Why Pavement is So Dangerous for a Liberal Arts Musician

( The author with Alameda at Sin E, NYC 2003)

You play an instrument and you're good enough so that you have felt that fleeting intoxication of performance. The real essence of that feeling is of course, the celebration of you by others, particularly those of the opposite sex (or not opposite as could be the case).

It's late at night and your at home with headphones on or in your car listening to some album, very loudly. Maybe you're at a bar with a friend, maybe it's your band mate. You listen to every song on that album, singing all the choruses, pantomiming all the guitar lines, walking the bass notes, and all the while thinking, "I can do this!" "I can write these songs." You collapse into the couch or park the car, close your eyes and it's you singing on stage enjoying the lights, the crowd, the crying, the empathy, the respect. It's 3am and you're a rock star, a folk hero. Not everyone can do it. But you can.

The following too many lines are for all those who have been taunted and rewarded by the art in their lives.

I listen to a lot of music, but I never have thought I could be John Coltrane, Otis Reading, or even Kurt Cobain. These icons were too tortured, too meta or just too plain brilliant. To me there is music that I listen to because I love it, but don't imagine myself on stage playing it, that being primarily jazz. Then there is music I listen to that I imagine myself flooring people with, that would be be rock.

I love the anatomy of a good rock song. Good rock to me has a strong hook, memorable, but not too infection lyrics, possibly a guitar solo and well placed noise or discordance. But more so, a good rock song ushers a mood and takes you beyond yourself.

In the last twenty years two groundbreaking albums which perfected these elements, among a few, were Nirvana's "Nevermind", possibly a perfect pop album as well, and Radiohead's "OK Computer".

As much as I love these albums, I never thought I could write them. Cobain's radio ready, but devastating songs are sourced from a place of alienation. This is not me. His catchy, but impolite guitar lines, particularly the game changing opening power chord riff at the beginning of "Smells Like Teen Spirit" ruined it for all the other singles that year and immediately became the anthem for all kids, disaffected or not. It's biggest accomplishment however, is that it is one of the few songs to incite mosh pits at Bar Mitzvah parties.

Radiohead's "OK Computer" is a cerebral and complete masterpiece that upped the ante for rock. The album boasts richly layered melodies, cinematic narratives, and some of the most unique crushing guitar work to-date. Thom Yorke's pained and beautiful voice captures dark bedroom melancholy, but just irreverent enough to keep us from bolting the door.

I fell in love with this album while listening to it repeatedly while on a bus commuting between the cities of Turrialba and San Jose, Costa Rica. The album became the perfect soundtrack for that trip, speaking to the wonder, distance and loneliness that I felt during those heady rides at night when the oblivion off the highway gave way to the gleaming lights of the central valley two thousand feet down from us.

But the songs stood in contrast to the the surroundings. This album comes from a harder, more critical and sardonic world than the one around me, which oddly made me feel less homesick. It also provided that medium in which I could ponder the existential musings of somebody just out of college - an act less satisfying with my emerging Spanish.

"OK Computer's" perfectionist patina presents an achievement just out of reach and holds back safely any tides of my regret or misgivings for not being on stage.

But I am not that safe. All I need to do is go no further than two listings up the iTunes alphabet to find a band that seductively reminds me that rockdom can be within reach.

The band is Pavement and the albums are its first two: "Slanted and Enchanted" and "Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain".

Pavement's sound and image are deceptively casual and without overarching ambition. Early photos of the band captured a motley bunch of non-threatening pranksters, that said to me, "Hey, that's me and my friends."

Their sound furthered that approachable illusion with its ironic and outsider attitude toward music and the business of rock. But these albums are not the product of stoner lightweights.

"Slanted " (1992) and "Crooked Rain" (1994) are powerful because they seem just thrown together, accidental, and tipsy, like live jam sessions familiar to me from college, but when listened to carefully, they reveal more and more purposeful and delicate arrangements. The band's sound is new, but quotes and comments on earlier music (The Fall, Joy Division, Pixies, Sonic Youth), a certain postmodern involvement with and distance from their work.

