were a twenty minute version.
-The Places “Program Ten”
From Amy Annelle’s earlier Places album this piece of folk strum is run against noise interference and a backing vocal chorus that seems to come in via bleedthrough from a shortwave band, yet perfect to kick it into another dimension.
-Souled American “Libertyville”
It’ll be on their next album they say. I heard it twice at the Upland Breakdowns last August. I’m guessing its about a stone casualty: “He, he must have seen it all” is the chorus punchline.

RADIO TUNES:
-Miranda Lambert “Famous in a Small Town”
This is about as much as Nashville will concede to Memphis and that’s pretty good.
-Tim McGraw “When the Stars Go Blue”
Ryan Adams delicate ballad on Nashville steroids; ham-handed, maybe even gruesome, but awesome as well.
-Good Charlotte “Don’t Wanna Be in Love”
Its keyboard-imbued guitar chords reprise hair metal pop strategies. There’s always a classic or two in any genre haystack but don’t tell them that.

RELAPSES:
Robin Trower in the 21st century. You can’t read about these or hear them on the radio but when I checked one out I bought all his recent stuff:
-“Go My Way”
This is his best album, even better than 1973’s “Twice Removed from Yesterday.” Very clean under-driven psychedelia that starts with a nine minute work out over great drumming.
-“Living Out of Time”
Almost as good; a ten minute song is at the end of this one.
-“Another Days Blues”
Without the wah wah pedal it’s Albert King trending Brit blues-rock although Trower was always pretty intimate for arena rock.

-Black Sabbath “The Dio Years”
I saw this at Wal-Mart in a nice package and since I don’t pull out the vinyl often I bought it. It’d be hard for this to have the same resonance that it does for we who lived within earshot of Black Flag, Global and SST. But “Heaven and Hell” and “Mob Rules” were their second wind and this comp has three new tunes to launch their third wind which puts them right up there with Anita O’Day or somebody, right? It was common knowledge around Global that Carmen Appice’s little brother Vinny was the better drummer and the title track from “Mob Rules” displays beautifully how he could trade a dropped beat for massive pick-up power. And Geezer’s little prelim bend is just unfair; it’s up there with “Supernaut” as musical thuggery (to use Jeff Beck’s term).

LAST TOWER RECORDS PURCHASES Dec. 2006 in Las Vegas, where they never quite got the café opened in the Wow Center, and in Torrance:
-“Legends of Country Blues” (5xCD, JSP, $22): Son House, Skip James, Bukka White, Tommy Johnson, Ishmon Bracey.
-Memphis Minnie “Queen of Country Blues, All the Published Sides 1929-1937 in Chronological Order” (5xCD, JSP, $22)
-Lonnie Johnson “The Original Guitar Wizard” (4xCD, Proper, $22)
-Secret Hate “Vegetables Dancing” (CD, .50). Lost gem from the Minutemen’s New Alliance label; nice to see it on CD. I could have bought 50 of them.

Joe Carducci, a former A & R force at SST, is an advisor and contributor to Arthur; he wrote an essay on contemporary culture in Arthur’s very first issue back in fall 2002, and “Charles Bronson, Dark Buddha” in Arthur No. 10. More importantly, he is the author of the justly celebrated “Rock and the Pop Narcotic,” recently reprinted on Carducci’s own Redoubt Press, and the new sorta-memoir of his SST Years, “Enter Naomi: SST, L.A. and All That.”

ELISA RANDAZZO’S TOP PICKAROOS FOR 2007

Best place I played for the first time:
Smiley’s in Bolinas, CA

Best Activities & Places:
The Integratron sound bath & weekend in a geodesic dome
Nevada City gigs and relaxing at the swimming hole
Ortman Vineyard’s wine tasting
Bolinas, every bit of it
Bike riding in the mist outside Santa Barbara

Most Exciting Personal Moment:
Co-writing with Bridget St. John

Sad Happenings:
Our President
The closing of Village Music, Mill Valley, CA
Our President
Deaths of: Lee Hazlewood, Oscar Peterson,Max Roach, Ingmar Bergman, Marcel Marceau
Our President

