Quickly now- let's have another brief blast from the most recent mix, which includes the song below.
Turns out this was in Kill Bill: do not recall.
I of course did not pinch my version from some Quentin Tarantino-sanctioned mix. I do the sanctioning around here, thanks. Instead, I found this song by what you might call the "lost-wax casting method". That is the "method" whereby one seeks records, sees records, and gets divinely inspired to snap some particular one up. In this case, inspiration struck because of this fairly intriguing record cover.
Will it be Canticles for Catholics? (Santa = Saint) Cha-Cha, or (Two-to-) Tango? Spanish Goth for Goya fans? (check the "Castlevania" style font) Erotic fiction en Espagnol?
More apt pictures, here:
I think this song may have launched Ruth and I into a long little game: in which songs does the singer name herself/himself? (An example: in "What My Woman Can't Do Can't Be Done" by Jerry Lee Lewis, he says, "If ever there's been a baby/ Jerry Lee has found him one")
No hip-hop obviously -that wouldn't be a challenging game- unless maybe you had to rap the line yourself, and actually do a decent job of it.
And since you are listening to the above song already, you probably can see the related event in that song. In probably the only lyrical derivation from the Animals' track (originally written for Nina Simone- who knew?), a line is (for no clear reason) added: "Oh, Esmeralda". I imagine that is who he does not wish to be misunderstood by? Anyhow, since he says "Esmeralda", and the band's name is "Santa Esmeralda", you know, it got me thinking.
Any other examples of singers naming themselves in lyrics; or saying their own band name in the lyrics? I won't say the ones we've already thought of- that way you can play the game too. In the comments of course.
(you can still download the mix- a summery, disco-filled and disco-infused little scorcher, here- of course, it includes this song. Of Course!)
Songs like the following are why i have grown steadily more interested in old country and western music of late. A real story in the lyrics (not just words about some things that merely happened); and sad beautiful. Like watching a big ship, slowly sinking into the sea, in a film. (not like "Titanic", you dope)
There are infinite good versions of this song. Like much C 'n' W music, it's based on songs that are so old, nobody can tell just who "originally" wrote them. Even professors don't know, and dude trust me, professors KNOW IT ALL. Marty Robbins has my favorite version- that's why it's playing now- but I just copped another version by Elton Britt with the Zeke Manners' Band. The song-writing credits on the Britt record say "Manners", which got me wondering if ol' Zeke originally wrote the song; but no. Must've just arranged it or sumtin. Now this song tugs on the old heartstrings more nearly every time I hear it. I SING this song, do you see? You realize what it takes to get me singing, out LOUD?? A pretty special song, that's what it takes (or a fair bit of coffee).
I'd wager that this song is more sad and touching than even Bruce Springsteen's "Streets of Philadelphia", no mean feat.
Recall that I posted (way yonder) re: a band called Salem, and their version of "S of P"? Well, their album is coming out late summer, very exciting. I'm even going to PURCHASE it. You can download a track of theirs here, at XLR8R.com. See how I draw all this together? I'm a very special man, aren't I?
Speaking of samples (as I did last time), here is a gem of a song I've been sitting on for a minute. In a hot HOT batch of records I snatched up the other day, I procured a few Isley Brothers albums. Of which there are roughly a million, by the way. In fact, Wiki tells me they had 20 albums between 1969 and 2006: excuse me, that's 20 albums that reached the Top 10, in 35-ish years. I guess when you have like 7 guys in the band, there are more songs getting written? (7/35=5; 5x20=100; 100/10= 10; 10/10 = perfect: do the math, it adds up)
Who knows- the point is, that these Brothers From The Same Mother got sampled- and that produces another song, A Brother From ANOTHER Mother, as it were.
And here is the song built around the former- I'm pretty sure we all love this song.
Big Poppa, Notorious B.I.G.
Also, I was trying to find a good picture of sample-sized-spoons, and I found this instead. A marrow- that's bone marrow, you understand?- spoon. A Narrow Marrow Spoon, that.
Interesting. I bet Biggie would be crushing on some marrow if he weren't dead. Sigh.... His loss, and ours.
On Facebook, some degenerates who I know have added an app that tells you your ten most-used words. Accurately, a friend described El Jefe's as resembling an angry haiku. Now, I - and you too; hell, all of us - would love to know what my words are. But I refuse to let FB all up in my Face by adding stuff.