"Slanted and Enchanted" opens up with the single "Summer Babe (Winter Version)" introducing listeners to the band's low-fi but multi-layered fuzzy sound and the lead singer, Stephen Malkmus', off voice and funny Beat lyrics, "mixing cocktails with a plastic tip cigar".

The prettiest and most melodic song on the album is "Here", a down beat spare ballad that shows off Malkmus' two level range as he switches up an octave for the refrain.

"and all the Spanish candles have all gone to this and a 'run-on piece of mount on' trembles , shivers, run-on down the free way."

You kind of, but not really, know what he's talking about, but you love it anyway. So much of his lyrics fade between linear cogency and Dadist free form or referential story telling, like the song "Conduit for Sale".

When Malkmus "sings" as opposed to his flat talk-sing, it usually pairs with the catchy guitar hook that drops in among the almost chaotic busyness of their songs.

A great example of this is "Silent Kit" on "Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain", a terrific warm weather driving opening, full of hope and expanse, which all collapses on itself for a broke down ending.

The next song, "Elevate Me Later" continues with the stops and start momentum building theme. Again great in a car with the windows down.

"Cause you sleep with electric guitars, range roving with the cinema stars, but you wouldn't want to shake their hands because there in such a high protein land."

Or at least that's how I hear it. The line is playful and ironic, but smart- a combination that most middle class liberal arts college kids work on very hard. If their source material is not childhood pain but instead a healthy disdain for popularity, conventional success and all things banal, well then we're talking about Pavement.

I could run down the whole album, from the twisted Pixies-esque "Stop Breathing" to the the band's catchiest single, "Cut your Hair" or the lazy country anthem "Range Life", but this is not exactly an album review and here we are at the end of it.

This is all an attempt to explain why these two albums are dangerous for someone like me, when, as I said before, are played loudly late at night on an open road or in your headphones.

At first listen the members of Pavement do not sound like extraordinary musicians, and they weren't in comparison to their more polished peers. But the twisted beauty of these two albums and the band as a whole, is the nonchalant complexity. Simply put, they make it sound easy and immediate. At 3am the songs tell the musician fans "Right Now! You can do this!..... but most of you never will."

So what's the moral of the story come the next morning: more hard work and the struggle to channel that vision given to us by our late night heroes, be they sly slackers or clear perfectionists. That's what Malkmus and Yorke are doing, we hope.

Pulse and Glide Your Way to 109 MPGs

Hypermiling. It may be the 2008 word of the year. You heard that proclamation here first.

Hypermiling is the act of maximizing the miles per gallon of your car to the fullest extent possible. The current record of 109.3 mpgs was in a Toyota Hybrid over 1397 miles of road in and around Pittsburgh. The people competing for that record are known as Hypermilers, a nomenclature that can be applied to anybody, Hybrid owner or not, who aggressively stretches out the efficiency of their car.

Hypermiling is pretty much a process of driving behavioral modification. No more racing between lights to then slam on your brakes at the next red light. No more lugging unused bike racks or using trunks as storage. No more low tires.

And the biggest no more: air conditioning.

I had begun what I assumed was the first step to hypermiling, to maintain momentum and to keep braking to an absolute minimum, but really what I should be doing is to pulse and glide, as outlined in this article on Metrompg.com.

The gist of pulse and glide is to accelerate to 70 mph, switch to neutral and then shut your engine off until you reach 50 mph, then repeat. There are some definite obstacles relating to power steering and power brakes when shutting your engine off. Some of those practicalities are broached in this Wired article.

Extreme Hypermilers will push their car in neutral with the engine off and then turn it over once forward movement has been achieved so as to eliminate the "throw away" energy used to get moving from a stationary position.

This is something I want to see on alternate side of the street parking days in NYC.

Generation Fix

The Democratic Primary came to a close tonight in two very different places with two very separate futures for each candidate. Or maybe not so separate as the press is trying to have us believe (more on this to come).

Hillary Clinton: Baruch College, three stories below Lexington Avenue in a small claustrophobic gym, filled with die hard Clintonians, particularly that guy doing hand gestures to Bill. She thanked all, kept her plans to herself and gave Terry Mcauliff a few more days to do his stand-up routine.

