Let's Go Surfing!

Those of you who are regular readers and who assiduously study the Blog Roll over in the left-hand column (scroll down, you'll find it) will notice a few new additions.  You know what that means! Time once again to help you break up the boredom with another collection of some of the niftiest stuff I've found out there in my travels across the big, wide Internets.  When you're not spending your time here, take a moment and drop by these sites.  In no particular order...

This Charming Charlie
I have noted before that I generally don't get Tumblr blogs, but I do know a damn brilliant concept when I see it, and This Charming Charlie is about as brilliant a concept as I've seen on the Internets.  Like most examples of genius, it's a simple proposition: mash together frames from old Peanuts cartoons with lyrics from The Smiths.  So basic, and yet each new creation has me gnashing my teeth saying "I wish I'd thought of this first!"  Whether it's Lucy sitting on a front stoop musing "Now I know how Joan of Arc felt," Snoopy and Woodstock thinking "That joke isn't funny anymore," or Charlie himself quoting "How Soon Is Now," the concept works so well because the lyrics are so perfectly matched to the personalities we know these characters to have.  Well played.

Arcane Radio Trivia
For a broadcasting history buff like me, Arcane Radio Trivia is a treasure trove of neat stuff.  You'll meet a collection of the most fascinating characters to ever take to the airwaves; you'll hear scratchy audio of early broadcasts rescued from chipped and deteriorating transcription discs; you'll learn about the technological advances that made broadcasting possible in the first place.  Recent posts have included a review of the spectrum of sounds that actually make up what you and I hear as static, a report on the finding of a stash of operating logs from Franklin & Marshall College's WFNM dating from 1976, and rescued audio of the final outs of  the second game of the 1947 World Series.  Bookmark this one!

Paracinema
"Genre Films," the flip side of the Art Film coin, are celebrated in both the blogosphere and the print world thanks to the utterly wonderful Paracinema.  The online presence both supplements the far-too-sporadically published magazine of the same name, and stands independently of it; together they gather some of the best independent writing critically assessing everything from Spaghetti Westerns to Sexploitation flicks to direct-to-video films of all stripes, and much more celluloid insanity.  If you're looking for an explanation as to why Phoebe Cates' pool scene in Fast Times At Ridgemont High became such an iconic '80s moment or a history of how the non-existent Alan Smithee came to direct so many films, the folks at Paracinema are waiting for you to stop by. And at $7 an issue delivered, it's well worth supporting.

Or, As We Used To Call It: Talking To Yourself
So, a good friend I've known since eighth grade started up a blog a short while back.  Since he doesn't use his name on the blog, I won't give it away here.  I will just say you are missing out some excellent commentary on cultural current events and truly intriguing essays on assorted films (the Film Friday posts are not to be missed!) if you are not treading this one.  No frills here - no flashy images or fancy backgrounds, just damn good writing.

*stills
*stills is a fascinating commentary on our cultural history from the early-to-mid 20th century, done without words.  For many years, silent 8mm home movies were the way families documented the important events in their lives - more often than not, the annual family vacations.  Emma Hurst worked as a research intern under Rick Prelinger, scouring through thousands upon thousands of home movies as part of the creation of his 2012 film No More Road Trips?, and in this Tumblr blog she collects some of her favorite still frames from those movies.  Simultaneously nostalgic and telling, you see what was important to our parents and grandparents without having to sit through hours of clacking home projectors and bad splice jobs. Remember kids, one day this is how future generations will look at your Instagram shots...

Everything Is Terrible
Quickly becoming one of my favorite sites to visit each day, Everything Is Terrible proclaims itself to be "this world's only psychedelic found footage comedy website that tours the Earth with face-melting live shows that include puppets, Jerry Maguires stacked to the heavens, and adoring cloaked followers begging EIT! for more! And we make DVDs!" Imagine taking the contents of your local video rental shop circa 1984, pouring it all into a blender and pressing "puree." All kinds of neat things surface here, remixed and video-collaged into handy little chunks of head-shaking, jaw-dropping goofiness. An instructional tape for how to play (not necessarily how to win, but how to play) Las Vegas slot machines, a recruiting tape to try to sell you on running your own 1-900 phone line (remember those?), and Goldie Hawn and the Harlem Globetrotters singing "Short People" are just some examples of what you're in for here.  Mind-numbing fun!

