jukeboxgraduate.com

my pal joel on marah in LA

My dear friend, the sublimely talented (and girls, he's single) Joel R. Graves went to see Marah the other night in LA. (It's the last paragraph.)

Excerpt:
I went to see Marah (from Philly,... oh Philly) the other night. They really made me smile. It was so great to see a New Enlgand band that was just up there to fucking RAWK. They were loving being on stage, they were rawking without any self-conscious baggage bullshit, and they looked like they would take a rusty-blade stab wound for one-another. Fuckin' A. It reminded me about everything I love about music and it reminded me how fucking fun it is to rawk.

Check out his band while you're on his Myspace page.

P.S. He also owns a very cool recording studio. And as he will tell you, it is partially my fault that he does.

REASON 4, 386 THE GRAMMYS SUCK A**

While this was one part astonishingly good news (backed with one part 'please let it not be an embarassment for him), this below gives one pause:

Ron Roecker, a spokesman for the Recording Academy, wouldn't confirm that the reunion is on the Grammy-night schedule, which already includes an all-star tribute to Sly and the Family Stone. The tribute -- featuring John Legend, Maroon 5, will.i.am of the Black Eyed Peas and Steven Tyler of Aerosmith, among others

THIS IS THE BEST YOU COULD COME UP WITH FOR A TRIBUTE TO SLY STONE, MUCH LESS SLY STONE'S COMEBACK??! You are simply NOT trying hard enough. Maroon 5? WTF??!

33 1/3 results are in

The results are in, and no I did not make it (and yes, more on that after the jump). But, looking at who made the cut, the august company there makes me feel a little better about the rejection. The submission list was long and broad, too.

My choice?

Black Love by the Afghan Whigs.

My original vision was for something like The River or Quadrophenia, but I tried writing a proposal for the former and it turned out to be a short story and not a book, and the latter -- well, my junior year thesis in high school was about Quadrophenia and when I went back over it, I realized I had pretty much said everything I would have wanted to say about it, plus it wasn't an album I wanted to live with for a year.

I fell into Black Love when New Orleans flooded (even though it doesn't specifically say it takes place there, in my mind's eye, it always certainly could have) and I thought about the comment a writer-friend had made about the series, about how your choice should be an album you not only always come back to, but an album that, in effect, has never left you, and that changes like a chameleon as the years go by.

Thus, Black Love.

And of course, because I fucking love that record and think it is one of the most underrated records of all time.

I had thought about posting the proposal but it was a specific assignment and, well, who knows what the future might bring. But if you're a writer who didn't (or did) make the cut, or who thought about submitting but didn't, and you want to take a look, drop me a line.

iTunes Signature Maker

DO THIS:

iTunes Signature Maker.

I am fascinated. Enchanted. Delighted. And after the jump I will share what is in mine (I would share the file but it's almost 12mb and that would choke my server in about an hour). I guarantee that, if you know me, once you see my list you will run to do yours (okay, providing you are part of iPod Nation).

If you know me -- and even if you don't, even if you just read me -- this should strike you as spot on in a scary way. And I so love the denoument of those final two selections:

All Because Of You
U2
How To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb

The Have Nots
X
Under The Big Black Sun

Brown Sugar
The Rolling Stones
Sticky Fingers

Differing Touch
Marah
Mararities (Disc 1)

Rock and Roll Motherfucker
The D4
6Twenty

Wind Out (With Friends)
R.E.M.
Reckoning - bonus

Know Your Rights
The Clash
Combat Rock

Thru And Thru
The Rolling Stones
Voodoo Lounge

Can't Hardly Wait
The Replacements
Pleased To Meet Me

Sonic Reducer
Pearl Jam
Christmas Singles

I'm Waiting For The Man
The Velvet Underground
Peel Slowly And See

All The Way From Memphis
Ian Hunter
The Collection

Message In A Bottle
The Police
Regatta de Blanc

Beautiful Day
U2
All That You Can't Leave Behind

Good Livin'
Supersuckers
Must've Been Live

Hot House
X
More Fun In The New World (Remastered & Expanded)

Cite Soleil
Afghan Whigs
1965

Martin Eden
Twilight Singers
Blackberry Belle

War On War
Wilco
Yankee Hotel Foxtrot

There's A Black Horse
John Doe
Forever Hasn't Happened Yet

Since You're In Love
Jesse Malin
The Heat

Lady Godiva's Operation
The Velvet Underground
White Light White Heat

Drive, She Said
Stan Ridgway

Living Proof (live on SNL)
Bruce Springsteen

Does This Bus Stop At 82nd Street?
Bruce Springsteen
Tracks (Disc 1)

