A quick word about Fox Movie Channel

This is not one of the great movie stations on cable – they tend to play Cleopatra at the drop of a hat or play the same film about 35 times a month. But they have one special feature that is un-intentional comedy gold.

They have short feature called casting session. They interview the cast and the crew of a movie and they all plug the puppy talking about how good the script was how good the actors were, etc.

The comedy comes in when they are talking about a dog like Catwoman or more recently My Super Ex-Girlfriend. It’s funny in a grim sick way watching these professionals whore themselves to promote a dog of a film. Hell the best acting I ever saw Sharon Stone do was her talking about how Catwoman was a movie about a woman finding her power. Never cracked a smile.

You sit there and thing of the bad bad reviews and how the film has tanked and you watch them talk about how much fun it was to make My Super Ex-Girlfriend how it’s a twist on the classic romantic comedy and how the actors got along “a real ensemble”. Like it was “As good as it Gets” or something.

Like I said, funny if you’re in a grim mood.

Der Folk

Short Version: We go to the Bitter End - I remember why I don't like folkies. We drink we leave.

Went to see a guy we know (Tony London) from the open mike play at the Bitter End - He was very very good – the rest, well, just were awful.

I don’t quite know what the hell it is about folk musicians (not folk music) that gets under my skin but boy oh boy do folkies get me blood up. All I need is somebody in jeans, some kind of flannel looking shirt thing, sandals, a beard, an earring, stoned to the gills on dope, to stand in front of me tuning his guitar and explaining how he came to write the next song “I broke up with my girlfriend” (good for her- my thought) tune tune tune – the E string is almost but no, he’s sharp now. He lowers the tension on the string, tune tune tune, almost there – “And I was feeling pretty bad” (You’re not alone bub) – tune tune tune. “and then I found another girl” Tune tune tune (is that damned E string ever going to get in tune?) “And then she ditched me” (a pattern? Hmmm?) “And I felt pretty bad” (AHHHHHHHH!!!!! ENOUGH – WE FEEL BAD TOO– MAYBE WORSE THAN YOU) “And then I didn’t feel so bad” (REMEMBER IT’SUP THE VEIN) “and then I wrote this song about strawberries” And then he starts playing “Strawberries, strawberries you’re so sweet on my tongue” (SWEET BABBLING MOTHER OF GOD WHAT THE HELL WAS THE POINT OF ALL THAT GIBBERISH YOU MADE US SUFFER THROUGH IF YOU’RE GOING TO SING ABOUT F**KING FRUIT? I NEED MORE BURBON IF I’M GOING TO GET THROUGH ANOTHER DAMN SONG WITOUT KILLING MYSELF). I swear it’s all I can do to stop myself from standing on the table and screaming “BORING! BORING! BORING!”

The Enemy Below agreed and after strong drink - and a decent interval after Tony had stopped singing – and again I feel compelled to point out that he was far and away the best performer there. (He also has a whip smart and very pretty girlfriend. - I admit I’m jealous). We said our good byes to them and fled into the night.

I’d spent more time then I care to admit drifting around the folkie word banging my head trying to get a least a showcase gig but I never fit in. I never fit in anywhere but for some reason I was very aware of not fitting in. Put it down to a clash of personalities. While I can be as navel gazing introspective and can feel as sorry for myself as the next guy – I try not to inflict it upon other people. And I especially don’t like singing about it to other people.

The Sirius Headache

Just finished and oh my word what a slog it was, the Sirius Mystery by Robert Temple. It’s the updated version of the book originally published in 1976. The general thrust of the book is that, based on the oral traditions of the Dagon tribe in Africa which show knowledge of Astronomy that is a bit startling, namely that Sirius is a double star (actually a triple star) and that their tradition is that gods came down from heaven and gave them their civilization. He melds this with the Sumerian tradition of some kind of half man/half fish demon as the being who gave them their civilization and he comes up with the hypothesis that Amphibian Aliens from a planet in orbit around Sirius arrived on the earth and brought civilization to mankind.