Visual:
The Valerie Project showing -Got to hand it to them Espers & AM for sharing this with us!
The Power of Nightmares -by Adam Curtis -hard to watch because it’s so true…

Best old records discovered on Vinyl:
Don Nix
The Hotdogs LP, say what you mean [see cover above]

Best Archives released/Re-issues:
Neil Young – Massey Hall 1971
Stephen Stills Demos
Mark Fry –Dreaming With Alice
Emmy Lou Rarities Box- Songbird
Grateful Dead – Three From the Vault

Best Live Gigs:
Neil Young live at The Nokia
Ramblin Jack playing after the showing of his documentary at
EmmyLou live at The Derby

Most Ridiculous Night Out
Motley Crue, London

Culture Vulture Activities…..
Richard Serra exhibit
Surrealistic Things Exhibit @ V&A Museum
Dali in Film

ELISA RANDAZZO is a lady of considerable taste and talent, and a source of constant wonderment. She is currently designing for her Dusty of California line of clothing, writing music with Bridget St. John (!) and finishing a new set of Randazzo & Robinson songs. Plus she’s probably cooking..

DAVID KATZNELSON’S BEST OF 2007…

1. Folk Yeah Festivals in BIG SUR at Ferndale: The best environment for Arthurtastic musical warmth and great bands to fill it (Howlin Rain, Vetiver, Whalebones, Tarnation…).

2. Bruce Springsteen’s Magic: Yeah, I didn’t believe it either…and when Ethan Miller threw the disc at me, I stared it in the eyes for days before slipping it in the car stereo. But to play it is to hear the vibrancy and almost garage feel of the Boss engaging with his classic fifties roots with all the pop melodies that made his pre-Born in the USA albums classics.

3. The Shooting Gallery/White Walls: This radical art gallery is a high point of San Francisco culture bringing new artists to the public in ways that attract both the young and the old, the hipsters and the people I relate to…throwing the best jam-packed art openings on the block to give witness to some of the forward thinkers of this generation of artists (like: Mike Davis, Travis Louie, Eric Joyner, Ausgang, Andrew Schoultz, Jeremy Fish).

4. Aquarius Records: Still THE BEST PLACE for old-fashioned Mom And Pop-type store advice about the most crazed-out music of life. And their Internet lists are bi-monthly highlights as well, offering music with each review and a host of Black Metal cassettes to choose from.

5. Archive.org: The greatest place for LEGAL AND FREE downloadable movies. Sure they are pre-iphone and often pre-b movie fodder, but where else can you see NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD, 39 STEPS, DOA, M, WHITE ZOMBIE, RASHOMAN alongside unknown gems like Maciste In Hell (1926), Heading For Heaven (with a pre Beverly Hillbillies Granny Irene Ryan), and Harold Diddleback (the final Preston Sturges picture)??

6. The Turner Family August BBQ (Senatobia, MS): Best one yet since patriarch Otha Turner’s passing. Featuring: R L Boyce, Lightnin’ Malcolm, R L Burnside Jr, Cedric Burnside, and the Rising Star Fife And Drum Band.

7. Os Mutantes at the Stern Grove Festival: thousands of people—ALL AGES–digging the craziest Brasília psych for the first time…for free…with guitars that blazed tones that Kicked Out The Jams in serious mid-’70s Detroit fashion.

8. “Life Is A Problem…BUT WHERE THERE IS LIFE THERE IS HOPE”…just ask this vinyl-only garage-gospel stunner on Mississippi Records.

9. La Tapatia: All other burritos are put to shame by this establishment in South San Francisco. I know those are fighting words for Mission-goers and Southern California Mexican Foodologists…but Tapatia puts EVERYONE to shame.

10. Jack Hirschman: A social justice oriented people’s poet who took the given title of SF Poet Laureate to new heights, throwing a true international poetry festival that brought the medium not only to life, but to fiery awareness in the Bay Area (imported poets included: Cletus Nelson-Nwadike, Agneta Falk, Alberto Masala, Maram Al-Masri and Aharon Shabtai).