Thirty minutes later and halfway across the nation...

Barack Obama: St. Paul, Xcel Stadium, 20,000 ecstatic people swelled as the first African-American candidate to claim the nomination of the Democratic Party fist pumps his elegant first lady worthy spouse.

Senator Obama recognized the strength of Senator Clinton and the historic nature of her own campaign, and then pounced on today's attacks made by Senator McCain. Once housekeeping was finished, Obama launched into what could have been his convention speech or even his inaugural.

His cadence rose and fell, leading the audience from one vista of the future to the next. Instead of covering all of his talking points and his platform, he focused on punchy declaratives regarding health care for all Americans, and ending the Iraq war.

Obama also clearly reminded us that he will be different and as an indictment to the politics and politicians of the past, his presidency and the America of today will be the era of problem solvers.

His most golden and unifying line of the night...."America this is our moment".

Documentary Review: "Bigger, Stronger, Faster"

The tagline of director Chris Bell's documentary on the (sub) culture of steroids is "the side effects of being American". That sweeping social indictment and much of the tone of this documentary follow Michael Moore's brand and his approach of including the narrator in the film as the curtain on media, merchandising and congressional subcommittees is pulled back. So it is no surprise, that, "Bigger, Stronger, Faster" was produced by two people behind Moore's "Bowling for Columbine" and "Fahrenheit 9/11".

In contrast to Moore's films however, Chris Bell's documentary is anchored by his personal and family's stories, and he puts much at risk through this offering. Bell used steroids for a period of time when weightlifting competitively and both of his brothers continue to use steroids to this day, mainly 'Test', synthetic testosterone. The film brings the viewer up close into struggle and self-deception that his brothers undergo as they attempt to deal with their drug use. Towards the end of the film Bell reveals to his mother on camera that he had regularly juiced and in fact it was her brother that first introduced the boys to steroids. More heartbreaking are the 'doping is for cheaters' mantra that the high school football players say their coach, one of the Bell brothers, nicknamed "Stinky", had instilled in them. (Hey team, don't watch this film!)

The documentary begins with a childhood montage in which we learn that for three brothers in the late 70's and early 80's the route to success and acceptance was to become larger and stronger than their peers. Their heroes: Arnold, Hogan and Stallone- Reagan era Cold War 'Strength through Greatest Fire Power'.

All three boys came into their own through weightlifting. The oldest brother, 'Maddog' played football for University of Cincinnati and later wrestled as a foil against the stars on WWF. Early on in life the brothers quickly learned that in order to compete they needed to juice. And when they learned that their heroes, Arnold, Hogan, Stallone, and most of the WWF had been juicing themselves, their disappointment hardened into the acceptance and adoption.

The science is presented loose and brief in regards the negative effects of steroid use. We do learn that among men most negative side effects reverse after discontinuing use, but among women, effects are longer lasting or permanent. But this is a film about ethics and choice.

Bell allows the pro-steroid community to articulate its case: steroids should be regulated, negativity is conflated by media, 'roid rage is a myth, cortisone is just as bad.

Among professional athletes (no ball players, sadly) we hear Floyd Landis and Ben Johnson defend their legacies. We are reminded that Carl Lewis, who emerged as a saint in the Seoul Olympics, tested positive for over the counter amphetamines found in cold medicine.

We also learn that in the weight lifting community, to not juice is to not be competitive. When Bell asks a lifting mentor what he thought about Stinky quiting steroids, the older man coolly commented that it was only a matter of time before his brother was back on the juice.

The film teases out, of course, the question as to whether we (American society) are to blame for the widespread use of steroids in competitive sports. Is our high pressure, numbers oriented, highest possible yield culture the culprit? If all the successful athletes are juicing, are you handicapping yourself if you play 'clean'? This argument is strongest in the context major league sports where injuries and just average output quickly end young careers.