Most of the book is a fairly tedious look at the place of Sirius in early Middle East and Greek mythology, with dizzying links to other topics such as the place of the number fifty and the like. It’s quite a slog and I’m not sure I a) got the point and b) do I care if I got the point.

Anyway it seems that the Dagon know something more about Sirius than they should given they were a tribe in Africa and didn’t have things like Einstein and Telescopes. They apparently held that Sirius was a system of 3 stars an idea that was only recently proven to be true, which I’d say is a point for Him. However he didn’t mention this much in the 76 material which suggests he was a little unsure of that. Which considering the wild nature of his central thesis I can understand.

But even granting the Dogon’s knowledge (and per the web there is some controversy over that ) I have a lot of trouble with this idea. Reasons follow.

While I am not totally opposed to the idea of space gods coming to earth and jump starting civilization, it doesn’t really scan for me. For one, while it’s possible, it’s extremely unlikely. We’ve been looking for signs of intelligent life in the universe for about 30 years now. We’ve seen squat. There are a lot of reasons that could be 1) We’re not looking in the right place, 2) we can’t recognize the footprints of a truly advanced civilization – like they really would be using radio waves 3) they are keeping us in the dark 4) they are too far away – the Galaxy’s a big place and 5) there is nobody out there.

I personally favor #5 or #4 – The earth is such a rare bird – a planet orbiting a single stable yellow sun, large moon, large planet like Jupiter to suck up a lot of the incoming comets, that it seems likely the number of like worlds would be rather small – at least when compared to the size of the Galaxy. And while it looks like life is hard wired into physics of the universe in some way the number of planets where life can take hold is limited. Then looking at the history of life on this earth some 4 billions years – an intelligence advanced to the point of civilization (cities, farming, rockets) has happened exactly once. Us.

The Galaxy may indeed be teeming with life but it could mostly in the form of bacterial mats.

Okay there is that, my, I admit, presumed, rarity of intelligence in the Galaxy, which leads to my second problem: our record when we’ve come into contact with more primitive folks is pretty dire. Even when we’ve gone in with all good intentions things get ugly fast. Hell there is little guarantee that aliens wouldn’t find us delicious rather than trying to build up our civilization. It seems such a new wave idea that, while aliens may indeed turn out to be Yoda like creatures with a desire to benefit all life, they could just as well regard us as finger food.

But what really kills this for me is the idea of Amphibian Aliens going through space and coming to earth. Several big problems with this.

1) Water bound creatures – water is heavy, a lot heavier than air. The energy required to toss an Apollo capsule full of water into orbit is staggering compared to a capsule full of air and look at the size of the Saturn Five, and the Shuttle rockets. I guess you could get around that by putting the passengers into suspended animation until they arrive at their location but in that case you’d have to be damn sure there was water there.

2) metallurgy - The history of civilization (on this planet anyway) is, in addition to things like the development of agriculture and writing, is the history of the use of metals – from copper to bronze to iron, to steel – all of which require heat -lots of it. We get that heat from fire – tin melts at a low temperature, copper is higher, and Iron requires a lot of heat and steel even more to make – there are other factors as well – I’m not a metallurgist – never mind aluminum, titanium and all the exotic alloys that go into aircraft and space ships. Now Temple cites the Dogon as saying the gods came in what he calls rocket ships (The word blood in the story interpreted as fire – not a bad idea really.) How in blue blazes does Temple suggest our amphibian friends got to do metallurgy?

3) The Dagon’s (to use one of Temple’s terms) biology. In a pretty staggering moment he suggests that the dagons were air breathers – since dolphins and whales are smart I guess and sharks aren’t – however this undercuts his hypotheses about life on Sirius – that it is a water covered planet. Dolphins and Whales (along with the extinct giant reptiles that swam the waters of the dinosaur era) are the descendants of land animals that returned to the sea. The reason they are air breathers is that their ancestors developed lungs from their gills and once you do that, you can’t go back – so they were stuck breathing air. They adapted very well but still air breathing is a handicap. Which when you start thinking space going you have even more of a problem – not only will you need water - you need air as well. There is a reason we shot monkeys and dogs into space first not dolphins.

