Freedom Week and What was Learned
Tuesday:
As I stood stunned by the 90 minute-plus performance by Japan's ultimate fantasy, the Boredoms (or in this configuration the Vooredoms) I remembered something I heard Jim Shepard once said regarding his album Photograph Burns (as remembered by Ron House) :
Shepard: "This is in the top five of all-time."
House: "Top five albums?"
Shepard: "No, top five pieces of art of all-time."
Not to get hyperbolic, but the current show being shipped to only a handful of world cities by Eye and his three drummers (Yoshimi was one of them) is, like Photograph Burns, one of the top five pieces of art, of all-time. In trying to project a quartet of humans as a gigantic turntable, he has succeeded.
In hypnotizing me, he succeeded. In causing me to levitate in a psychedelic/transcendent fit of joy, he succeeded. By the end my pedometer read 2,000 steps, though I was standing in the same place for the entirety.
Lesson learned: Don't take pictures at the Wexner Center, even if 20 people around you are doing the same.
Wednesday:
Even if it says Digital 3-D and Imax on your ticket, do not proceed to the new Superman movie. It's OK, a solid B-, but not anything to raise your summer spirits.
Lesson learned: Don't believe the hype.
Thursday:
After scouring the internet as usual, I got bored, then started searching for Uruguyan punk bands on that MySpace site. Turns out a good friend of mine from Montevideo is working in a plastic factory in Boston as an illegal this summer. Love for Rodrigo, because this kid is the most unjaded music fan I think I've ever met.
Well I contacted him on instant messenger, and he quickly got online, and we began our chat, catching up, remembering his drunken comfest last year (in which I literally had to push him into the airport at 5 a.m. the next morning). He started a new band with his skateboarding friend. They're called 8. This picture says it all...
They need friends desperately, or maybe they don't. Either way, I can't get enough of the song "My Skateboarding." Take into consideration that they only know English from grunge and reruns of Dallas. I really wish I could just move there. Most. Underrated. Country. Ever.
Lesson learned: Never underestimate the power of Sonic Youth.
Friday:
Made a friendly wager at work that the Reds would beat the Indians. I left work with the Reds down 7-0 in the seventh inning. I went home and started drinking to chase away the demons that come with a Cincinnati loss. Then they scored 9 runs in their last six outs. Adam Dunn was a living, breathing, hero, smashing a walk-off grand-slam to end it. Probably the most exciting two innings of Red's baseball I've ever watched. Dunn subsequently went on to show how he's basically a one-dimensional player, helping the Reds lose the next four games (What the fuck was up with that baserunning error on Sunday?).
Lesson learned: When it comes to Cincinnati, never get your hopes up.
Saturday
Brazil loses to France. My wife and her two Brazilian guests cry, get depressed, and almost smash in my television. We wallow in our misery by going to the Carabar, where there's a guy in a Zidane jersey who looks just like Zidane.
I thought a fight might break out, but the sounds of Ocean Ghosts helped everything remain copacetic. They even did a Whodini cover. But all that said, Ocean Ghosts = a duo better heard than actually seen. To quell a recent internet debate, the first thing my wife said when they took the stage was "They like the Gil Mantera." She's a beauty.
Lesson learned: Never bet on a sure thing.
Sunday:
Pampered our hangovers with barbequed meat and Paper Rad. Full review of their Trash Talking DVD coming soon.
Lesson learned: Repetition of flashing colors and buzzsaw synths, do not a calm Sunday make.
Monday:
Carol (my wife's visiting friend, not my wife) and I head down to Used Kid's via COTA (another story for another time, if you have a great COTA story, post it in the comments). She finds some buried treasure. I find absolutely nothing. That is until Seanzilla hands me a cheap disc by the DoubleHappys. Whoa. Like the Clean, only rougher, diriter, more Southern? "Big Fat Elvis" is my new anthem. Now I can't find anything better than this in my collection to listen to (besides that Brightblack Morning Light record I keep raving about). I'm done with stealing shit. Long live obscure Kiwi Rock, long live the compact disc. Used Kid's will survive, not because they order exactly what I want (they hardly ever do), but because they are the last refuge for this dying medium (and I'm not talking about vinyl, though I've been on a New Pop kick and the dollar bin has cured it).
Red White and Boom continues to be the most incredulous and soul-sapping event this city has ever held. I had to work within a mile of this disgraceful display (they played the Golden Girls theme for chrissakes), and for some reason we get less and less people every year. Someone tell them to stop it already.
Lesson learned: Once you've seen one firework, you've seen them all.
Oh yeah....and Freedom isn't free, it's a heavy fucking fee. It takes folks like you and me. And if your don't pitch in your buck o' five, who will? Freedom costs a buck o' fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiive.
Keep rolling North Korea.
As I stood stunned by the 90 minute-plus performance by Japan's ultimate fantasy, the Boredoms (or in this configuration the Vooredoms) I remembered something I heard Jim Shepard once said regarding his album Photograph Burns (as remembered by Ron House) :
Shepard: "This is in the top five of all-time."
House: "Top five albums?"
Shepard: "No, top five pieces of art of all-time."
Not to get hyperbolic, but the current show being shipped to only a handful of world cities by Eye and his three drummers (Yoshimi was one of them) is, like Photograph Burns, one of the top five pieces of art, of all-time. In trying to project a quartet of humans as a gigantic turntable, he has succeeded.