Instead, I present the following accidental poems. Stochastic or Tyche-type Poesy. These are quotes that begin and end the passages that I wanted my students to read. I didn't write them out so that they would make rad short bits; BUT THEY DID because this is exactly the kind of RAnDom (=rad+random, see?) stuff that intrudes into my life.
‘There I had already learned…message was “I don’t care”.’ ‘This notion of the imaginary…not being part of American reality.’ ‘What if, then, there is no ‘normal role’?...or not in the expected way.’ 'Is that why so many examples…take the risk and have a position.’ 'In combination with psychoanalysis…threatening to explode.’
‘With the logic of Real-as-impossible…between the object and das Ding.’ ‘Your analysis of contemporary…void filled by appearances.’ ‘By the late 1980s profound…there is no way out for them.’ ‘In your work you have…even more radical and intrusive.’
‘the problematic of Franz Fanon…potentially redemptive disciplinary drive.’ ‘And in contemporary…racist, chauvinist or whatever.’ ‘And against this abstract machine…the eyes of its own people.’ ‘This idea of de facto closure…justifies absolute ruthlessness.’ ‘On the other hand…specific obscene enjoyment.’
I taught Slavoj Zizek for my last weeks of class. It seemed to go well. Partly because I soft-pedaled some of the more difficult ideas. Partly because I taught Zizek as if he were Freud. Concepts like the Oedipus complex (You want to f**k your Mother! You will kill, and then supplant, your father! Stop thinking those asterisks look like buttholes, you pervert!) are not that hard to grasp, although they may be a little hard to swallow.
Yes, I'm deferring grading, and my super-ego is raging about it. But you can take a little break with me. Watch the YouTube video below. It is Slavoj Zizek, talking about toilets and pubic hair, and how they both reinforce (or at least symbolize) ideological constraints. No, honestly, that's what he says.
and yes, I am teaching him, and themes just like these, in my class. Right now -yesterday, tomorrow, which added together are today- in my introduction to philosophy class. I got the book for free too: B O O M . I said for a while too that I must be Zizek's secret (whoops, typed "sextet": Freudian Slip!) love child. Because we are both hyper. I also declared, since he has a bit of a tic where he touches his nose all the time, that he had sucessfully passed through oral, anal, AND phallic stages. Where does that put him?
Or, NarciCHRIStic RevelAWESOMEs. Take your pick.
In a former post, I revealed to you my divinity. (It was of world-historical import. But trans-historical, too.)
As was said about me in Oscar Wilde's 'Salome', "When he cometh the solitary places shall be glad. They shall blossom like the rose. The eyes of the blind shall see the day, and the ears of the deaf shall be opened. The sucking child shall put his hand upon the dragon's lair, he shall lead the lions by their manes."
Here are some of the first fruits of my new rule over man and beast.
Touched by the Hand of God>> New Order>> Salvation Original Sdtk
Y.T.T.E. (Yield to Total Elation)>> Matmos>> The Civil War
My Week Beats Your Year>> Telefon Tel Aviv
U Don't Know Me>> Armand Van Helden
Bunk Trunk Skunk>> Be Your Own Pet>> Be Your Own Pet
Time of the Season (Zombies cover)>> Snowden
JUSTIFICATION of Tracklist:
So this mix came out of the attempt to put together a series of songs having to do with revelations, prophets, etc. But as a ran through some CDs, I also started thinking about the monumental narcissism of proclaiming myself as the Second (although Secular) Coming.
I have no problem with my monumental narcissism; it's just something I noticed.
So out of that mix (coming later) came this series of songs, which combines my posturing and my awesome nature.
The Stone Roses are British, and British rock bands often have God-complexes. Remember Oasis, and how they claimed to be as big as the Beatles? And remember how the Beatles said they were bigger than Jesus?
My Divinity has been geometrically demonstrated, according to Spinoza's mos gemetricos. Turns out the damn thing's a Pentagon! Who'd've thunk it?
There's nothing more than this [this=me].
And even if there IS something more than me, it ain't here yet, is it? So you'll have to wait, then, until the real thing comes along.
With that clear, irrefutable reasoning just then- didn't it just blow your mind?
Either that, or it only makes sense to me. Maybe I'm a little 'touched'...
TOUCHED BY THE HAND OF GOD more like it! (!zing!)
Plus, I went to RUBA this weekend -Before Sunday!- then back to mine. Proof positive that "My Week Beats Your Year".
And if I'm not JC Jr., then certainly Armand Van Helden is. That guy... I mean that guy, he invented speed garage, made guitars work in house music (mixed blessings, that), etc. He made a Tori Amos song cool- if that's not magical power, then what is?
