That Just Happened

Well it seems I was Flickr Blogged and it's like a valve has been released and people from all over the universe are visiting me now so.... Hello. Some background:



This picture is of Jack Lesser, guitarist from The Mighty Handful and bassist for Women. (Women. with a "." to differentiate from Women from Canada). Jack's bands, along with literally hundreds of bands in NYC, play on the all-ages circuit which includes shows put on by Todd P and Joe Ahern*. If you visit The Mighty Handful's Myspace page, you'll find links to bands like Banzai, Le Rug, Radiates, Michael Jordan, Consumer Feedback, Tunnel of Love, Antimagic and scores more. If you're in a position to visit them (you have an office job you hate, say, or are currently unemployed) and take a listen, I think you'll find something for you -- something to excite you or make you pause.

About me: This blog links to bands like this and people whose work I appreciate as well as a running commentary on my work in television and other media. It hasn't been updated recently in any sincere way (Twitter has a way of breaking things down, really) but this could change at any moment with a new job or a new experience.

Thanks for visiting and leave comments.

*At this point I'm more interested in getting content up than hyperlinking. Research and Google are your friends.

Land Shark.

Hi. Go read someone else's blog for a while because it seems I have not posted in over a month. Michelle Lapid's Blog has pictures from a job I did in Atlanta (and betrays the secret identity of one of my clients) over two months ago. See if you can find me. I think you'll be pleasantly surprised. Didn't I tell you I was in Atlanta? I really need to get back on this thing. Sheesh.

An aside; Tunnel of Love is making a return engagement to NYC this Saturday at 7pm. The place? Market Hotel. I've been at Cake Shop a lot lately and it will be good to go somewhere else.

Ruckus Brought

"We choose to go to the moon in this decade and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard, because that goal will serve to organize and measure the best of our energies and skills, because that challenge is one that we are willing to accept, one we are unwilling to postpone, and one which we intend to win, and the others, too."
JFK, Delivered at Rice University in Houston, Texas on 12 September 1962.

For those coming in through the front door, there are others here.


Julian


Jonathan


Lucian

Help Me, Alex. Help Me Help You

I'm going to invent the genre of "Classic Punk" to occupy the same niche as "Classic Rock," as in 'we've come to change the future of Classic Punk forever,' or 'they sound very Classic Punk.' They'll hate me for it, but I want to think Consumer Feedback lives in that space.

Further,

Dear Knitting Factory,

Why come you don't turn no lights on for the afternoon shows? I know the lights exist physically -- I can see them with my naked eye and I've seen them turned on in the past. Are you saving that much money? Are you comfortable with your lack of effort? Is there an image of slapdash fuck-it-all-ness you're trying to maintain? Are they broken? For God's sake don't try to make things look cool -- that would break my heart.

Sincerely,

Richard Gin

P.S. I look forward to you moving to the current Luna Lounge space and somehow managing to make the lighting worse. See you next year!

Motion To Previous Question

It seems that I remembered how to do things correctly and now I want to shoot with film more often. What's that about hubris? Real scans WILL BE DONE, but that WILL take a while. Gimme a week or two.

For those who come in through the front door on the Blog, the rest of them are here and there will be more going up shortly.

Brute Force Works Sometimes

So my refrigerator died, which is a dumb way to start a post about concert pictures. Anyway, my refrigerator died which means that I had to clean it out so the little men who took it away would not hurt themselves before bringing in the NEW refrigerator. In my cleaning I found fifteen or so rolls of long-since expired Fujipan 400 and I, never being one to leave an expensive stone unrolled (or whatever), decided to shoot Fiasco's goodbye show at Market Hotel.

Long story short, I realized I should probably do a clip test because God-knows how long I've had that film in the fridge and who knows how well it's held up. Plus I have no idea what I'm doing in general (fun fact!).

This is the clip test. Scans of the real deal to come soon. Or not. I have to shoot my brother's wedding so that will take up a lot of time.