A person with little conflict over this issue is one of the featured body builders and infamous juicer, Gregg Valentino. We had the treat of meeting him at the theater after the screening. He is well known for having the biggest biceps on earth, which became the iconic image of roid madness a few years ago when the media covered his arrest over selling steroids. Valentino, still huge, and eager to answer questions, encourages steroid use among lifters when they hit the age 30. As the majority of the crowd made their way out of the theater, Valentino had the last word as a huddle of young lifters lingered to ask questions and hear stories. His tag line which he repeated often was, "drop the reps, increase the dose".


"Bigger, Stronger, Faster", directed by Chris Bell and produced by Magnolia Pictures, 2008.

It's Tuesday Night again...What State and or Commonwealth am I thanking?

Tuesday night May 20th, it feels closer to March as the temperature dropped at Yanqui Stadium following the day's heavy rains. The Bombers lost before we even arrived at our seats in the top of the 2nd. Mike Mussina's glint of late career recovery is snuffed by eight runs in two innings of meltdown error and choke against his former team the O's.

Meanwhile in pundit pandemonium crazytown, the action in another pastime of self-punishment followed a predictable course of results: Oregon loves Obama, and Kentucky hates him ("dang copycats" said one West Virginian).

The tired dissection of Democrat demographics goes on (liberal educated vs. working class vs. blacks vs. women vs. latinos vs. whites vs. bullmastiff vs. pugs.). Obama supporters fret at what they (me) interpret as the racist, pre-electricity voting block in West Virginia and Kentucky (Sorry, CBM).

I mean, Obama losing by 10 percent in PA and Ohio works out; but 41 percent in W.V, 35 percent in KY. Wow! Clinton really must have connected with their needs and values in a special and specific way.

As said by an Obama supporter late one night this weekend..."they're (W.V & KY) just not wanted."

Tonight became yet another dangerous dose of enabling for the New York Senator who is on track to high-jack the Democratic party come two weeks from now at its weekend retreat.

Will Ted Kennedy rise to outmatch and out scream Terry Mcauliffe? Godspeed.

So we're off to Puerto Rico (?) for our next battleground in time for the winner to ride on a float down 5th Avenue a week later in the PR Day Parade. Donors will be hiding upstairs in their Coops as is their annual tradition.

Fatigue level on these matters is high.

Now to solutions and insight from a Southern Dem. strategist named Mudcat.

Jim Web VP: Answer to Southern White and Foreign Affairs Problem?
Well, here's a petition from VA Progressive Blog Raising Kaine.

Post Script:
I promise I will get back to posting interesting, heartwarming, non-staggering works of genius about stories and ideas on things both big and small that are not related to the endless campaign.

Overheard the Day After North Carolina and Indiana

"Senator, we just raised another eight figures, so just hold steady, she's bound to drop out. Also, I found the number for that group we talked about. Yeah, the one that makes people disappear. They said he's meeting somebody in D.C today, should we intercept now?"

"Bill, call the bank and line up some more speaking engagements. I'm not stopping and I'm taking it all down with me."

"Senator McCain...It's Karl on line three with Rev. Wright. No, really. He says you guys need to talk."

Mitchell Commission Needed for Horse Racing?

Readers may note, or not as it turns out, that I have been devoting a lot of real estate to the Derby and the Eight Belles incident- and I'm not much of a racing fan or fanatic of horses.

Well, I'm at again today while cyclones devour Myanmar, Somalia descends into a total food crisis, and we approach two huge primaries in Indy and N.C. Perhaps it's the overwhelming magnitude of those global events or my fatigue of this gas tax nonsense, but it's really the sight of that filly collapsing and then being put down that got to me.

So here's the take away: The media discussion has turned towards systemic poor and irresponsible breeding, speed over durability. There is also an indictment of pain killer and drug use within the industry, the effects of which mask pain and poor heredity with the animals, not to say also enhance performance.

William Rhoden of the Times is calling horse racing animal cruelty, just as bad as greyhound racing.

Here's a lively debate between Rhoden and Washington Post's Andrew Beyer on the Newshour tonight. A great listen.

ESPN's Pat Forde's call for the sport to examine itself.

This is horse racing blogger Railbird's take on it. Spoiler alert... She's moved on. To the Preakness.

Why was Eight Belles euthanized? We learn why from the same reasons Barbaro was put down.

Answer: It's a horse anatomy issue.