We'll just close out this justification with some lyrics from the final song by the Zombies
(but our version is a cover by Atlanta's Snowden):
"What's your name?
Who's your daddy?
Is he rich like me?
Has he taken
Any time
To show you what you need to live?
Tell it to me slowly
Tell you what?
I really want to know..."
(But this post isn't about Jerry Lee- that will be another post- his older records are Mellow, Christian, and Country. I've got a pair, and I'll toss up some of that surprisingly great stuff. Later, later: patience Friends!)
The other day I was picking through some records, and I came across a slab of vinyl without any cover. It was by The Three Degrees: "Who are they?": I'd never heard of them. But at the Second Mile Thrift, records are just a quarter, so you take a Second look at things, even if (especially if?) they appear innocuous at first glance.
I saw a few song titles that seemed fun. One was "Dirty Ol' Man". Here's a Youtube of a live performance of that song, on Japanese television (!!!!):
Watch the video: it has Tennis! Coronations! A Mallet! "You're a Dirty Ol' Man; You can't keep your hands to yourself! Yeah! You're a Dirty Ol' Man; Go mess around with somebody else!"
When the sleeve is missing, you don't have as many clues to go by. No pictures, no listing of who might have produced it, etc. You go by band name, track names, and your gut.
(most people's guts have shit for brains -get it?- but not my guts. No, I'm your favorite cultural detective; I can sniff out little clues and make a picture out of them. You'll see...)
It's like a peepshow- pay a quarter, take your chance, see what it is that you can see.
It turns out that The Three Degrees are on Philadelphia International Records- home of the Philly Sound. Yeah! I didn't notice this at first, but then I saw 'K. Gamble and L. Huff' as the songwriters, and then, I could hear them too. Gamble and Huff produced/wrote tons of 'the Philly Sound' bands. Very smooth RnB, around the time when disco mixed with other sounds in a pretty dynamic way. Usually, this mix involves some of the funk and fun of disco; but with the regal pomp, drama, and cooled-out style of rhythm and blues and soul.
Ooh, I'm tellin' you- if you don't know, now you know. Evidently, Gamble and Huff were also producing at a time when so-called "Women's Lib" was a topic of convo; here are some of the spoken lyrics to The Three Degrees' "I Like Being a Woman":
"You know, women's liberation It's cool. I mean, it's got its good points and its bad points.
But you know sometimes, i just want to be loved And that's when i become your slave. I don't want to be your equal, i just want to be a part of you."
Right! And on the topic, these were some sharp looking broads. If you haven't seen the youtube clip above (shame on you then!), here's a pic:
Hot to Trot, right?
They told me that "A Woman Needs A Good Man" to be a good woman.
If you know me IRL, then you have heard me discuss how I am the Second Coming. The Secular-Second-Coming, that is. I discussed it last night in fact, at Alexi's. But I can never remember all the reasons (so many reasons...) that could prove My Divinity to skeptics. Even the (Re-)Christ forgets things, okay? (It makes it easier to forgive, BTW!) Here are the reasons that I always remember: My name means bearer of christ (and who would bear christ more than the Re-Christ?) Almost nothing bad ever happens to me I have stigmata: one from an ACTUAL NAIL going through my hand; the other JUST SHOWED UP ONE DAY and has a way bigger/better scar than the nail one people love the shit out of me (with this corrolary: while I love everyone, in my own special -often despising- way, Jesus did not really love ALL THINGS, just all people: I love all things, even Us Weekly and dirt, so that makes me BETTER THAN HIM) I have a beard
((This is Soutine. It is supposed to be a self-portrait, with a beard, but I see no beard... Well, let's cut him some slack SINCE HE'S DEAD))
But just moments ago, I remembered another one, a really key reason. Everything in my life is connected in a productive way. I don't mean 'connected' as in "Man, my yoga guru and I are like, totally connected", nor do I mean it in the sense that temporally distant and causally distinct events might be thought to 'mean something' or 'belong' together. I mean that something happens- I hear something, I say something, I see something- and then something else happens- I am told something, I am shown something, I post something- and the connection which is established between the 1st and 2nd thing/event is E P I C.
It's like this: Went to the Barnes Institute the other day. Saw many painters that were new/s to me. One of those was Pacsin. (others of note were Corot, Rouault, Demuth, Sefarbi, Pippin, Glackens, Karl Priebe, Soutine, Settani, Dimock, Wols, and Gritchenko) Of these, Pacsin may have impressed me the least -- BUT -- there is a Divine Connection lurking...