Weird Universe
In a similar vein, Weird Universe is a repository for, well, damn weird stuff of all types.  Where Everything Is Terrible has a specific niche, Weird Universe casts as wide a net as possible, finding strange old advertising, unusual news items, rare clips from the early days of television, and more.  I have literally found myself spending hours digging through the site's archives. So much weirdness = so much good stuff.

Zombie Dead Blog
Blogging can be a chore.  Many, many folks start out with great intentions of creating their own little corner of the Internet where they can hold court on any number of topics.  Many, many folks find that they burn out after a short while.  A precious few continually struggle onward, sometimes going on brief hiatuses here and there, but never giving up.  And then there are those who never quite got out of the gate.  It is those bloggers whose candle burned out moments after coming up with a great blog name, or those whose debut post turned out also to be their swan song, who are celebrated at Zombie Dead Blog.  Think of it as a virtual tour of the abandoned houses and forgotten ghost towns of the blogosphere, or a brief glimpse of what could have been if so many muses hadn't gone silent.  Fascinating.

The History Of Phone Phreaking Blog
Many people think the rise of the Hacker is a relatively recent phenomenon, tied to the 21st century technology surge, computer viruses and online trolling.  In fact, hacking has been around since long before the Internets arrived in our homes, and many of today's hackers - from the amateur just curious to try to figure out how all this tech stuff works to the seasoned pro who can seem to find a way into any system and cause all sorts of havoc - can trace their lineage back to characters like Joe Engressia, the mysterious Captain Crunch, and a couple of fellas named Wozniak and Jobs who, in the 1960s and 1970s were exploring the labrynthian telephone systems of the world with a whistle and a blue box. Go, read, learn.

I'll Take Ten!
What's that? You say you need a cat hammock, a roll of glow-in-the-dark toilet paper, and some bacon lollipops, but you just don't know where to go to get them? You want to fry an egg in the shape of a handgun and open your mail with miniature samurai sword, but your stumped as to how to make that happen? Can't make it through another day without french fry lip balm and caffeinated soap?  All this and more can be yours at I'll Take Ten!  Me, I'm saving up for the $350K life-size moving triceratops...

OK, so there's my current list of neat items that I think are worth sharing with you.  If you've missed any of the previous times I've recommended blogs, books, podcasts, etc., click on the "Recommended" link at the top of the page.  Also, please check out the sites listed on my blogroll on the left-hand side of the page (keep scrolling, you'll find it).  I share these items with you because I think they are worth your time and attention - I'm not receiving any compensation from any of these folks for pointing you towards them.  Heck, most of them have no freaking clue who I am!  Still, if you find something you like, let me know in the comments below.  Similarly, if you have some recommendations to add, feel free to list them in the comments, or contact me through the blog's Facebook Page to talk about a guest post.  Let me hear from you!

Six Word Sunday

It's time to make some changes!

Reporting Live From The Eye Of The Storm

It's been awhile since I have had the need to blog about my battles with my internal demons, but here I sit on a Sunday evening finding myself in the midst of a storm inside my brain that rolled in so fast I did not have time to prepare.  Usually I can see these clouds forming and, while I can't always thwart the incoming attack, at least I am usually able to take the appropriate steps to shelter myself (and those around me) from the worst of the maelstrom.

Perhaps it's wrong to say I didn't see this one coming; a more correct assessment would be to say what I thought was a thunderstorm turned out to be hurricane.  It's been a long, tough, painful week at work.  What folks who do not suffer from the sort of anxieties and depressions many of us battle do not understand is that we also tend to guilt-sponges.  For as long as I can remember, whenever I sensed that people around me were upset or angry, my immediate assumption has always been that I must have done something wrong; that somehow this disturbance in the peace is my fault.  Now, sensible people would see that, if something were indeed their fault, they would be directly approached about it; if no one is telling them they are at fault, sensible folk deduce that they must not be at fault and move on with their lives.  Not so with me.  No, in my warped world, the very fact that I'm not being directly confronted about something only serves to make it clear that I am indeed the problem.  That Social Anxiety Demon who keeps me believing that I am forever at risk of being set up for embarrassment, humiliation, or ridicule, whispers in my ear that everyone must be talking about me behind my back.  Paranoid? Damn right you should be paranoid! They're out to get you! I hate that demon with every ounce of my soul.  That demon holds me back more than any other I battle.

