Putting The I in Migas

Kicking Television

With the roommate moving out and the economy crumbling to the sea I took it upon myself to make an economical adult decision and cancel my cable service.  A tech savy friend of mine explain to me how with appletv, an external harddrive and boxee I could access everything I wanted to watch on demand. The new rig would cost me about 300 dollars and with my cable bill right at $100 a month the math meant that I'd have saved 500 dollars by the time I needed to get back on the grid for college football. 

Boxee was the wildcard and essential to success.  AppleTv is a wonderful device, but without adding software you're just giving iTunes prime real estate on your tv set. And Guatama aside, Steve jobs gets paid.  The rub in this is that ATV is a small box designed to be a closed system, so in order to download Boxee you need to remotely enter ATV through another computer. Boxee is linux based so if you run windows you'll need to download Putty just to simulate the shell secure connection of a linux operating system.  If I've lost you in there you're not alone, I have no idea what any of this means, but I'm starting to think with a two hours and access to a message board I could clone a sheep.  With that unsupported confidenced I copy and pasted away on my trusty dell. The next thing I knew my tv was taking me inside the matrix, and then boom, nothing and appletv rebooted. Dancing.  With boxee in place I could run torrents to view big love on demand, watch hulu in high def and run all the music on my harddrive through my stereo*.  My living room was now the future.

By the second day it became obvious that my logic hadn't been this flawed since the time I tried to argue a $200 speeding ticket by explaining to a cop that the school zone signs were blocked by all of the yellow buses.  Even though I'm sure I'll get over having missed Conan's final episode, the Oscars and a State of the Union, I vastly underestimated the value of live television.

Sadly, its the company i miss and not the programming.  Breakfast and Matt Lauer for fifteen minutes is a good start to a world of opportunities, without the moving pictures you're just a 31 year old in polar bear boxers and black socks with a bowl of dry cornflakes and some lactose issues.  The mindless relaxation that comes with finding a Road Rules marathon on a sunday afternoon evaporates by the time you fire up the apple tv and download something to watch.  And the serendiptous feeling of joy when you happen to join Shawshank with forty minutes left is not replaced by infinite, commercial free movies at your finger tips.

Not all is lost though.  If nothing else it's a nice talking point for friends and family.  This past weekend I spent twenty minutes explaining to my father how the hole thing worked.  He couldn't follow but was thoroughly impressed with my ingenuity and wanted to see it in action.  Immediately he asked if he could watch fox news: ever the proud son, I scrolled through the options and selected view all podcasts.  After thoroughly searching that list I returned to the main menu.  From here I used the tiny remote control scroll wheel to type fox news in the search bar.  The tv screen showed that it was buffering, and buffering and the presto, Dad was watching Katie Couric interview Captain Sully in grainy pixilated high definition.

Lest I forget about  the cost savings and ability to access the internet on your tv. For example,  yesterday, after returning from a long day at the office I prepared to watch last Friday's episode of the brilliant friday night lights.  I went to the Hulu option and was greeted by a message saying that in order to maintain the opportunity to make deals in the future, Boxee was observing Hulu's wishes to remove the program from their services.  This was a setback.  Hulu has the most free, quality content online.  However, I could easily watch something that wasn't owned by NBCUniversal or Fox.  So I went to the download site and picked up the entire first season of "Life on Mars", a subpar drama with Christofer Maltasante.  In twenty minutes I was watching my first episode and it had only cost me thirty nine dollars.  Patience is a virtue and I was rewarded for my virtuous efforts two episodes in when I realized that I didn't like "Life on Mars" and I should cross it off my list of a possible Big Love substitute. 

When I cancelled my services from Time Warner the operator was eager to intice me to stay by presenting me with sweet sounding.  She read directly from a script and offered me reduced rates and other spoils.    These 20th century tactics might work on the rest of their backbone-free luddite customers, but I declined. I understand computers, have access to the internet and am blessed with the skill set to overcome the short comings inherent in new technologies.  I am sure she could sense my superiority through the phone (I only wish I had conducted the call on a VOip network) when she posed the question "What are you going to do for TV".  My sarcastic and demeaning "I'll find away to make it through" had a simple yet obvious subtext, "I'm going to spend way more money each month watching crap I could care less about.  Technology, friends, will save us all.

It Doesn't Matter What they Say

Awful about posting of late.  Just awful.  Excuses are futile and lame.  There has been time, there has been motivation, and there have even been ideas.  But there hasn’t been any production.  If you’re feeling betrayed my dear readers, I understand and I don’t begrudge.  I’ve failed you.  I will save the apologies, because I’ll fail you again, it’s the easiest thing to do.  But if you’re still with me, thanks, I’m not sure I’m worthy of your loyalty but I’ll take what I can get in this mixed up existence.

Quick tidbit from on a busy day in the cube.

This past weekend  my parents visited the little city and spoiled me with nights on the town and hardware for homestead repairs.  On the way back from dropping them off at the airport I was left with some surplus lettuce burning a hole in my pocket.  So I figured I’d indulge and consume at Breakaway Records on E 5th street.  

