You know what, folks, no one likes Captain Beefheart. Maybe Tom Waits does, or did at one point. But ol' Tom's half-crazy and half-Angel, so these sort of things are bound to happen. Aficionados(read: snobs) can sit around cafes or what have you, discussing his rampant musical genius until the cows wander home at first light or last call, but they're all terrible liars. What can you say about a man who's recorded hundreds of songs and produced a sum total of ten that are possibly, I say again, possibly listenable. Granted, of those ten, ten are probably better than anything recorded by 89.7% of music artists throughout history, but that is not the goddamn point, here. So don't talk to me about Captain Beefheart, I have no desire to hear about it, no desire at all.

I'm living straight in the past, but I'm doing it in the present. Which means, in real terms, that all the music I will henceforth consume will be modern musical artists steeped in and inspired by the traditions of earlier garage, rock, punk, blues, country and soul. I have no time to listen to Sly & the Family Stone, sorry, rather give me The Dirtbombs covering them. I refuse to listen to the Shangri-Las, but will always make time for The Reigning Sound, as Greg Cartwright produced Mary Weiss' recent comeback album. Speaking of comeback, how about some '68 Comeback with Monsieur Jeffery Evans? Yes, goddammit, I say yes.

Ah, christ, the Devil is in me, and this rant has taken it out of me.

This is what I have to say, which I suppose makes this update slightly better than those peons that begin updates with 'I haven't updated, I have nothing to say'. Everyone has something to say, but to find an audience that actually wants to hear it, well. Professionals call that there the rub.

So, consider yourself on notice, you are about to be updated.

I'm sitting in my bed, where I've been since Friday evening, typing this useless garbage into the text window and half paying attention to youtube videos of The Dirtbombs @ Johnny Brenda's in Fishtown, a show I attended earlier this year. It was hands down the best I have ever seen this band play. Granted, I had only seen them four times before this show, but by the end of this year I will have seen them a grand total of seven, four of those coming just this year. Philadelphia seems to be, or at least has been, something of a pariah in the national touring garage rock scene. Just a few years back I saw The Detroit Cobras open up for the Reverend Horton Heat. All eight of us who knew who they were crowded the barrier to get that much closer to Rachel Nagy and her shimmering beauty. They were as overwhelmed by our adoration as they were underwhelmed by the rest of the audience who couldn't be bothered to give a shit. Which is really the problem here.

Philadelphia crowds have a strict no-dance rule. I admit to being less part of the solution and more part of the problem. Where I come from, men don't dance. Exceptions include dancing when forced to by girlfriends and at your own wedding. I've been to shows in the nation's capitol, I've been to shows in Los Angeles and Long Beach, I've seen bands in the NYC and Hoboken, I even saw the Crass Collective perform in London. And people dance at these things. Oh, how they dance. In Philadelphia we generally tap our feet, nod our heads and sip our pints. And we exude from our very pores that odor of 'I couldn't possibly give less of a shit'. Which doesn't exactly encourage bands that make little money, ride long hours in a smelly van and do it generally for the love to want to come back and visit more often. So, I missed my first chance to see The Dirtbombs way back in '01 when they opened for The Datsuns, and they just never came back. Since, I've seen them twice in Hoboken, twice in Asbury, once in Los Angeles and once in D.C. Sandwiched in between one of those they finally made their return to Philadelphia, which has recently become more garage friendly with homegrown honest-to-god Rock n' Roll bands, garage and rock nights around town and venues what seem to actually cater to rock music fans and pay decent acts some decent money. Maybe, maybe not. Its entirely possible these things always existed and I'm just living in a wider world now, more aware of the things going on around me. Either way, it seems like the city was ready for The Dirtbombs when they braved in again, and man, it was a sight to see. Mick Collins seemed generally blown away by the sound and the fury from the audience, and as previously mentioned, of the eight times I've seen them, this was by far the best.

So, I'm switching between this tab and that, flipping through iTunes and youtube, watching videos from the performance and reminiscing.

Sometimes I get depressed, like today for instance. I've been sick in bed since dropping The Woman off at the airport at four AM, Friday morning. I wanted to get so much done this weekend, reading, writing, researching, preparation, plans, schemes. Instead I've laid in bed when I haven't been busy in the bathroom vomiting up failed internal organs. All those wonderful schemes, failed to come to fruition, and the beginning of another dreary workweek staring me down, all of fourteen hours away. The Fear takes hold so strongly that all I can think of is failed projects, broken dreams, and the fact that I'm not far off from thirty with nothing that I thought I would have accomplished by this age checked off the to-do-list. Never wrote my great American novel, never finished college, hell, I'm barely employable. Yet, with all that, I've got a pretty nice life and whenever I sit down and look back on it I'm struck dumb by the fact that I've lived, seen and experienced some pretty amazing things. I saw Joe Strummer sing 'Rudie Can't Fail', I watched Crass perform in London, I've lived on both coasts of America, was able to take my best friend to Tijuana and out of the country for the first time ever and been a lover of many beautiful women.

So, in other words, I suppose I can take a weekend off every now and then.

(xx)

Anyway, I'm failing to get the point of Suicidegirls social networking tools. For whatever reason, its somewhat difficult for me to track and find what my internet friends are up to on this site, no one ever seems to inform anyone else about what's going on in their corner of the world, and when someone does, no one seems to take heed. What passes for meaningful interaction here now seems constrained to playing 'dogpile on the stupid conservative' on the Current Event boards, or playing 'make fun of anyone who isn't a complete music snob' on the Music Boards. Oh, and lots of lolcats and random other shit from 4Chan. Brilliant.

So, rebill's up in March, probably take another couple of months off, unless I forget to cancel the rebill, which is just as likely.

(xx)

Status:

Wearing: Clothes I can puke on in a clinch, old torn up New York Dolls shirt and some sweatpants, if I go out latter, probably some faded black Levis, my ubiquitous Pogues shirt and my Chuck Taylors.
Listening: Tokyo Sex Destruction, The Dirtbombs, The Compulsive Gamblers, The Reigning Sound.
Reading: Still switching back and forth between Martain Martin McDonagh's The Pillowman & a quick reread of selected bits of Pedro Juan's The Dirty Havana Trilogy. Next up is Dee-Dee Ramone's Chelsea Horror Hotel which so far as failed to inspire or ignite, then I finally finish off William Gibson's Spook Country.
Watching: Trainspotting again. Dunx once asked why watching Leaving Las Vegas makes you never want to drink again, yet watching Trainspotting only makes the desire to go score stronger. I blinked and replied that I always want a drink while watching Leaving Las Vegas.
Goal for the week: To write at least three songs(lyrics, music is for someone else), read at least one book, write at least one story and grow my hair out again. I want to have hair to style for the new year, goddammit.
Thoughts: The Libertines' self-titled and final album is the perfect album to listen to as the year winds down to death, its got a brilliant end-of-the-affair quality to it.

(xxx)

This has been a patented ChrisSick Update™, you may now return to your regularly scheduled programming.