It's Only Money, Tyrone
Marah
Kids in Philly

5:15
The Who
Quadrophenia (Disc 2)

Six Days On The Road
The Flying Burrito Bros
Sin City - The Very Best Of The Flying Burrito Bros

Lua
Bright Eyes
I'm Wide Awake It's Morning

Blame, Etc
Afghan Whigs

I've Been Riding With The Ghost
Songs:Ohia
The Magnolia Electric Co

I Don't Care
The Ramones
All The Stuff (And More)

You Got It
Mudhoney
March To Fuzz (Disc 1)

Desire
U2
The Best Of 1980-1990

School's Out
Alice Cooper
Dazed And Confused

Dancing With The Women At The Bar
Whiskeytown
Strangers Almanac

How Soon Is Now (Smiths Cover)
Afghan Whigs

Left Of The Dial
The Replacements
Tim

Ramblin' Rose
MC5
Best Of The MC5

If There's Hell Below (We're All Going To Go)
Afghan Whigs
Live At The Howlin' Wolf

Time Code
Bright Eyes
Digital Ash in a Digital Urn

Goo Goo Muck
The Cramps
Psychedelic Jungle

Raw Power
Iggy & The Stooges
Raw Power

Mystery Train
Elvis Presley
SUN Records Greatest Hits

Sittin' Pretty
The Datsuns
The Datsuns

Sweet Virginia
The Rolling Stones
Exile On Main Street

Rudie Can't Fail
The Clash
London Calling

I Believe In Miracles
Eddie Vedder & Zeke

1969
The Stooges
The Stooges

See No Evil
Television
Marquee Moon

Downbound Train
Bruce Springsteen
Born in the U.S.A.

Conjure Me
Afghan Whigs
Congregation

Life Begins At The Hop
XTC

So You Want To Be (A Rock 'n' Roll Star)
The Patti Smith Group
Wave

Screen
Brad
Shame

Stardog Champion
Mother Love Bone
Apple

Gates Of Eden
Bob Dylan
Bringing It All Back Home

None But The Brave
Bruce Springsteen
Essential Disc 3

I'm So Lonesome
Grandpaboy
Dead Man Shake

The Fever
Bruce Springsteen
18 Tracks

Promised Land (live)
Sleater-Kinney

Trash, Trampoline And The Party Girl
U2
B-Sides 1980-1990

Black, Red, Yellow
Pearl Jam
Hail, Hail Single

Teen Age Riot
Sonic Youth
Daydream Nation

America
Simon & Garfunkel
Almost Famous

Jumpin' Jack Flash
The Rolling Stones
Forty Licks (Disc 1)

Christmas Day
Bruce Springsteen And Friends
12/7/03 - Disc 1 - Holiday Show - Asbury Park NJ

Birth Ritual
Soundgarden
Singles

Stuck Inside Of Mobile With the Memphis Blues Again
Bob Dylan
Blonde On Blonde

Acrobat
U2
Achtung Baby

Lilac Wine
Jeff Buckley
Grace

Brother Woodrow / Closing Prayer
Afghan Whigs
Gentlemen

Second Guessing
R.E.M.
Reckoning

Come On, Come On
Cheap Trick
In Color (Remastered)

Complete Control
The Clash
The Essential Clash (Disc 1)

Watching the Detectives
Elvis Costello
My Aim Is True

Dear Doctor
The Rolling Stones
Beggars Banquet [SACD Hybrid, Remastered 2002]

I'm The Ocean
Neil Young
Mirrorball

Up In Heaven (Not Only Here)
The Clash
Sandinista!

I Don't Want To Go Home
Southside Johnny & The Asbury Jukes
The Best Of Southside Johnny And The Asbury Jukes

East
Marah
20.000 Streets Under The Sky

Spirit In The Night
Bruce Springsteen
Greetings From Asbury Park, N.J.