11. Brute Force with Daughter Of Force at SXSW: Thanks to legendary record collector Geoffrey Weiss, I witnessed the craziest duo in pop history—the father being an ex-Token and big-time 60s songwriter– singing songs like TO SIT ON A SANDWICH and the John Lennon approved KING OF FUH with his daughter.

12. All the great meat consumed: Davis Grocery, House Of Prime Rib, Harris’, Jon Blaufarb’s Ribs, Dal Rae, Peter Luger’s, Acme Chophouse, Mom’s brisket, Meatshos, Como Steak House, Interstate BBQ, Sammy’s Romanian……..

13. Rock of the elder statesmen: Spiritualized at Bimbos, Flaming Lips in Tulsa, The Pogues at the Fillmore, Leon Russell in Tulsa (Tulsa rocks), John Fogerty at Glastonbury, Lester Chambers in Golden Gate park, Jimmy McCracklin in Golden Gate Park, Mavis Staples with the North Mississippi All-Stars in Santa Cruz, Crime at Lou Lou’s 16th birthday party. Blistering.

14. The Jim Ford lyric from his righteous 2007 reissue of Harlan County: “I’m Going To Make Her Love Me Til The Cows Come Home”…..

15. Last but most important: the continued resurgence of the ultimate medium of music recordings: VINYL!!!!!!

David Katznelson has a deserved reputation as one of the enduring Good Guys of the record industry, and always has his fingers in a lot of tasty pies. These days he’s running his label Birdman Records, working on the Reboot Stereophonic series, thinking hard for money, and officially appreciating San Francisco with the SFAS amongst other things. Good to know ya, Dave, and keep up the good, grand work!

Counterculture Decor: Abby Banks a photographer, documented 42 unconventional interiors for a new book, “Punk House: Interiors in Anarchy.”

January 3, 2008 New York Times

Anarchy Rules: The Dishes Stay Dirty
By PENELOPE GREEN

THERE are certain things you can count on in a punk house. A killer name: Anarchtica, Scribble Squat, Collective A Go-Go, Firebreathing Kangaroo. Lots of bikes and skateboards. Homemade tattoos. A tattered photocopy of “Soy, Not ‘Oi!’,” the vegan anarchist’s “Joy of Cooking.” Guests are always welcome in a punk house, if they follow the rules: “Don’t be a jerk!” reads a guest policy sign in one.

The punk house might be a trailer, a van, a warehouse or a bus. There are lots of treehouses, and more than a few squats. The old anarchist’s dictum — all property is theft — is part and parcel of the punk-house mindset, which is lovingly chronicled in a new book of photographs by Abby Banks, a 29-year-old artist. Ms. Banks found all 42 of the houses collected in “Punk House: Interiors in Anarchy,” out last month from Abrams Image, the art and pop culture imprint of Harry N. Abrams, in the same way: by phoning a few friends.

The punk house is a curious and sometimes beautiful habitat, the expression of a music scene and do-it-yourself culture that went underground decades ago, in an attempt to opt out of just about everything that smacked of the mainstream: cities, clubs, bars, alcohol, processed foods, agribusiness and the record companies, for example, not to mention all media larger than a photocopied zine. With its roots in old-fashioned counterculture communes (like Findhorn in Scotland, but really messy, and with a thrash-hardcore beat), the punk house is a multifunctional dwelling: typically a place for like-minded males in their 20’s to live and to make and hear music. This is not to say that there aren’t all-female punk houses (there are) or ones with girls living among the boys. As with punk itself, the punk house eludes a tidy definition. “Punk Is (Whatever We Made It To Be)” is the title of a song from the Minutemen, a punk band in the early ’80s.

As Thurston Moore, a member of the art-house alt-punk bank Sonic Youth, who helped Ms. Banks find a publisher for her work and contributed an essay to the book, said recently: “It’s just a completely liberated aesthetic.”