I spend most of my time and record dollars at End of an Earon S 1st.  It’s close to my home and though the staff is as savvy as the most arrogant music snob, they are the nicest most, approachable and non judgmental folks on the planet.  They have a new vinyl selection that parallels Waterloo Records, will special order new releases and also stock a great selection of Used Jazz.  They specialize in the real out there psych and punk that people in the know go crazy over.  And while their more known recordings section is better than adequate, I have been in enough of late that once I get through the new arrivals I know most of the inventory.

On the other hand, I haven’t spent much time in Breakawayso it offers new treasures with each visit. I heard about the place from an ad on Craigslist right after I bought the turntable.  I went the following Friday hoping to walk away with a couple keepers but left with more than forty records for less than sixty dollars.  It was enough to hit the ground running on my collection.  Since then I’ve been back a few times and from what I gather the place is owned by two friends.  They’re young guys, with taste that runs the mainstream to esoteric.  While they don’t stock any new pressings or re-issues they have an amazing selection that they keep fresh and up to date with the records you want but can never find.  The staff yearns for the question is “what’s good that I haven’t heard.”and if asked, they’ll dive into the stacks and pull tons of stuff with detailed reviews, artists influences and commentary on the physical shape of each individual disc.  Almost self consciously they’ll even knock a couple bucks off any record they suggest at the register. 

All of this extraneous commentary is just a means to delay the mountains of work I have and tell you that on Sunday I was greeted with a bunch of great records from the recently arrived pile.  Instantly I had eight or nine classics in my hand.  Legit stuff like Rain Dogs (doesn’t ever stay on the shelves for long), “There’s a Riot going On” early pressing in good shape and even a mono “Blonde on Blonde” (way out of my price range).  But there was one record in the pile that made me wish I was in a less personal store.  I decided that no matter the momentary embarrassment,  at 1.99 it was going home with me.  I edited my other choices to five and stepped to the register with trepidation.  When the clerk got to the Go Go’s “Beauty and the Beat”I said something to the effect of “it’s for my little sister” to which he replied. “Are you kidding me, keep it.  That record is amazing front to back.  I even heard little Stevie mentioned “smidmarks on my heart” as a garage classic the other day.”

This was the reassurance I needed to pass the information on to what’s left of my faithful readership.  I played it that evening for a friend and she confirmed, it plays great top to bottom .  It’s not going to be a mainstay but nor will it become a novelty piece, or regulated to the spot in the bottom of the closet next to my Gilmore Girls complete series.  It’s just a good pop record, and there seem to be more of those from 1981 then there have been in the whole run of the uh ohs.  I don’t suggest you drop everything and go pick it up but If there is a moral here, it’s that its time for me to discount grossly overpriced context.  Hush the inner cynic and get to the heart of the matter.  Little Stevie doesn't doubt his instincts, following his heart got him on the radio, in the E-Street band and on the Sopranos (actually the Sopranos probably took him for his brass balls and his word, which he doesn't break for noone). The other takeaway, of course, being that at my core, I am a twelve year old girl.

I have seen the spectre..

The other thing weighing heavy on my mind these days is the unexpected loss of my roommate.  Sure, you might think her leaving to move in with her fiance on the day we specified six months ago was selfish, and that's your right, but I'm gonna take the high road here.  I harbor no ill will towards her or her fiance and wish them luck. 

I do admit that I'll miss having a roommate.  After having that sense of community and feeling of commraderie it might take some time to get used to being alone.  But I'm sure, like the front bumper from her car I left the embancment and replaced before she got back from her business trip, I'll find something close enough that no one will notice the loss.

The real tragedy though and my immediate concern is losing premium cable, and to really pour sand in the vasaline,  right in the heart of a new line of shows.  Shared utilities really do allow for a taste of la dulce vida. And the programming on premium cable just so choice compared to network offerings (aside from the 11 hours of the today show every morning). Its like flying first class for the price of coach.  Big Love, Weeds, Californication, (the l word), Real Sports and HdNet, I feel like I was just getting to know them.  And Spectacle, oh my lord, in the rush to cancel I hadn't even though of Spectacle...only now is it starting to sink in.

Elvis Costello's encyclopedic knowledge of Rock and Roll and bold yet distinguished fashion sense are enough to make the show a keeper.  Add his slightly Farleyesque interview style, where he  just meanders along about a pivitol time in the persons career and then gets so excited in the moment and its personal implications that he doesn't ask a question, and you start to feel some of my pain. 

But its the songs, the songs are the real reason I'm thinking of switching to a strict diet of Ramen noodles is the songs, particularly the show openers.  All have been great, but the first one, Border Song, was my favorite.  A hand on the piano opens and Elvis Costello's starts singing with some light strumming.  The band slowly starts to join in and once they're all in the camera pans back to the piano and reveals Alan Touissant; who gives a pop staples' style vocal to the second verse.  And just when you think all the surprises are done they punch through on the second round of "Holy Moses' " and now suddenly you're off the couch, in the choir, singing a long to a song you didn't even know you knew.  Its a great cover, and a great TV moment. 