Wouldn't It Be Nice (Stereo Mix)
The Beach Boys
Pet Sounds

ELO Kiddies
Cheap Trick
Cheap Trick (Remaster)

This Time It's For Real
Bruce Springsteen And Friends
12/7/03 - Disc 2 - Holiday Show - Asbury Park NJ

Just A Touch
R.E.M.
Life's Rich Pageant

Twist And Shout
Backbeat
Backbeat

The Heavyweights
Marah
Mararities (Disc 2)

Urban Guerilla
Mudhoney

Walk Unafraid
R.E.M.
Up

Nervous Breakdown
Ryan Adams

New York New york
The Dictators
Fuck 'Em If They Can't Take A Joke

Hwy 5
The John Doe Thing
Free The West Memphis 3

Forever For You
John Doe
Dim Stars, Bright Sky

Louie Louie - live 78
Bruce Springsteen
Total Darkness

Crime Scene Part 1
The Afghan Whigs
Black Love

Now do yours and come back and talk about it.

don't forget the motor city

A couple of weeks ago I was talking with the boyfriend about various rock and roll landmarks, and I was struck that, although we had just been in Detroit (2004, Vote For Change tour), we didn't go past Hitsville USA. (To be fair, we arrived at 3 a.m., spent the next day sitting in a General Admission line inside Cobo Arena, and then breezed out of town as soon as the show ended.)

But the truth is that there was no end of Detroit rock and roll landmarks I would have liked to have seen. I was fascinated by the little I saw of Detroit, inbetween the hotel and the arena. How much faded glory and magnificence the city held. How much rock and roll history was there. What we as a society value and want to preserve and how we never seem to fucking learn--both the Cavern Club and Stax had to be torn down and made into parking lots before they would rise later as tourist attractions, preserving a legacy and bringing jobs and tourist dollars.

So it broke my heart just a little to read this story on dETROITfUNK about the abandoned Motown Office Building. (There's also a story on NPR about the building and its demolition, as it is torn down just in time to create -- you guessed it -- a parking lot for the Super Bowl.

A Super Bowl at which the Rolling Stones will appear.

*pause to consider irony of situation*

Check out the DetroitFunk blog for more history on the Motor City, including scans of paperwork -- like a bank book for a young Stevie Wonder -- recovered from the rubble.

young neil on writing

From Rolling Stone #992, interview by Alec Wilkinson (go buy it, this interview is worth it):

Then he turned the book over and showed me the lyrics, written in pen, with only a word here and there crossed out, and with the verses themselves not usually running below the top half of the page. "I might have two lines and use only one version of them," he said. "Or a line or two not used. If you look, sometimes it's three, four, one, two in terms of the order of verses, but usually it's just as it came. It's just a matter of where did I tap into it, what part of it. If I don't question it, it comes together. If I question it, it can take months."

I said something about how unusual it is to be able to write so fluently. Other writers don't usually describe it, I said.

"Maybe they don't let themselves," Young said. "Maybe they let too many other things get in the way."

He closed the book. "When you start writing," he said, "don't let other things bother you. Just keep going. It doesn't take long. It isn't long to be absent."

Just leaves me awe-struck.

New Backstreets out

Backstreets #83/84 is FINALLY out, praise the deities.

Inside from me: an interview with Alan Vega from Suicide, a sidebar with Jesse Malin, and something I thought was just *funny* -- I interview the wizarding group Harry & The Potters, because "Harry" is an enormous Springsteen fan. (Disclaimer: at the time I suggested this story to my editor, the most recent Harry Potter was just about to come out and so it was, actually, timely. Now it just looks stupid, I realize this. But it was hardly intended to be the highest of high art.)

the nature of truth

Chasing Ray: The Nature of Truth

"There are things you need to do as a writer, skills you have to acquire, a craft you need to develop. I have no interest however in becoming a liar. I wrote a story, a good story, a story about how it was for me once, how it was, mostly. My story is fiction."

Just beautiful.

Wilson Pickett

I could write something about this, but there is no way I would do it as well as Funky16Corners did.

He was on The List and I never got around to seeing him. We were just talking in December about how he was on the list.

I am looking forward to seeing any band that matters throw a Pickett cover into their set over the next few months.

commenting is fixed

When I upgraded to the new blog software, I was sure I had tested the commenting feature, but apparently I did not, because I just realized that no one has been able to comment! (Thanks, Monica.) Typekey is turned off until I figure out how to implement it and you should be able to comments safely again (but fer the love o' Pete, please let me know if you cannot!)

Yet more pointless comments about Frey and LeRoy

...with some Greil Marcus thrown in.

I have been thinking about this, a lot, partly because if you are a writer you have no choice; if you and read writing/publishing blogs, the subject is unavoidable; and, frankly, if you breathe air in the U.S. right now, it is everywhere. I didn't watch Frey on Larry King last night; I missed the 9pm showing, and caught highlights later on Anderson Cooper, where Frey's attitude was so - unabashed - that I realized that They have decided to let him get away with it, because he was still an addict and blah blah blah blah blah.

That was when I went on Amazon and put my copy of A Million Little Pieces (hardback, no Oprah's Book Club here) up for sale. It took all of 90 minutes before someone bought it.

