Category: music

on the verge of existential crisis

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It’s bizarre to me how when I throw on the headphones at work and put on an album, that it doesn’t matter what it is, it hits me somewhere directly in the raw nerve feelings, and every workday in the office begins to feel like an existential crisis.

Today, for example, I swerved from Transplants to Jimmy Buffett to Cameron Halcombe and Billie Eilish, and it felt like absolute hell, in the most incredible way. Nirvana didn’t help.

Why are all my nerves raw?

Why am I experiencing such psychotically exquisite depth of feeling?

Why so barenerved?

Like my chest, ripped to pieces.

Why?

And why don’t I hate it?

Target: 1600 words
Written: 960 words, novel: Father Lightning

Read: The Stand, Stephen King
Comics: Invincible 79-81, Guarding The Globe 5
Music: From The Muddy Banks Of The Wishkah, Nirvana

the way

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I’m fine with covers if someone does a good job of it, like Melanie’s Ruby Tuesday, or putting their own stamp on it, like Jimi doing All Along The Watchtower, or even weirdo fucked up, but still somehow good like the Flying Lizards’ version of Money.

But like, do it well.

This version of Fastball’s brilliant The Way currently in high rotation on the radio is absolute fucking garbage, by talentless EDM assholes with no concept of what makes a good cover.

It’s connection to the music. It’s taking what connects you to the song and allowing that to emerge into something new.

It’s not about bored (and boring) techno tricks.

Christ, and I thought the last 90s rip-off was bad (I put it out of my head).

This is worse.

Target: 1600 words
Written: 1629 words, novel: Father Lightning

Read: The Faded Sun: Shon'jir, C.J. Cherryh
Comics: Invincible 52-54, Dynamo 5 17
Music: Freak Show, Silverchair

angry

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My wife says I’m angry. I say she’s angry. She says that’s just at her daughter, but it bleeds out into the rest of the world.

Mine does as well. I’m sick of other people.

I listen to A Wave Across The Bay and I want that for myself.

I want endless falling, never crashing, never landing, never ceasing to exist, but never engaging again.

Endless travel, free of care, free of responsibility.

When Sartre says hell is other people, he might be on to a thing.

Target: 1600 words
Written: 1721 words, novel: Father Lightning

Read: On Love, Charles Bukowski
Comics: WildC.A.T.S. v6 8-11
Music: Flyin' The Flannel, FIREHOSE (I don't why it's listed in all caps)

you know what?

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That was cruel. Even though Billy Joel is the worst, it’s not my place to tell people what they like and don’t like. Challenge them by exposing them to better (much better), sure.

But outright condemnation and insults?

That’s beneath us.

Sorry, kid. That was rude. I won’t yuck your yum, even if your yum is a bland piece of unseasoned chicken breast, boiled for too long.

Target: 1600 words
Written: 1349 words, novel: Father Lightning

Read: The Black Unicorn, Terry Brooks
Comics: WildCats Nemesis 7-9, WildC.A.T.S. v4 1
Music: FireCracker Lounge, Sublime

billy joel

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My niece loves Billy Joel, and I can’t help but think we didn’t raise her right.

I mean, she’s a teenage girl from Gen Z. What is she connecting with? His bland, insipid, lifeless form of mediocrity is among some of the worst examples of popular music to ever exist.

You don’t need uptown girl or the piano man, child.

You need therapy.

Target: 1600 words
Written: 1466 words, novel: Father Lightning

Read: The Black Unicorn, Terry Brooks
Comics: WildCats Nemesis 3-6
Music: Fire Water Burn, Bloodhound Gang

disappointments

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You know how when your favourite artists love something, you kind of assume that because you’re into their work, you’d also be into the stuff that inspired them?

Like if Foo Fighters said they were into the Clash and the Ramones, I’d be like, I feel that, man.

That doesn’t always work. For example, I understand why Kurt Cobain would be into the Vaselines or David Bowie, but I will never understand the Meat Puppets.

The same, apparently, is true of Steve Aylett. I found him because multiple authors I was into said he was so good and groundbreaking and awesome.

Yeah.

I don’t get it.

The Crime Studio is an entire book, essentially written in the style of Luis telling his heist story in Ant-Man. And while that can be a funny bit over the course of a minute or three in a two hour movie, it’s annoying as fuck over a hundred and fifty pages (while simultaneously having the gall to slag Updike, Amis and Delillo – dude, you’re not better. This is college kid trying on an 80s movie punk persona and thinking he’s somehow managed the depth of James O’Barr, while really only succeeding in pretentious amateurishness posing as rebel pastiche. Who’s pretentious now, motherfucker? That’s right. Pastiche).

So, sorry, authors whose work I respect and adore. In this one, we don’t agree. Thumbs down.

Target: 1500 words
Written: 449 words, novel: Father Lightning

Read: The Crime Studio, Steven Aylett
Comics: Gen 13 v4 37-39, Team 7 v4 0
Music: 867-5309 (Live), Everclear

the conflagration of boor and aghast – playlist

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As I’m wont to do, I created a playlist to go along with this beast that was Bad Neighbours.

This one is a little more tongue-in-cheek and less moody.