You won’t find many punk houses in major urban areas because, as Mr. Moore explained, “you don’t go to the media eye of New York or Los Angeles to achieve success.” Furthermore, it is nearly impossible to live a punk life in areas with costly real estate.

Bands on tour don’t play gigs at the Meadowlands or even the Knitting Factory; they’re more likely to appear in basements and living rooms. There’s a preponderance of acoustic guitars: big amps might spook the neighbors.

Mr. Moore’s own successes are more commercial. In his essay for Ms. Banks’s book, he writes of his experience walking into a legendary punk house in Minneapolis wearing a nice winter parka and sneakers, whereupon he was promptly sneered at. “I didn’t know they let subversives in here,” sniped one resident wearing a leather jacket stamped with the Dead Kennedys logo.

Though she was once in a thrash-punk band called Vomit Dichotomy Ms. Banks has never lived in a punk house, but she has an enormous appetite for the aesthetic. “It’s self-expression in the living space, not just on their bodies,” she said, noting that punk-house interiors are logo-centric. As with T-shirts or tattoos, they contain lots of writing — hortatory, descriptive, diaristic — on walls, door jambs, stoves and toilets.

“I’m so goth I’m dead,” is inscribed on a wall of a punk house in Minneapolis. “Dead witnesses tell no tales,” is on the back of a toilet in another.

Ms. Banks grew up in a tidy 1920s bungalow in Claremont, Calif. Her mother is a city planner; her father a psychology professor and an aerobics instructor who was seriously into all kinds of music, including punk. “It was more than acceptable in our house to blast the Ramones,” she said. Ms. Banks’s own room was embellished with layers of stickers, fliers for shows, and blue paint. When she sent her mother a copy of the book, Ms. Banks reported, “she said, ‘Every room looks like your room!’”

She’d always made art but never a photograph, until one day after art school, when she had an epiphany. She’d been drifting, she said, working as a maid and dog walker for David Foster Wallace, who lived two blocks away from her mother’s house in California. She had friends at The Fourth Street House, a punk house in San Pedro. There was a show there one day; dueling bands were playing the kitchen and the living room and passing the mike back and forth.

The house was about to be sold, and its distinctive flourishes — the casket outside, the skate ramp out back — dismantled.

“I wanted to document it before it went away,” said Ms. Banks, explaining that despite their hoary history, many punk houses are ephemeral. “I just think they’re really important and beautiful. For some people it will be their lifestyle forever, but for others it’s just a phase.”

She called upon an old band mate, Timothy Findlen, and they embarked in Ms. Banks’s maroon Ford Ranger on a three-and-a-half month road trip.

The Ranger is an art project in itself, layered with stenciled images of figures impish, historical and arcane, like Herman Munster, Anne Frank, and one Mr. Findlen made of Harry Smith, the music ethnographer, mystic and Bohemian who died of natural causes at the Chelsea Hotel. As they toured cross-country, Mr. Findlen would play shows, and Ms. Banks would take pictures. They brought house presents — a case of wine, Two-Buck Chuck, from Trader Joe’s, and a box of silk-screen T-shirts with the slogan “I’d Rather Be Dumpster-Diving,” made by a friend of Ms. Banks.

When those offerings ran out, Ms. Banks said, “all we had was to be nice” — and the offer of Mr. Findlen’s dish-washing services.

The ephemeral quality of punk houses became clear a year after the photographs were taken, when Ms. Banks returned to her subjects with photographic release permission forms from her publisher. Many of the houses were gone, she said, resulting in a scramble to find the former residents.

Last week, Andee Grrr, a 28-year-old zine writer now living in Brattleboro, Vt., described her three years at one of the oldest punk houses in Ms. Banks’s book, the 309 House in Pensacola, Fla. (It was so old, Ms. Banks said, “there were fliers on the wall for shows the year I was born,” 1978.) The house was a clapboard five-bedroom bungalow with a fluctuating number of residents and one “filthy, filthy bathroom.” The rent for each member was $25.