I went to my WC today, just as I was thinking about writing a lil' weblo' about the Barnes Foundation http://www.barnesfoundation.org/ (people gotta know, ya know?). In the WC I have a copy of Hemingway's 'A Moveable Feast'. I don't love Hemingway, by the by, this is just a physically small book that will fit in the WC. (I scavenged it from Villanova Katie.)
One that I got recently, too, which makes me more likely to read it (oh, the backlog of books...). Plop down for a read and what do you think the very next chapter is called? 'With Pacsin at the Dome', that's what it's called. One and the same Pacsin as of the Barnes. HAH! The Supremes were playing on the jukebox (hereafter 'juxe') aka ITunes, which is also weblo' material (Past and Future). Dr.J and I were just talking about the Supremes here, and she had this genius insight about how the sample in question basically added a comma ('love child' vs 'love, child...') to the meaning. That changed the meaning from a comment about the status of the child, to a comment about the love this child has for someone else. Then I read the following in my German book (yes, the book from that OTHER blog).
Friedrich the Great was friends with the philosopher Moses Mendelssohn. Let’s pretend this Matisse below is Friedrich the Great, shall we?
And let’s pretend this Cezanne is a young Moses Mendelssohn.
Mendelssohn invited Friedrich the Great to dinner, and was keeping poor Fred waiting. The Great wrote a note and told his servant to place it on the missing philosopher's plate. The note reads: "Mendelssohn is an ass. [signed] Friedrich the second." Mendelssohn finally arrives, reads the note, puts it in his pocket. Friedrich says jovially, 'Hey, Moses, what was that note? What did it say?' Mendelssohn smiles and loudly reads HIS version of the note: "Mendelssohn is an ass; Friedrich: the second". Get it? Change the emphasis/punctuation a little, and The Great is just one of multiple asses. (Also densely connected within Blogville because Chet probably has read this note in the Official National German Archives- in the original German, no doubt.)
See? I was going to write a blog anyway, and then all these other related things pop up to jiggle my memory box and get themselves inserted into the blog too! And see how then it got WAY BIGGER and then mutated into a blog about how my blogs can mutate into other, bigger blogs? And when these things come together in a really big, really effective, really truly awesome way, then we have such a greatness that we have no option other than to declare the birth of a divinity. OBVIOUSLY (that's El Greco's version of the vision of my ascension. They're trying to take off my clothes! Gasp/Giggle!)
Now, in no way, shape, or form do I think that my Father is GUIDING these things. There is not something or someone planning/directing/guaranteeing this good-into-Awesome development of reality. No, no, three times no. The new Christ is not a piece of a 'tripartite good', but an equiprimordial 'bipartite AWESOME'. Meaning, that my father does not guide these things, but rather they happen simply as a direct causal effect of the ontological depth of my reality. Holier than thou? NO: REALier than thou. I am, in the strict sense, 'more real' than you are: I have more formal and objective reality than you.
Don't get offended- it's a dirty job, but someone has to be the new improved Christ.
I am 'causa sui' (that means 'self-caused') -here, I say causa sui not as strictly as I said 'more real', but close: I am the primary cause of my own increase in reality. Hence the so-called bipartite awesome: I sprang fully formed from my own forehead- also, just heard Missy Elliot say "I don't brag I mostly boast..." --told you it was all related!!!)
Now, if there is not a transcendent/external cause, but an immanent/internal one (immanent to the caused, even- hence the 'loose-sense causa sui'), then you can understand why I stand in no need of a father. The result being: two parts (me as cause, and, me as effect) not three; and no need to go outside of the connected things to find a 'reason' why they are connected. (An important corrolary of the above is that no things BELONG together, but that many things can be productively combined, which is precisely the means by which I increase my being). Diana Ross does not BELONG with Hemingway; but she can (as it turns out- you could not have predicted it!) be placed right alongside, or superimposed upon him, and we can then see an increase in knowledge, power, or being (the three being very nearly synonomous: very tightly related). (The above is Karl Priebe- admit it: you'd never heard of him either. That is not ACTUALLY a painting of Diana Ross- her hair is not that bad.)
And, to go back to my love of all things, Jesus was a dirty dirty humanist: people are different than, and better than, things, according to him (Jesus= Augustine here; same diff, right?). But I know (this would be 'The Newest/Bestest Testament') that people are not different than things: people are simply made up of things. (Trust Me: Spinoza proved this for us.)