That demon had me convinced this week that I was the cause of the issues that made it a difficult week, but the week seemed to end on a reasonably high enough note.  I was feeling better about things and headed into the weekend ready to begin anew.  Saturday went by uneventfully, as did this morning, but by mid-afternoon, my internal world was in shambles.

I can't tell you when it happened or even how it began.  I realized I was sitting on my sofa in the living room staring blankly out the window with neither the TV nor the stereo on (a rarity indeed!) in silence, wanting to scream, to cry, to beat my fists against the wall.  My head had begun to hurt, as if my skull were being pressurized from inside and likely to blow apart at any moment.  My stomach lurched and I felt physically weak.  Since about 2:00 this afternoon, this is how I have felt.  The physical discomfort is not constant, other than the headache, but the want to just cry and scream in some sort of primal release is very strong.  As I write this I am simultaneously holding back tears yet wanting them to flow.

And the worst part of it all?  I can't tell you why.  I don't know why.  I don't think there is a "why."

Sure, there are things that are wrong in my world, as there are in anyone's.  Yes, I am fighting to regain the sense of security I once had before the economy collapsed and I found myself back to living paycheck to paycheck and struggling to stay above water, but so are many people.  I have a plan for those things, a strategy to rebuild, and it is working, slowly but surely.

Sure, there are the life choices I wish I would have made differently, such as never learning to drive or never marrying and starting my own family, but those situations are what they are, and they are certainly not new issues that just arose in my mind this weekend.

So what is it? Why is it? Why do I feel like this, and why does it happen so often?  Especially when it hadn't happened for such a long stretch?

To be clear, this is not a panic attack I am experiencing.  I know those very well, unfortunately.  No, this is a depression attack, and I am smack dab in the middle of it.  Funny, though, that the "rational" part of my brain realizes this much, and is allowing me to communicate it through writing.  I just want it to stop - I want this episode to stop, and want this all to stop happening ever again.  I want to be a normal, regular person.  I just wish I were normal.

I will get through this. I always do.  Whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger,  right?

Enough rambling.

Six Word Sunday

Rain will be welcome this afternoon!

New Wave for the New Week #165

The classic era of New Wave, circa 1978 - 1981, left behind several eccentric curios - bizarre one-shot bands that rode the wave briefly and wiped out hard, never to be heard from again, or eclectic experimenters who thrived on trying something beyond the traditional radio-friendly three and half minute pop song.  One band fit both descriptions during the New Wave heyday, and then managed to extend their lifespan longer than anyone thought probable by completely redefining themselves, at least finding dance club success if not chart fame and radio airplay.

When they began in 1978, the band Fàshiön (originally fully named Fàshiön Music on their first few singles) sounded like no one who had come before them - or after, for that matter.  They created a trippy, out-of-phase, almost dreamlike drone from shards of Reggae, Psychedelia, and Punk.  With frontman Luke Sky's bizarre vocal swoops tugging the melodies along, their early records at times sounded akin to Brian Eno-era Roxy Music played at the wrong speed on warped vinyl, but they remain fascinating artifacts of the era. "Steady Eddie Steady" and "Citinite" are the best examples of these early oddities, which caught the ear of Miles Copeland who quickly snapped them up for his fledgling I.R.S. Records label.

It was for I.R.S. that Fàshiön recorded their debut EP, containing my pick as their finest vinyl moment, the raucous "Sodium Pentathol Negative," which was also chosen as the band's representative cut on the essential I.R.S.'s Greatest Hits Vols. II & III compilation.  That it wasn't included on their first proper LP, 1979's Product Perfect, only goes to show how much solid material the band was pumping out. Indeed, only "Citinite" made the cut from the first several singles.  It's a truly wonderful album, highlighted by the sprawling, somewhat unsettling "Bike Boys."  Well worth seeking out.