To be fair, I stumbled onto that book accidentally, not through the hype or the hoopla around its original release. I heard or read something that made me go seek it out and it helped me, greatly, gain some much needed insight into a situation I was tangled up in. Of course I have to wonder how valid my conclusions were, but it doesn't matter much any more. I still hung onto the book for that reason, but last night I was just pissed off and figured I might as well profit from the situation.

I am intrigued by reports that the original, fictionalized manuscript was rejected by the publisher and Frey allegedly took out the "fictional" bits. (When I went to buy the book at a mom & pop bookstore, I didn't know what it was called or who wrote it, so I had to describe the plot as I knew it, and the clerk laughed and said, "We have it in both places: fiction and non-fiction.") I think I would have had more sympathy if he had said, "Listen, I wanted a fucking book deal and so I was going to do whatever they wanted me to do and write whatever book they wanted me to write." I do, however, seriously believe that his publisher knew exactly what was up. I just think they never thought it would matter *that much*.

So the question is, of course, would it still be a good book if people bought it as fiction? Would it be as compelling? Would it have become what seems to be a virtual cult of James Frey (stories of parole officers handing the book to clients, etc.)? The answer should be: if the writing and the story made you believe it then YES. I am not sure if I would have been as moved by it if I didn't believe it to be someone's life story, simply because of where I was at the time and why I was reading that book. I excused the unconventional style for that reason, too. And for the many people who were reading, maybe because they know someone who is an addict or is in recovery, they were looking for some truth. So in that situation: yes, it matters.

But for the most part, the general audience, the people watching Oprah and reading along (and honestly, I say, more power to her and thank you for going back to living writers again, Steinbeck really does not need your help). The entire Frey fray boils down the fact that what matters to most people is:

Is it factually true? Did it really happen?

So the rock and roll tangent finally comes in here. As usual, when this debate about truth and fiction arises, I think of Greil Marcus and that great section in the Randy Newman piece in Mystery Train:

"The imagination has fallen upon sorry days in post-Beatle rock n' roll. Audiences are no longer used to the idea that someone might make something up, create a persona and act it out, the way Chuck Berry and Bob Dylan used to do. Audiences take everything literally, partly because sensitive personal confession, "honesty," and one-to-one communication between the singer and whoever is listening is so attractive and reassuring in times when pop culture and politics have lost their grander mythic dimensions, when there are no artists and no politics to create community, and every fan is thrown back on himself."

How many times has complete and utter crap as songwriting been excused or promoted simply because "You don't understand, this really happened to him!" And how many times have you seen fans defiant and proud that they had debunked the line in Song X because "that could not have happened to him, he was in California at the time!"

There is an alarming tendency of fans to use "true" as a barometer or substitute for "good". Rarely do I see anyone ever stopping to consider that it was a song, that it was a story, that it doesn't have to be true, that it doesn't have to be linear, that it didn't have to happen to him personally to be a good story or a good song, and if it didn't actually ever happen to him, if he wasn't a drug addict he could still write a song about being on drugs, or that a married man can write a song about infidelity without actually being unfaithful, or can write about dog sledding in Alaska without ever having been there. It's not just the defense of truth as a superlative, it's the exaggerated betrayal portrayed when a song is "debunked" as not being "real" because "that never really happened" or "it happened 10 years ago, and to someone else!"

I find a lot of discussion when an artist writes something, never alleging it to be autobiographical or factual, and fans "discover" that it isn't. But I never find anyone dissecting the songs written by the sensitive, I-write-from-experience types to analyze if that is all correct and true and perfect. The Smoking Gun isn't looking at that. (Well, yet anyway. But didn't Jewel go on Oprah already?)

Back to the literary world: even in my own experience, when people read my manuscript, the first question I would get is: "Did that really happen?" and "Is it true?" Before anyone had ever read the manuscript, I had determined that I would never ever go through line by line and tell people what was a creation in my own mind and what might have been based on factual events, because at the end of the day, THAT'S WHY IT'S CALLED FICTION. But during my process of obtaining literary representation, I received an impassioned note from one agent who said they loved the work but wanted to call me on not being willing to "claim" it and sell it as memoir.

Tempting, isn't it? Not to me, because I *like* writing fiction. I like making things up. I like inventing worlds and people and places. Obviously, the fodder comes from real life, but the glorious thing about writing fiction is that it's a story! Continuity and plausibility aside, IT DOESN'T HAVE TO BE TRUE, it doesn't have to happen the way it did in real life (if it happened at all).