Ms. Grrr, like most of 309ers, volunteered at the End of the Line vegan-punk cafe across the street, living on her tips. Food was mostly free: bread from a bakery Dumpster and vegetables from the supermarket’s Dumpster. “The good part was there was always someone to talk to if you were feeling bad,” she said. “I developed some really strong friendships. And the rent was so low we didn’t have to work much. I could write a lot. The bad part was no clear boundaries.” And the aged scurf of the house, which she said was dirty to the core. “It was kind of a hopeless situation.” Generations of punks, she said, had lived in that house.

“I thought of calling the book, ‘No Lease,’” said Ms. Banks, who herself lives without a lease in Brattleboro, part of an art collective called the Tinderbox that’s nestled into a cavernous old dance studio. The difference between an art collective and a punk house, she explained, is that in the former you’re pretending you don’t live there, and in the latter you’re pretending you don’t make music there. The rent is $1,000, which Ms. Banks collects from her studio mates (there are about 20, living and working in rooms called Shantytown and Vegetable Street). When the rent collection comes up short, they have a show, Ms. Banks said, or sell T-shirts.

“When rent is cheap or free,” she said, “it leaves time to make art or travel.” Ms. Banks, who has a wide-open face and a keen eye for the life-force inherent in the making of art, takes inspiration from the photographs of a train-hopping friend, Mike Brodie, who goes by the name the Polaroid Kidd and is a kind of Nan Goldin to his train-hopping, punk house set. Ms. Banks’s eye is intimate, to be sure, but her pictures are sly and funny. And despite the profound grunge of the punk-house milieu, her photos are never tragic: they reveal a focused, almost manic energy, like a straight-edge song.

That the idea of the punk house endured for so many years is heart-warming to one 40-year-old former punk house resident. Joel Olson is now an assistant professor of political science at Arizona State University. Back in the day, as he put it recently — which is to say from the late 1980s to the mid-90s — he was a zine editor and the author, with Jack Kahn, of the “Soy, Not ‘Oi!’” cookbook, copies of which Ms. Banks spotted in every house she visited. His Hippycore Krew House in Tempe, Ariz., had Green Day perform in its living room, as well as a “lot of malnourished vegan punks,” he said.

Being a vegan, as he pointed out, was nearly a punk given, a political act against industrialized agriculture and pro-animal rights, “but it was hard work.” In those pre-Internet days, he collected recipes from punk pen pals. They printed 2,000 copies, and sold them all. (A few years ago, AK Press, a radical publishing house, approached Mr. Olson for the rights to reprint his book, and it is now available at Amazon.) “I’m glad the punk house is still thriving,” he said. “It makes perfect sense for young people who don’t have much money and want to make music. The downside is that it seems to me punk culture hasn’t really evolved or developed.”

Certain icons, however, have endured, like the punk bathroom. Perhaps the greatest, said Mr. Moore, was the be-stickered, be-fliered and graffiti-emblazoned black hole in the basement of CBGB, the legendary (and now defunct) punk rock club in the Bowery.

“That’s the one thing that sears itself into your memory,” said Mr. Moore, breaking his reverie. “It’s that toilet.”

NOTE: An extended excerpt from PUNK HOUSE, with new, exclusive commentary by author/photographer Abby Banks, appeared in Arthur No. 27 (Dec 2007).

OS BRASILEIROS: Part I

Brazilian Art and Music

Jan. 5 – Jan. 17, 2008

Opening reception with a live musical performance by Katia Moraes

Saturday, January 5, 2008 8 pm – 12 am

“Featuring some of the best street and outsider artists from all over Brazil including Akeni, Alexandre Anjo, Alexandre Yassu, Andre Firmiano, Binho Barreto, Binho Ribeiro, Bruno Kurru, Cena7, Ciro Schu, Dalata, Daniel Bileu, Dask Two, DOC, Does, Flavio Morais, Flavio Samelo, FLIP, Graphis, Hyper, Jana Joana, Jey, Kaleb, Marcella França, Mateus Bailon, Milo, Pankill, Pato, Paulo Ito, Petite Poupee7, Prila Paiva, Raquel Schembri, Rodrigo Villas, Sesper, Suzue, Tatiana Guid, Thais Beltrame, Thiago Syen, Tiago Fazito, Tikka, Vitché, Yá!, Zeila Trevisan and more!”