In hypnotizing me, he succeeded. In causing me to levitate in a psychedelic/transcendent fit of joy, he succeeded. By the end my pedometer read 2,000 steps, though I was standing in the same place for the entirety.
Lesson learned: Don't take pictures at the Wexner Center, even if 20 people around you are doing the same.
Wednesday:
Even if it says Digital 3-D and Imax on your ticket, do not proceed to the new Superman movie. It's OK, a solid B-, but not anything to raise your summer spirits.
Lesson learned: Don't believe the hype.
Thursday:
After scouring the internet as usual, I got bored, then started searching for Uruguyan punk bands on that MySpace site. Turns out a good friend of mine from Montevideo is working in a plastic factory in Boston as an illegal this summer. Love for Rodrigo, because this kid is the most unjaded music fan I think I've ever met.
Well I contacted him on instant messenger, and he quickly got online, and we began our chat, catching up, remembering his drunken comfest last year (in which I literally had to push him into the airport at 5 a.m. the next morning). He started a new band with his skateboarding friend. They're called 8. This picture says it all...
They need friends desperately, or maybe they don't. Either way, I can't get enough of the song "My Skateboarding." Take into consideration that they only know English from grunge and reruns of Dallas. I really wish I could just move there. Most. Underrated. Country. Ever.
Lesson learned: Never underestimate the power of Sonic Youth.
Friday:
Made a friendly wager at work that the Reds would beat the Indians. I left work with the Reds down 7-0 in the seventh inning. I went home and started drinking to chase away the demons that come with a Cincinnati loss. Then they scored 9 runs in their last six outs. Adam Dunn was a living, breathing, hero, smashing a walk-off grand-slam to end it. Probably the most exciting two innings of Red's baseball I've ever watched. Dunn subsequently went on to show how he's basically a one-dimensional player, helping the Reds lose the next four games (What the fuck was up with that baserunning error on Sunday?).
Lesson learned: When it comes to Cincinnati, never get your hopes up.
Saturday
Brazil loses to France. My wife and her two Brazilian guests cry, get depressed, and almost smash in my television. We wallow in our misery by going to the Carabar, where there's a guy in a Zidane jersey who looks just like Zidane.
I thought a fight might break out, but the sounds of Ocean Ghosts helped everything remain copacetic. They even did a Whodini cover. But all that said, Ocean Ghosts = a duo better heard than actually seen. To quell a recent internet debate, the first thing my wife said when they took the stage was "They like the Gil Mantera." She's a beauty.
Lesson learned: Never bet on a sure thing.
Sunday:
Pampered our hangovers with barbequed meat and Paper Rad. Full review of their Trash Talking DVD coming soon.
Lesson learned: Repetition of flashing colors and buzzsaw synths, do not a calm Sunday make.
Monday:
Carol (my wife's visiting friend, not my wife) and I head down to Used Kid's via COTA (another story for another time, if you have a great COTA story, post it in the comments). She finds some buried treasure. I find absolutely nothing. That is until Seanzilla hands me a cheap disc by the DoubleHappys. Whoa. Like the Clean, only rougher, diriter, more Southern? "Big Fat Elvis" is my new anthem. Now I can't find anything better than this in my collection to listen to (besides that Brightblack Morning Light record I keep raving about). I'm done with stealing shit. Long live obscure Kiwi Rock, long live the compact disc. Used Kid's will survive, not because they order exactly what I want (they hardly ever do), but because they are the last refuge for this dying medium (and I'm not talking about vinyl, though I've been on a New Pop kick and the dollar bin has cured it).
Red White and Boom continues to be the most incredulous and soul-sapping event this city has ever held. I had to work within a mile of this disgraceful display (they played the Golden Girls theme for chrissakes), and for some reason we get less and less people every year. Someone tell them to stop it already.
Lesson learned: Once you've seen one firework, you've seen them all.
Oh yeah....and Freedom isn't free, it's a heavy fucking fee. It takes folks like you and me. And if your don't pitch in your buck o' five, who will? Freedom costs a buck o' fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiive.
Keep rolling North Korea.
posted by Kevin J. Elliott at 11:40 AM
3 comments 
3 Comments:
Wow, serious post dude. Good work. But seriously, people can tolerate the Ocean Ghosts?!?
Check it. COTA story, RED WHITE & BOOM story. My lady & I, we take the bus when we can, especially when we're going downtown, which we hate to do, but we both work there. We have a good friend who lives on Long st. between Front & High. He invited us over for RW&B. More of a cocktail party, really. We decided (stupidly, it turns out)to take the bus. The bus stop is practically in front of our house (#3, Kingsdale etc.) so it seems like a good deal. Bus comes, says "Downtown, Broad & High", no number, so we hop on. It drops us of in the fucking Bottoms, for christ's sake. Didn't even get to go downtown, it's all blocked off. COTA, false advertising, freedom's a two way street. The fireworks are pretty cool when you're on a rooftop less than a block away, you don't have to listen to the stupid music--Golden Girls theme? You kiddin'?-- and you aren't surrounded by idiots. But it's true, now I never have to see fireworks again. We took a cab back.
i'm glad you liked the doublehappys-i was real surprised to see it there for five bucks... im kinda glad when i see that people ignore the good stuff, it makes record shopping all the more fun
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