But, as hard as it is to get representation and get published (and I will confess being very reassured that 17 publishers passed on A Million Little Pieces before it found a home), I could see a situation where, if a story was mostly true, or grew out of a personal experience, it might just be very tempting to say, "Sure, it all happened to me, just like it says," because then there's no doubt about How To Sell it. Your hook is built in. (And as any writer knows, the feedback of "We loved it, but we don't know how we'd sell it" is quite possibly the most infuriating.)

As to l'affaire JT LeRoy: to be honest, I was not emotionally engaged in those books so I had less interest -- except that a dear friend of mine was one of the countless many hoodwinked by this entire mishegoss. They were a friend of The Voice On The Telephone, they took me to the "Harold's End" book release party where we were introduced to The Guy In The Hat and The Glasses, and I am more upset that they took advantage of this individual's generous nature than anything else. I know they are in good company but still. But, again, it was more attractive if it was the truth and less so if it was just a good story. At least I was more interested in the writing in the LeRoy books. I felt there was a beauty and a fragility there. The fraud and the deception, however, is far-reaching and insidious. As I said to some writer-friends, " It is sad and crazy and unbelievable and throws everyone off kilter, just a bit, in terms of belief and humanity and generosity of spirit."

SPOT THE OXYMORON

"a post-holiday indie rock market blue-balled by a disappointing Strokes album"

(from a Pitchfork review on an album that is irrelevant to this quandry)

marah on tour

It is no secret to anyone who reads this blog that I am somewhat enamored of this band. They are going on tour starting Thursday, east to west, through the south and up to the northwest, so IF YOU HAVE NOT SEEN THEM PLAY LIVE YOU NEED TO GO NOW.

If you go and you hate it I will pay for your ticket. There.

Tour dates are here.
Read a recent CNN article here.
Read my profile of them here.

BUT GO TO THE F'IN SHOW, PLEASE.

[Seattle denizens: I will be at the Croc show on Feb. 2. I know, you're going to see Tweedy at the Moore that night. Marah aren't going on until 11. Walk down Second Ave. and find me in the back bar before the show!]

the muscle shoals sound

Given that last night I started pruning the iPod to take off things I am not sure I need to have with me 24/7 (even if I once did feel that way about it) (and this is a whole other train of thought that should be written about at some other time) right about the time I was desperately needing to hear Otis Redding and realizing I have a shamefully small amount of Otis Redding on my iPod, and that while it is all well and good that I consider Sam Cooke Live At The Harlem Square Club the greatest live album of all time and therefore it should be on the iPod, there is zero excuse for not having a far deeper representation of Mr. Cooke's repertoire...this link (to a blog whose existence I was previously unaware of, but now delightfully so) is welcome and deserving of large amounts of traffic.

Espec. given the fact that I am well aware things are quiet around here, but jg.com is not supposed to be a "blog" per se, just using the blogging software to have my writing online, I sort of apologize for the lack of updates but not really. Kind of stuck in the fictional world right now. And writing my EMP proposal. But more anon, I swear.

happy new year at the poetry marathon

There is something calming and grounding about sitting for three hours or more and listening to poetry on New Year's Day... I try to last longer than that but hunger or my rear end usually starts to complain. (A better strategy, and one I will endeavor to apply next year, would be to arrive earlier in the afternoon, listen for an hour or two, go out for a break, and then come back by 6:30 or 7 for the prime time readings. I will also bring a stadium cushion.)

The usual suspects were right on target: John S. Hall with a new sing-a-long ditty entitled "American Torturer"; Lenny Kaye with unpublished liner notes for a now cancelled "Save CBGB" benefit album; John Giorno slotted just in time when we were all about to doze off, always high-energy and beautiful and wry; Steve Earle was there this year (was he there last year? Don't remember) reading from a work-in-progress, a play about New Orleans; Taylor Mead unforgettable as always.

My own personal favorites this year: Avra Koufmann talking about New Yorkers, "those of us born here or born to come here"; Willie Perdomo quoting KRS-One and my notes fail me here; Kimiko Hahn with poems inspired by the NY Times science section; and the list goes on. And on. And on. The photo of the sanctuary above features Jim Carroll at the podium, looking so much better than last year (although last year's reading was hysterical and I can still quote it: "Don't forget the fucking cookies.")

On principle, I always wait at least 30 minutes after Patti Smith reads (because there is always a stampede out the door once that happens), but yesterday I was too hungry and hung over to care. I was glad she sang "Gandhi," just herself on acoustic guitar, glowing as always, instead of reading something new, because my big fear was that I was so worn out I wouldn't have been able to absorb it.

This event is a treasure and one of the best things about living in New York.