Carmichael Gallery of Contemporary Art
1257 N. La Brea Avenue
West Hollywood, CA 90038
(SW corner of La Brea and Fountain)

The gallery is open Wednesday through Friday 3pm to 8pm, Saturday and Sunday 2pm to 7pm. Call 323.969.0600 for more information.
www.carmichaelgallery.com

“Headquarters Galerie & Boutique is proud to present a new solo exhibit by Montreal favorite Christopher Ross. Quietly mesmerizing, this collection of all new works features newly developed techniques showcasing a light, ethereal feeling that is rarely seen in acrylic paintings. Ross has created a dreamscape in which animals, humans and “in-betweens” seem to melt out of strange moon-like landscapes of lush smoky colour. Part ghostly, part dreamy, the perfect show to stumble into on a wintry January evening. You may even find yourself wanting to take a piece of this calm world home with you.

“All are welcome to join us for a fun night of drinks, amazing art and music by DJ Garry Vickers.”

Opening Party/Vernissage
Saturday, January 5th , 2008, 6-11pm
Headquarters Galerie & Boutique
1649 rue Amherst Montreal
514.678.2923
www.HQgalerieboutique.com

ZACH COWIE’S BEST OF 2007

2007 was rough and weird, but these things ruled. (Apologies in advance to any person, place, experience, record, movie, tv show, or puppet-fueled entertainment I’m forgetting…)

* Finally being 100% California. After spending the last half of 2006 in California, but either on tour or living on an air mattress in the loft of Noah’s room (and turning completely Grey Gardens with him) – settling into a room with a door I could close and a normalish life was a welcomed situation. I’m in love with California. I don’t think anything pumped me up as hard in 2007 as passing my CA driving test (after failing it twice- apparently there’s a book you’re supposed to read) and having the license in hand.

* Robert Wyatt “Just As You Are”. I haven’t listened to a single song on repeat for days at a time since my 5th grade obsession with Zep’s “Goin’ To California” (see above).

* Robert Plant & Alison Kraus “Killing The Blues”. Agreeing with your parents on jams = 2008.

* Panda Bear and Animal Collective. Blah, blah, blah Person Pitch…what hasn’t been said at this point? This album is so far above and beyond ANYTHING that happened this year it’s not even funny. IT JUST FEELS SO GOOD!

Hearing it for the first time with Farmer Dave SUPER loud in his car after a serious meeting with the Vapor Bros is officially a feeling I’ll never forget. My face hurt from smiling.

The A/C bros are still up to some serious radness too. Much like the G/ D, my attention has turned more towards the live experience than the studio albums (even though Strawberry Jam is pretty sweet), and their show at the Henry Fonda was hands down my show of the year. Homeboys are about five seconds away from having a tapers section.

All musical contributions, vibes and attitudes coming from this group of dudes (tour manager and merch dude included!) have always been and continue to be one of my favorite sources of hope and inspiration in this increasingly painful business of music. Nice one dudes.

* Wooden Shjips. These dudes = up to something.
* Old Records. I played these things A LOT this year:
* Ronnie Lane & Slim Chance ‘Anymore For Anymore’, Jim Ford ‘Harlan County’, Ernie Graham ‘s/t’ (Thanks Cabes)
* Fraction ‘Moonblood’, Wildfire ‘Smokin’ (Thanks Bob @ Freakbeat)
* David Wiffen ‘s/t’ (Thanks Thomas)
* Anonymous ‘s/t’ (Thanks Jess)
* Lambert & Nuttycombe ‘At Home’ (Thanks Coots)
* Jeremy Storch ‘From A Naked Window’ (Thanks Andy)
* Valerie And Her Week Of Wonders soundtrack (Thanks Mahssa)
* Birds Of A Feather ‘Blacksmith Blues’ 45 (Thanks Ian)
* Tommy Flanders ‘Moonstone’ (Thanks expensive wall at Amoeba)
* Phil Lesh ‘Searching For The Sound- My Life With The Grateful Dead’ book on tape (Thanks Barker)
* Ramases ‘Space Hymns’, Catherine Ribeiro ‘Ame Debout’, Earth and Fire ‘Invitation’ 45, Vangelis ‘Earth’ (Thanks eBay)