A Song of Dispair

They came full bore like Mongols from the east following the scent of blood and there was panic in the room as they counted and played. "This will be bad; such sorrow, such sorrow," someone said aloud, though that someone was probably me. That which I had not read in histories I had seen before -- the broken dreams and shattered skulls and bloodied limbs strewn about pell mell like tinsel on a Christmas tree. And the distended faces of the wailing and the rending of garments! Women lamented and huddled by the cold steel walls, and the dust rose as the invaders beat and stomped in time and chanted themes of intimidation and slaughter.



Michael Jordan -- a name fit to boil blood and steam the innards of the weak and infirm. The tales of woe handed down from block to bock rang true in our primitive minds and animal urges took control: TO DANCE, to scream and shout and experience the suffering and horror of generations past; the denial of self -- the hivemind. Would we be bold enough to beat back the savage display of carnal, base ritual or would be assimilated into their ranks, any past remnants of our culture swallowed like the children of Saturn.



The promise of our survival was short lived. Some fell to the floor and struggled to stand only to fall again, weak as a fresh foal before the butcher and timid as a three-legged sheep before wolves. Those that fled -- God save them -- were left to sow their crops amongst the pitious cowards and fancy-boys who lay like fallen busts in orderly rows in the garden with their clove cigarettes.



When it was over we were converted -- we were helpless to protect ourselves from their will and succumbed to the raging sea. In the silence that followed there was peace and the sun shined behind us and a songbird twitterchirped in the rustling trees. They had gone. We looked on each other with shame and disgust -- we looked at ourselves and felt soiled -- unclean.

Michael Jordan raped us.

Does Auda Serve?

I carry twenty-three great wounds all got in battle.


Seventy-five men have I killed with my own hands in battle.


I scatter, I burn my enemies' tents.


I take away their flocks and herds.


The Turks pay me a golden treasure, yet I am poor!


Because I am a river to my people!

DO YOU WANT THE LAMINATE?

Playing back to the 'too young to care' feelings from previous entries and offering all ages chiptune madness for all ages is Starscream -- 8-bit plink-pop for you and yours to enjoy unapologetically. Perhaps, upon hearing them, you would feel the urge to surf the willing crowd or bruise your neighbor with you hips and elbows. All of this is encouraged. One should also take special notice of the floors buckling under the strain of three classes of teenagers pogo-ing in unison and retreat to a more load-bearing part of the building; such is the urge for people with the burden of debt.



I was at the Knitting Factory last night (3/22) and continued to be rendered inert by the lack of FUN that bands seem to be having once they escape college. Everyone wants to be in a band, but no one wants to be a Rock Star. There are exceptions to every rule (Tunnel Of Love -- I'm talking to you...) but overall I yearn for showmanship; for bands to engage with the crowd; to push BACK when the pit swallows you up; to let the pit swallow you up.

To have a pit in general. I guess it's hard to dance when you're protecting your seven dollar beer. That's a serious investment these days.

SAVONAROLA IS BACK FROM THE DEAD

Until Sleater-Kinney gets back together I will have to be happy (and I am, believe me) with the sudden and powerful return of Savonarola, two of my dear dear friends and one of my favorite singer/songwriter duos. I rank them higher than the Lennon and McCartney. I am a contrarian.

They dissolved about a year and a half ago after one self-released album (full disclosure: I produced "Knives" and "People I Don't Like") when Ted had a midlife crisis and ran off to join These Are Powers.

AND NOW THEY ARE BACK. And possibly with another name change, though I'm encouraging them to keep it, and possibly with a stylistic change, which would predicate a name change. In short, they are writing stuff, but I have no idea what it is. They played an acoustic show at Tommy's Tavern (possibly the best they've played) on Sunday on a bill promoted by Anthony Macbain and featuring he, Schwaahed, Ron Wax and MC'd by Oldman Unfamous Jacob.

The images (and there are more here), were my first with my new Pocket Wizards (awesome) and the after-show was my first time DJ-ing (off a borrowed iPod, no less).

A splendid time was had by all.