Shortly thereafter, Sky left the band, and Fàshiön might very well have disappeared into the mists of time. Remaining band members John Mulligan (bass and synths), Dik Davis (drums), and Al James (guitar) had other ideas, however.  They brought in a new vocalist, and in 1982 suddenly bobbed back up to the surface with a new album, Fabrique (reissued many years later on CD as The Height of Fashion).  Old fans had little to celebrate, sadly, as this record bears little to no resemblance to anything done under the Fàshiön name before.  This was slick, polished New Romantic/pseudo-soul pop music, an obvious attempt to latch onto the "sound of the moment." While they scored some club hits ("You Only Left Your Picture," "Streetplayer"), they didn't find the commercial success they had hoped for.  A further reshuffling and another change in vocalists occurred, and they tried one more time. 1984's Twilight Of Idols took unapologetic aim at the dance floors, and while it is certainly danceable, it's unfortunately also generic and forgettable. 

For this week's NW4NW entry, we go back to Fàshiön's early material and remember good band they were at the start, even if they turned out to be a chameleonic curio by the end. Two audio-only clips are presented: first up, their excellent debut, "Steady Eddie Steady," and then the fantastic "Sodium Pentathol Negative." Enjoy!

Six Word Sunday

Warm, sunshiney catnap kind of day.

New Wave for the New Week #164

Combining hook-laden high-energy jangling guitar pop with a Punk Rock sneer and a boatload of irresistibly catchy choruses, The Buzzcocks appeared on the scene in the wake of The Sex Pistols' initial assault on UK eardrums in 1976.  The band was originally the creation of schoolmates Howard Devoto and Pete Shelley who, with bassist Steve Diggle and drummer John Maher, issued the 4-song 7-inch Spiral Scratch EP that year on their own New Hormones label, making them among the earliest of the  Punk crowd to take the independent release route.

Spiral Scratch's songs are sharp, abrasive, angular blurts that only begin to display what The Buzzcock's sound would evolve into; the highlight here is the leadoff track, "Boredom," which is everything a Punk Rock song should be: short, minimalist, snarky and intelligent ("Now I'm living in this ennui/But it doesn't suit me...").  The Devoto/Shelley pairing would not last long. Devoto was more interested in exploring electronic music, and shortly after this debut he left the band to form Magazine.

Pete Shelley took over the lead vocal duties, Steve Diggle moved from bass to guitar, and Steve Garvey joined on bass, and in short order the classic Buzzcocks lineup was in place.  Over the next three years The Buzzcocks would deliver three outstanding albums and a dozen or more ace singles for their new label, United Artists.  They differed from their contemporaries in Shelley's adenoidal yet melodic vocals and the use of Beatles-inspired harmonies.  Where the Punk crowd was going on about political and social injustices, The Buzzcocks were singing about paranoia, alienation and unrequited love - and scoring hit after hit in the UK while doing so.

Their first United Artists single, 1977's "Orgasm Addict," brought about controversy given its rather frank approach to its subject matter, but also sold very well despite just missing the UK Top 40.  The follow-up, "What Do I Get?," did make the Top 40, and The Buzzcocks were off on a great run. All three of their United Artists LPs (Another Music In A Different Kitchen, Love Bites, and A Different Kind Of Tension) have aged remarkably well and are strewn with classics like "Ever Fallen In Love (With Someone You Should'nt've?)," "Sixteen Again," "Fast Cars," "You Say You Don't Love Me," and so on; the band also scored with a handful of non-album singles including "Love You More," "Everybody's Happy Nowadays," and "Harmony In My Head."   In 1979, UA helpfully compiled all of the A and B sides of their singles into one album, Singles Going Steady. Essential.

As the 1980's kicked off, The Buzzcocks began slowing down.  The delivered three more singles, which were later compiled into a 12-inch EP, but Shelley soon left to pursue a solo career, Diggle and Maher moved on to form Flag Of Convenience, and The Buzzcocks were apparently done.  A decade later, there was enough interest in the band to reissue everything except for the original four Spiral Scratch tracks in a boxed set called Product.  Sales were surprisingly strong, and Shelley and Diggle started toying with the idea of a reunion.

By 1993, a regrouped Buzzcocks had their first new recorded material in more than ten years. Trade Test Transmissions kicked off a run of five more albums, including All Set, Modern, Buzzcocks, and Flat-Pack Philosophy, which all showed the band hadn't lost a step despite the lengthy layoff.  Songs like the incredible "Soul On A Rock" (from Modern) can be proudly filed alongside The Buzzcock's classic material.