* Beowulf 3D. Everyone thinks I’m bullshitting when I talk about how much I fuckin’ LOVED seeing this movie. I stood up and cheered at the end of the sea monster part, sat back down to crack a snuck Tecate as a victory celebration, then laughed super hard at Erin in 3D glasses. 100% satisfaction.

* Old Movies. These all worked for me: 3 Women, Blume In Love, Pacific Vibrations, If…, The Jodorowsky box, Dirty Mary Crazy Larry, The Landlord, Herzog’s Nosferatu, Meatballs 1, Dillinger, Idaho Transfer, The final cut of Blade Runner, Once Upon A Time In America, Christian Liquorice Store, The Great Ecstasy Of The Sculptor Steiner, Night Moves, Harry And Tonto…etc

* The Collected Works Of Billy The Kid by Michael Ondaatje. Jessie gave me this book and I read it twice in a week. The ‘sane assassin’ passage about Pat Garrett still blows my mind so hard….”frightened of flowers because they grew so slowly that he couldn’t tell what they planned to do”. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

* Guitar Hero. I thought everyone was so lame for playing this game but I always secretly wanted to jam out. Rob brought it into work a few weeks ago and I had a crack at it behind closed doors and now I’m totally hooked. A similar thing happened a few years ago with Sex And The City. Ask Noel…

* Desert Movie. Jed, Miguel, Chad, Jessica, Lee, Lindsay and Zach go to the desert for two days, get crazy smashed and make a slasher movie that’s probably only funny to us.

* Brooke & Fran (the huge white dog). Best roommates a dude could ever wish for.

* Mighty Boosh. The levels of jealousy I hold for anyone involved with this show is intense.

* Turbo New York Karaoke Sesh. The only thing that could have made a perfect night (free Terry Allen show at a little gallery, HUGE dinner with a gigantor table full of old and new bros) better was a karaoke room. “If You Could Read My Mind” from Gordo as a duet with Coots filled the room with levels of bromotion so thick that it took a group sing along to “Drinkin’ Bone” TWICE in a row to bring the good times vibe back!

Kevin doing air pan flute to “Father Figure” was easily the closest I came to peeing in my pants- 2007.

* http://www.theonion.com/content/opinion/bro_youre_a_god_among_bros

* Puppet Up. http://www.puppetup.com/

* New Years Eve in the redwoods as I type this is pretty awesome…

Zach Cowie works in the A&R department at Rhino. He’s also 1/3 of the Small Town Talk Los Angeles based DJ ensemble- dublab.com/smalltowntalk. We love him to pieces.

Sun Ra: Space in the Place
8pm

Based on Sun Ra’s free jazz masterpiece of the same name, Space is the Place is an appropriately chaotic brew of elements: social commentary, exploitation, science fiction, concert film, and, best of all, a journey to “true perception.” Playing himself, Ra intergalactically travels back in time to the 1940s to compete in a card game with the pimpadelic Overseer to determine the fate of the Black race. From then on, Ra is dodging everyone from The Overseer to white secret service agents who have it out for him, all the while maintaining his signature calm. Luckily, Ra’s band, The Arkestra, is in tow to back him up, and provide musical vibes all along the way. Truly bizarre and captivating at the same time, with colors that rival a Powell & Pressburger film, Space is the Place takes you on a cosmic journey into not only Sun Ra’s mind, but maybe your own.

Presented by Arthur Magazine

Dir: John Coney, 1974, 35mm, 85 min.

Tickets – $10
http://www.cinefamily.org/calendar/thursday.html