Temple also tries to explain the apparent (I’ll leave it at that – this is too long anyway) rain water erosion of the sphinx by suggesting that the Gaza plaza was flooded to give the Amphibian Aliens a place to swim or something as they were also giving Egypt their civilization. It’s a pretty lame answer but it was probably the best he could do since he is stuck with a time line that doesn’t allow for the simplest explanation of water erosion – that the sphinx was built when it was raining in Egypt of a regular basis about 10,500 b.c. or so.

That’s about all I want to do on this – I’ve spent too much time and my head hurts. There was more I wanted to say but my motivation to do so is just not what it was.

New song in my head

Well I got a new song in my head. Woke up with the first verse in my head and the rest came while shaving. I have to write it otherwise none of the others will come as well. It's pretty sick and that for this band is saying something. Have to let The Enemy Below hear it and see what he thinks.

There are times the creative process bugs me and this is one of them. I've been blocked or felt blocked for weeks now and all of a sudden bang there is this thing floating in my head. I don't even really know how good it is to be honest. But that's not really my job, my job is to come up with the damned things. Now I know that this wouldn't have come if I hadn't been banging my head on the brick wall that was between me and my creative spark for Weeks, I just wish that wasn't the case. Dry spells make me nervous. What if I never have another idea again? says the voice of my really anoying superego that sometimes I want to strangle. And I do wonder that.

And the really funny thing is that creating is the most egoless thing that I do. Picking my clothes for the day has more for pete's sake. I'm just kind of there writing the words down.

Other notes: moved by Syd's death I listened to Pink Floyd all night last night. Lighthearted this group ain't. They are very good at gloom - and a sense of just barely contained rage and maddness. Go with your strenghts I supose.

The Diana Rigg Picture is for me. Just beautiful she was then.

Gig and aftermath

Had a good set Saturday at Otto’s – Many many many thanks to everybody who came especially Murray who has missed maybe one set I’ve ever done. That’s endurance let me tell you thanks heaps. I have to say that it’s a very wonderful but odd feeling to be singing something like Someone Else or Stacy and have the audience sing along.

We managed to sell some EP’s for the cause – the money goes into the Bob Muir and the Enemy Below Album fund – not into cheap gin and floozies as had been my initial desire – mature reflection brought that idea to an end. We need the LP for our long term plan to rule the world. And then t-shirts.

Late apologies to the band coming on behind us – yes we sprinted out to the bar after the set but – a) we needed to talk about the set –b) get drinks and c) schmooze with the people who came to see us. Which meant we would have been talking over your songs. Seemed the better part of valor there to split.

Feel a bit flat without a gig to do – but this week was going to make me feel flat anyway – I’m coming up on one of those birthdays-that-make-you-stop-and-reflect-on-your-life, which being where I am now completely sucks. I consider this kind of maudlin self pity to be nothing but self indulgent emotional wallowing but that’s where I am this week. My feeling right now is that nothing’s ever worked out, my relationships have been disasters and I’ve wasted years of my life waiting for things to change without me doing anything to change them.

This gloom is of course exacerbated by the useless killing going on in the middle east and the sure sense that the Monkey in the White house is going to some how make it worse.

Pictures from the gig as I get them.

Some Pics from the studio

Just a few pictures from our recording session.

Did the gig - more later.

In the Studio - Recording sucks rockets

We finally got to into the studio and got the damn ep recorded – and it was not a heck of a lot of fun. The Enemy Below said even before we started told me how much he hates recording “I’m a live musician” he said, “I hate the studio. It’s never any fun”

I’m not that adverse to the studio – there are all those weird things you can do once you get the basic tracks set and getting the right mix and adding an effect here and there fascinate me. I would probably fiddle with a damn song until I broke it to be honest.

But I’m with the Enemy Below on one thing – laying down the tracks is sheer torture – playing or singing. It was better this time cause it was the two of us (Last time I was alone in the studio – that’s a lonely feeling) but still you don’t get that charge you get from being in front of an audience you don’t get the energy from them – you to bring it all yourself. Which is exhausting.