In my case, the things of which I am made up of are : The Supremes, Hemingway (just a little Hem though), a really big and badass bookcase, asphalt, a selection of works from the Barnes, coffee (aw, you could tell by this weblo, huh?), Missy Elliot, the day of Sunday, shoes, ties, special-bought shoelaces to ghetto-match with my shirts/hats (yup, made of those too), etc. etc. etc.
The above things have a shit-ton of being or reality (or, perhaps a dick-ton: I am willing to admit when I don't know something- I am a modest little DIVINITY after all), especially when combined. I am nothing but those things of which I am made. I am made of the above things THEREFORE I have a shit-ton/dick-ton of being. QED
(DEMUTH- I was probably the most taken with him) (Demuth again duh)
Degas
Matisse
Modigliani
Toulouse-Lautrec
(It pains me to say this, but most of the above pictures are NOT the ones at the Barnes. It was surprisingly difficult to find pictures of the paintings that I remember online; partly because, beyond the Matisses, and the Picassos, and the Cezannes, the Renoirs, etc., most of these artists are not so well-loved and so well-documented that many would take the time to put up significant numbers of their works. Plus old museum people are scared of the ones-and-zeros. The last 4 are at the Barnes Foundation; the Great and the Philosopher are as well; the smoking girl is Picasso's and I think there too.)
I am learning German right now: Iche lerne die Deutsch. I have some books, and all of them are quite boring, except one: Elementary German Series by Peter Hagboldt.
I'm aware of how thrilling this sounds. This book is only of note (to you, at least - to me, es hilft mich mit die Wörtern!) because of it's drawings. You know, children -- feeble minds -- must be kept entertained, and I am much like them in this respect. It was illustrated by W.T. Mars and Susan Perl. Susan Perl also illustrated "The Sex Life of the American Female". What I have here is aimed down a little, as far as age goes. Roughly, this age:
Just some of the best illustrations today (I might post more later- these are not the only good bits PROMISE). All of these appear to be woodcuts, but I'm no expert (you won't hear me say that very often) Come on; I know something about everything, not everything about everything.
Speaking of, let me here justify the posts tagged "Archive Fever". Blogs should be a particular form of narcissism. They do it well: displaying bits of whatever catches someone's attention about themselves. But if a blog is up there so you can discuss yourself, I mean your 'self', then that is generally in very poor taste. (I'll tell you why later: it's my anti-humanism at work.) It reminds me of this song
It has choice lines like "Hey all you Renaissance Geniuses you know we wanna see it all your vaginas and your penises your feces-es masterpieces oh".
I am not a Renaissance Genius myself. I am a Renaissance Dilettante: hence knowing something about it all. So I am archiving my GREAT stuff, not because it is mine, but because it is GREAT. It's interesting stuff (Vinyl records, woodcuts, tins, Italian anti-drug pamphlets, skateshop vinyl figurines, etc.) It's all AWESOME first, and mine only secondarily. That they are mine just makes it easier for me to present them to you (I'm not lazy: I'm just efficient). Plus, some of it's three-dimensional, so I am bringing analog and three dimensions to the digital and 2-D internet. EVERYTHING SOUNDS BETTER/BEST WITH ME.
'On to the pictures, please', right?
I particularly like this one. The lion has its right paw raised, giving a balance to its raised tail. Even better, the roots of the trees snake around its feet, so that you know that the lion is in the forest. If the roots didn't come into the foreground, the tree would seem to be in the background. But the story clearly says that the lion is in the forest; I know this because I read the story BECAUSE I AM SMART AND I AM LEARNING GERMAN.
And to bring it back to the text, here is one with a little Deutsch thrown in. It says that the wolf ate a little lamb, "but was still hungry: a wolf is always hungry!" So it went back, but the farmers caught it and beat it with their sticks until they had "beaten the wolf as soft as butter".
Funny people, these Germans.
(FYI I bit the title of Archive Fever from Derrida- the only thing you'll ever get of him from me.
Music; musing; must-haves.
The curatorial agenda. Sealing up a void whose vacuity was a source of distress to no one. The seed I am most likely to sow is a certain jargon. Built on tilt. The center of a new universe of counterfeit. Increasingly random and increasingly increasing.
THE SNAPBACK, ISSUE 1
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I created Soul Sides 20 years ago because I wanted an outlet to write about
my favorite records. The blog era feels bygone — and I clearly stopped
regularl...
Hotel Bar Sessions, Ep 31: Whose History?
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The HBS hosts sit down with Dr. Charles McKinney, Jr. to talk about whose
history is (and isn't) being taught.
Following on the heels of a recent and ...
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