This one is a little off.

This one was more general theme than specifics. The Mungk, I tried to fit specific songs to each scene; for Boor/Aghast, more of them had an overall thought to them. Joey could have applied in multiple places, as could White Trash Millionaire (and how could I pass using that, given the content?) I couldn’t find anything for between Dylan and Stewart; perhaps it’s my dissatisfaction with the scene. I considered Queen’s I’m Going Slightly Mad, but it felt like soft on soft on soft, and out of place. I had intended on ending with Walter Lemon’s turn to militancy and Dre, but then I had a waking dream about Walter Lemon, in cartoon form, taking his revenge on his enemies during end credits to Katy Perry, up to and including the orange menace.

Whether that would ever make it in a movie form is debatable; if that idiot’s still in charge, it would probably be lock-up for everyone involved, since, you know, fucking fascist.

It’s of questionable taste anyway. I’m not a person who advocates violence, but I am a person who hates fascism, and authoritarians of any stripe. I believe a good punch in the face would probably solve a lot of problems. Consequences, especially early on when problems first arise, can solve a lot of shit.

Anyway: Enjoy my weird pretentious liberal/80s crotch rock blend. Like a pumpkin spiced latte someone’s peed in.

The Walkthrough: Edith Piaf – Le Vieux Piano (3:13)
Kismet: The Scorpions – Rock You Like A Hurricane (4:12)
Our Dog In The Street #1: The Tragically Hip – Tired As Fuck (3:45)
Joey’s First Beer: Concrete Blonde – Joey (4:07)
Bowling Springs: Green Day – No Pride (2:20)
Delta-Fucking-Eighty-Eight: Jackie Brenston – Rocket 88 (2:47)
The Council Meeting Revelation: Black Stone Cherry – White Trash Millionaire (3:19)
Anger Baby: Ugly Kid Joe – Everything About You (4:20)
Tased: Accept – Balls To The Wall (5:43)
The Shooting Gallery: Pyotr Illyich Tchaikovsky – Symphony No. 6 In B Minor, Op. 74, “Pathetique”: III. Allegro Molto Vivace (8:51)
Our Dog In The Street #2: Dead Kennedys – Saturday Night Holocaust (4:19)
Boarded Up Windows And Blue Jeans: Warrant – Cherry Pie (3:21)
The Thing: Pat Benatar – Shadows Of The Night (4:22)
ASSHOLE: Bobby Darin – Splish Splash (2:12)
We Killed Some Poor Creatures For Your Dining Pleasure: The Buzzcocks – Mother Of Turds (3:21)
Get Me That Shelley Account: Jimmy Eat World – Bleed American (3:03)
Our Dog In The Street #3: The Muppets – Together Again (2:53)
Screaming Through The Door: Motley Crue – 18 & Life (3:53)
Waiting For Bail: CJ Ramone & Bad Chopper – Ain’t No Criminal (3:32)
Don’t Make Us Come Out There: Bob Dylan – The Times Are A-Changin’ (3:17)
Bonfire Of The Vanities: Rod Stewart – Tonight’s The Night (3:56)
Dawg, Fish, And Shank: Dr. Dre/Eminem – Forgot About Dre (3:42)
End Credits: Katy Perry – Never Really Over (3:44)

Target: 1400 words
Written: 519 words, poem: Kill Everything

Read: Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind, Shunryu Suzuki
Comics: Jack Of Fables 37-38, Fables 88-89
Music: Wiggle Diskette, They Might Be Giants

under pressure

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Coming down on me, it’s Queen’s best song.

Which is ironically, half-David Bowie.

Says a lot, don’t it?

Target: 1400 words
Written: 891 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Soon I Will Be Invincible, Austin Grossman
Comics: Fables 75-76, Jack Of Fables 25-26
Music: Who's Next, The Who

overpowered by funk

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I’m having a hard time with my playlist for Bad Neighbours.

Some songs suggested themselves immediately, as they often do, but my editing and writing has been snippets here and there, and not set to music as it usually is, so the opportunity for those happy accidents, where a song comes on while in the middle of a scene and matches it so well it can’t not be used, are few and far between.

(See Run, Alice, Mungk).

Anyway, I’ve got one more scene to go before I start the final draft, and goshdarnit, I’m going to get some goddamn music in these ears.

For reals.

Target: 1400 words
Written: 399 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Tesla: Man Out Of Time, Margaret Cheney
Comics: Fables 57-58, Jack Of Fables 7-8
Music: Who Killed Amanda Palmer?, Amanda Palmer (wait, she killed herself?  Or the Who killed her?  Damn you, Keith Moon!)

reminders

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This book is reminding me of why I love the Hip, and Gord Downie in particular, and why my heroes went from being rebels who gave everyone the finger, to nice people who weren’t afraid of hard truths and dark places.

Loudmouth boors be damned.

Give me a soft-spoken purveyor of real things, dark and light, any day.

Target: 1400 words
Written: 1407 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: The Never-Ending Present, Michael Barclay
Comics: Youngblood v6 4-7
Music: Where Have All The Merrymakers Gone?, Harvey Danger (one of my youthful favourites)