And when something goes wrong – you just want to shoot yourself.

What went wrong for us was right after we finished recording the music tracks for all the songs we find out the tape is defective and once every minute there is this hideous crackle when we play it back. An Hour and ½ of work done in by a tape. That feeling sucked rockets. You wanted to pull your head off, rather than get back into this little booth and do it all again

But we re-do the the music tracks and lay down the vocals. I was pissed and nervous and just well all over the map so I ended up yelling more than I wanted to – and louder as well.

But I think at least a few things went okay – “I’m sorry works” as well as Stacy and even “Some one else” works – almost.

So we mixed the whole mess down and got 5 songs to bring to our next gig. Once we get the cover and label done that is.

Pictures later.

Orgasm Cults

In the news it was reported that one of the trolls working for Kean Jr.’s Senate campaign in New Jersey (side rand: what the heck is with this 2nd generation stuff – You figure a Kennedy or two or three would enter politics (it’s big family) but Kean Jr? Let’s not talk about W okay? And all those sons and daughters of actors in Hollywood – There is the Sheen clan and Angelina. I could be wrong but it seems more and more these days you can’t pick your parents too carefully).

Anyway the thing that got the herbal tea (trying to cut down on coffee) out my nose was that said troll, when working in a New Hampshire race sent out post cards accusing the other guy’s wife of being a member of an Orgasm Cult.

You know I like the sound of that: Orgasm Cult – if we had not already named the band, it would have been a contender. Need to keep it in the back of my mind.

2nd Silliest damn thing I read that day – the other was a stupid/silly/damn scary posting from a countdown to the rapture site. While sane people are worried about the fighting in the Middle East, they are happy and eager for the end of the world. One woman said she was going to get her hair and nails done to meet Jesus.

The Orgasm Cult looks like a better deal right now.

I know where Syd Barrett Lived

Word has come through the internet that Syd Barrett passed away July 7th 2006. He was 60.

First thought that popped into my head was “Poor Syd, Poor damned Syd”

Syd was a co-founder of Pink Floyd, and Rock’s most famous acid victims along with Skip Spence of Moby Grape fame and Roky Erickson of the 13th Floor Elevators. He was Floyd’s main song writer in the beginning and lead singer. Floyd in those days was a very very different band from the Floyd of the Dark Side of the Moon and Wish you were here.

He was a gifted song writer with a childlike sense of wonder about the world and then the darkness came. Schizophrenia, exacerbated by the drugs took him away. At least they think that was Schizophrenia, but this was the 60’s and just about every mental symptom they didn’t understand got dumped into the Schizophrenia bin.

Reading again the story of Syd’s breakdown I get a sense of the rest of Floyd’s confusion and heartbreak – what the hell did they know about mental illness? They were musicians in England in their 20’s it was the swinging sixties it was the summer of love and their band leader and friend was becoming some one else, with brief moments of the old Syd – I the end they didn’t do everything right but I’m not too sure I wouldn’t have acted any differently – and I know from mental illness.

So Syd drifted away doing a couple, three solo albums before going to Cambridge and living with his mother until she died and after that living alone resurfacing from time to time. Once was when Floyd was making “wish you were here”. He walked into the studio having shaved his head (even his eyebrows which is why that bit is in the movie of The Wall) and nobody recognized him. Roger Waters said he broke into tears when he realized it was Syd.

I always found the cult of Syd a little creepy, even though I love Robyh Hitchcock who was a huge fan not only of the Floyd work but the solo stuff – which I never really got. And Dan Trecy of TV Personalities who had a minot hit with “I know were Syd Barret lives”. Trecy is another artist who’s battled depression and the like.

He had a sad life and now he’s gone. I hope his soul is at peace.

We’re going to record tonite – after that I’m putting the wish you were here on my i-pod.

We're finally going to record but first From Hell it Came!

I was in a very odd mood last night and ended up watching "The Curse of the Faceless Man" "From Hell it Came" and "Manos" all in one go - what scares me a bit is aside from now knowing there is no point to life, it's just an absurd farce, I'm okay.