And now its gone and I'm here. Alone. With an average youtube version

He's not heavy

I've been at a loss to write of late and I apologize-  Just a quick little one before I get back to scratching these two nickels together.

I was reminded of two things by this announcement.  First that no matter how dire things may seem out there, there still good things around the bend.  But more importantly, I was reminded that my older brother(now a reader of the migas family) was, and always will be, infinately cooler than I am.  There was a moment in 1986 or early 1987 when that wasn't the case, we were both in Sam Goody, each with enough money to buy a tape.  I chose License to Ill, he chose Slippery when Wet. When we got home I put my new purchase into the player and quickly gathered two things.  First The MtV album listing was correct, the record was in fact License to Ill not License to Kill and second, not every song was "Fight for your Right".  My brother heard something else entirerly.  He immediately offered a trade, I immediately accepted. My fleeting moment past with one bad decision in a lifetime of many.

While License to Ill introduced my brother, the mainstream and myself to the Beastie's as hard partying, good time white rappers,  Paul's Boutique introduced them as innovators and was their foundation for a an image and sound that shaped both music and American popular culture in the 90's.   PB didn't sell  as well as some of  their other offerings and only had one single touch the charts, but it was easily their best record and right up there with the great recordings of the 20th century.  The album samples from every style and era yet stays unified throughout.  Shake your Rump starts the record as a slow jam and they progress two steps forward and one back through funk, rock and even country and bluegrass. The combination of ridiculous, one upping, carefree if not hedonistic lyrics are as funny and entertaining as its production is serious and carefully planned.   People a lot more elequent and knowledgeble then me have written and said plenty about its sound and cultural importance.  Chuck D admitted that when the record came out, all the established rappers on the west coast envied the white kids from Brooklyn for having the best sound.  Brother Bob liked License to Ill (who doesn't?) but he got an inkling for what the west coast folks knew when he heard the opening porn lick in "Hey Ladies" and was fully on to it by the time the disco scene started in video.  I probably listened to the album all the way through for the first time ten or twelve years later. 

Don't take my advice, I'm going to write a piece early next week on a guy named Neil Young, instead take Bob's. Follow the link above, here it is again, incase you forgot, the website they built is pretty amazing.  If you're severance package is still flush get that 124 collectors addition. Or just stream it for free while play Mike D in the ping pong simulator for 5 or 16 hours. 

What Are Their Names?

In 1971 David Crosby released "If I could Only Remember my Name".  While its billed as a solo record, all of the players on the recording are household names.  CSNY are all there sans Stills, as are Garcia, Lesh, Bill Kruetzman and Mickey Hart from the Good Old GD.  Jorma, Grace Slick, Jack Cassidy, and Paul Kanter from Jefferson Airplane join in and her highness, Joni Mitchell, provides her services also as do countless other dirty hippies living Northern California at the time.

In the midst of all this talent, Garcia shines throughout.  This was a heady time for the Fat man and arguably a career apex.  1970 had the Dead releasing their two finest albums and playing some 142 live dates.  Garcia also found the time to all but produce CSNs "Deja Vu" and lay down the most memorable pedal steel performance of all time (Teach Your Children).  While his guitar playing was fully developed his heroin addiction was not, and though plenty of the live pre china-white material was captured by industrious tapers, there isn't enough strong studio work on tape from this time period.

The long intro to "What are Their Names" is the high point of Garcia's effort.  It comes in with a dreamy, out of the ether Garcia/Lesh interplay that typified "Weather Report Suite" or "Wharf Rat" intros.  When the vocals finally begin Garcia finishes floating and starts driving with conscious, pointed leads while Lesh lays down a backbone that firmly establish who is controlling the direction.  Garcia's guitar  provides vintage Jerry fills throughout Tamalpais High (At Around 3 O’clock). These delicate, ambient licks are as notable for the spaces he finds to not play as the instantly recognizable flourishes he does play. His slightly spacey pedal steel in "Laughing" offer the song perfect accents, but his confident solo sends notice to Jorma, letting the guitarist know that Garcia should probably be playing the lead piece as well.

Aside from Garcia's work, there is something for everyone here.  The epic "Cowboy Movie" gives Crosby's take on the demise of CSNY below a raunchy blues riff.  The slightly precious "Laughing" serves a rebuttle to George Harrison's new found leader and the last two tracks sound like they could be on the next Fleet Foxes release.  The record is not completely void of the hippy aesthietc, but the artists never lose themselves in butterfly chasing, excessive noodling or quests for the sound of desert air.  The album as a whole shines more as a chronicle of the early 1970's, organic, sunny California sound with a taste of The Band then it does as a relic of late 60's indulgences.

It wasn't until 2005 that Rhino finally released If I Only Could Remember My Name on cd and it had evaded my consciousness until only a few weeks back..  It's been a welcome addition since, but it's a classic that belongs in case logic books (or harddrives) stashed in the cinderblock dorm rooms of bright but lazy kids clad in fleece, looking for answers at the bottom of bubblers and marveling over  girls in philosophy 101.

Note:  If i continue to punish you with music reviews, specifically old releases, I will at least add an MP3 player- look for it in the coming days.