For this return to NW4NW, I am happy to present two of The Buzzcock's best from their classic era, "What Do I Get?" and the utterly wonderful "I Don't Mind," as well as the more recent vintage "Soul On A Rock."  Enjoy!

Related articles

• New Wave for the New Week #96 BONUS ENTRY! BY REQUEST! Magazine
• New Wave for the New Week #88
• New Wave for the New Week #137
• New Wave for the New Week #95 BONUS ENTRY! BY REQUEST!

Six Word Sunday

It’s all coming back around again…

Celebrating the Birth of a Nix-Nootz

When Amadeus became a permanent resident of Ruttville last summer, he had only been a resident of the planet for four weeks.  He was a bonus in the transaction that brought his "older brother" Edison to my home; the feline equivalent of the untested prospect tossed into fulfill the "player to be named later" provision in a baseball trade:  While in the process of adopting Edison, I mentioned that I wanted to find a second cat as well, so that they would keep each other company while I was at work.  The folks I was adopting Edison from mentioned having another kitten they needed to place, and soon sent me the picture to the right.  Who could say no to that face?

Though not as immediately apparent from his appearance as Edison, Amadeus is also part Siamese, on his mother's side. As he has grown, the most telling feature giving that away is his apple-shaped head. It was never fully clear what breed his father brought to the mix. There's some tiger tabby in there for sure, but it would not surprise me to learn that there is more than a little feral cat in Amadeus' heritage.  From nearly day one, he has been the wilder of the two.  Where Edison seems to carefully plan out his activities throughout the day and remains mostly calm and aloof, Amadeus tears willy-nilly around the house climbing shelves, knocking things over, occasionally misjudging jumps.  You can almost watch him get an idea in his head to do something and immediately race off to do it, without benefit of the filter Edison employs to at least briefly consider the ramifications of his actions.

Amadeus is the one of the pair who has actually drawn blood from me - twice! Neither time was on purpose; in both cases he was flying around the house at top speed.  The first time, he was chasing his brother around. I was sitting on the couch watching TV, and suddenly they were both charging directly towards me.   Edison made a last-minute course correction and dashed under the coffee table, but Amadeus couldn't stop himself.  Instead, he used my arm as a runaway truck ramp, and, in his attempt to slow down, gave me a nice little scratch to remember the occasion. The other time, he was sitting on my lap when my brother came by the house to visit.  My brother's arrival on the porch just outside the window by the sofa startled Amadeus, who tried to take off running just as I was trying to pick him up and set him on the floor.  One of his back claws caught my lower lip, and a mildly gory scene resulted.

These events gave Amadeus one of his many nicknames, Slasher.  His previous owners hadn't named him yet, but early on called him Hot Rod; my father bestowed the title of Ricochet Cat to him for his tendency to go top speed until he hit a wall or other dead end, then bounce off that to another apparently random direction.  But it was my mother who gave him the most fitting nickname: Nix-Nootz.  It's a Pennsylvania Dutch term for a mischievous child who is always getting himself into trouble, often despite himself.  Not a bad kid, but one who can't seem to help himself from having a little devious fun when the opportunity presents itself.  And that, in a nutshell, is Amadeus.

He climbs to the highest perches he can find, and then hollers because he cannot figure out how to get back down.  He starts fights with his brother and finds himself pinned to the ground and on the receiving end of warning nip or two.  He's a bit of a thief, known to jump up on the table and snatch a paper towel or napkin and take off running with it, only for me to find it later shredded into confetti in the upstairs hall. He makes people laugh out loud with his antics.

But for all his craziness, he is one of the most loving cats I've ever known.  He throws himself bodily against me and rolls over on his back to have his belly scratched, purring so loudly you can hear him across the room; he always returns the favor by licking my arm. He curls up on top of me or in the crook of my arm to go to sleep, and usually waits until I have fallen asleep myself to leave.  He usually comes running when his name is called, hoping for at least a chin scritch.  He will engage in conversation, mewing responses to whatever I am saying.

Amadeus and Edison have grown into two cats with very distinct personalities, but I am so glad to have them both in my world.  As I've mentioned before, I know the positive effect they have had on my life; friends and family have also commented that I seem much happier having them around.  And now they have each passed the 365-day mark.

Happy Birthday, little Nix-Nootz.  Here's to celebrating many more of them for both you and your brother!

Six Word Sunday

Day over? Weekends end too soon!