Anyway about - From Hell it came –

And as per the New York Times “And back it can go”.

Good god what a horrible film – horrible acting, bad cheap sets, and oh lord the walking tree monster sets a new low. Add to that the latent racism/sexism that inflicts the picture and what may be the worst Australian/ cockney accent ever to make it on film you have a recipe for junk.

Briefly stated a native on one of the faker South Sea Islands is unjustly killed by a knife to the heart and buried after pledging to return to seek vengeance. Meantime there is a scientific survey team on the island treating the natives and looking for any effects some H-bomb fall out that fell on the island. One of the scientists is having a love affair with what looks like scotch and the other is brooding cause the girl he loves is a doctor as well who would rather work than marry him and raise babies and he’s on this island. We also meet a widow who runs the trading post (she is the one with the fake accent) – we don’t care. We really don’t care.

Some toing and froing go on, and it is necessary for the brooding doctor’s lady love to return to the island and help out. The couple talks and bickers and argues about marriage and all that while treating some of the natives for plague. What kind of plague? I don’t know and I don’t care. You won’t care either, I promise.

Very jarring to cotemporary ears is the assumption by both the brooding scientist and his lady love that if she marries she will give up medicine. Nowadays you’d figure hell they are both doctors for a while at least, DINK (double income no kids) heaven awaits, But no, both sides assume she will put down the lancet and take up the apron upon pledging her troth to the brooding scientist (I’m not giving any names cause I don’t want to).

Meantime a tree stump with a face and knife exactly like the one that killed the wrong native sticking out of it starts growing out of the grave of the wronged native. A Connection? Nah. After two days it’s fully grown into a 7 foot bad prop (things grow fast in the South Seas but really) the scientists dig up aid tree and take it to their lab. There after another pointless argument between the happy couple, the lady doctor decides to give the tree some kind of drug to help its heart beat (please don’t ask it isn’t worth it) then assured that the tree won’t do anything they all leave (Yes they are scientists and doctors but they are not bright scientists and doctors). Some hours later the Tree Monster (called the Tobonga) is on the lose. It kills the woman who done it wrong (after the woman was in a pointless cat fight – not that it matters much but for the cat-fight the camera was so far away from the ‘action’ you could have used stunt doubles). The Tobonga kills her by dropping her in the quicksand – actually it looks like the quicksand wading pool but no matter – none of this matters. The monster then roams the island at a very very slow pace (the poor bastard inside was probably roasting to death in the sun and afraid that if he went any faster he’d topple over) killing the others what did him in – you won’t care other than to wonder why running away from something that the creeping terror could beat in a sprint didn’t pop into the mind of the victims.

At some point the white people get in the act – and shortly after that the Tobonga takes off with the lady doctor – to toss her in the quicksand wading pool. I have to note here that the lady doctor has the worst scream I have ever heard in a monster movie. Really it sounds more like some kind of bird call like for a crow or a raven – I can only assume there was no money for dubbing during post production. As they race to save her, the brooding scientist hits on the way to kill the Tobonga, shove the knife that is sticking out of its chest all the way in. Now considering how slowly the Tobonga moves and how clumsy it is, you’d think it would be a simple matter of walking up, avoiding what ever clumsy attack it made and just banging on the dagger handle with either the flat of your hand in karate like move or just use the butt of a rifle but instead, in order to add suspense – that’s not right – to try and add suspense they decide to try and hit the dagger with a bullet, not an unchallenging shot. Well they manage to kill the beast, it falls into the quicksand wading pool and everybody in the film who are left alive are happy – the brooding scientist and the lady doctor are going to get married and the rest well the rest do okay as well. It’s the audiences that have suffered through this mess that bear the permanent damage.


In other news we will finally hit the studio tuesday night and with luck will have an ep for the masses on the 15th - tenative song list "Have Sex with Me"; "Someone Else", "People with Insect Heads", "I'm sorry" and "Stacy" due to time and budget constraints this will have to be pretty raw but we will go back in put the cello solo in later, never fear. I promise.

Working on "Bomb Iran"