Listening Party

Diane reminded me that there are probably people out there vitally interested in what is surging through our headphones feeding voices from another world directly into our brains. So here’s another installment of Listening Party:

The Girl’s Got Dirt

Here it is! My first good mash-up. I’ve been playing around with Acid Pro for a while now and put together a few different kinda-almost mashups. This one is the first that’s really come out well. I’ve been trying to figure out what it is about mashups that turns me on. I guess part of it is that I’m a musician, temporarily without other musicians to play with. But then there’s the appeal of mashups themselves. More on that later. For now, enjoy Jay-z vs. AC/DC – The Girl’s Got Dirt.”

My First Show

The first show I ever saw was the Beach Boys at MacArthur Court, the basketball arena at the University of Oregon. I remember my desk in my old room, and the way it looked with the concert tickets tucked safely under the edge of the blotter. My sister and I were equally excited about the concert. I’m not sure why…I don’t remember either of us really caring much about the Beach Boys. At the time she was a Shawn Cassidy fan, and I was pretty heavy into either Joan Jett, Blondie, or KISS…depending on the time of day.

I remember a few flashes about the show. I remember that we were behind a post and had to lean to the left or right to get a good view of…who? No idea. I mean, these days I know…it was all about Brian Wilson. At the time I had no fucking idea who Brian Wilson was. I knew Gene, I knew Paul, I knew Peter and I knew Ace…but Brian?!? Not fucking likely. I really have no idea whatsoever why the ‘sis and I were so damn excited about that show. I couldn’t have been more than 10 or 11, so I guess that explains it.

There weren’t a whole lot of shows at MacArthur Court. The only other band I ever saw there was The Clash. It was 1984; my junior year of high school. It was one of the last times I went out with one group of friends, before abandoning them for another group. I remember that Jimmy took something nasty and had to leave. I don’t remember if I went with him. I do remember that The Clash was something. Really something. It was all I had room for. Sorry Jimmy.

I’ve lost track of a lot of things in the last 20 years. I get lost really easily while driving. I am easily lost in conversations with any background noise at all, because my hearing is so bad. I have ADD, and am prone to feel depressed for no reason at all. I am constantly surprised when people I work with find my work noteworthy.

But there are two things I still have a tight grip on:

1. My sister was there for my first rock show
2. I got to see Joe Strummer live, on stage, singing words with feeling

Which of those is the more important is meaningless to me. They are both mine, and I’m keeping them.

From Blown Speakers

When the contact high
from the real life adventures wear off,
you find, in the tiny moments that bomb, your old files rain down from the sky.

And would they fall down,
like cymbal crashes, would the alarm bell sound?
Would your eyelashes keep all this in time?
If not, I won’t mind…

it can be impractical.
it can be impractical

So can you tell me
why in every version of the events shown here,
theres another season that crawls by like years,
from blown speakers clear?

It came out magical.
it came out magical.

Just a contact high,
one in every mood I’ve ever declined to fight,
one in every single exchange you might find.
From blown speakers,
time came out magical

It came out magical, out from blown speakers
it came out magical, out from blown speakers

-The New Pornographers