The Black Lips - 9.19.07, New York, NY, Music Hall of Williamsburg

For all the legends and myths in circulation about the wild debauchery of The Black Lips’ performances, when the band played New York’s Music Hall of Williamsburg on September 19th, they were far more professional than their reputation would have you think. When, for instance, bassist/singer Jared Swilley’s bass broke, rather than letting the set lose momentum, the band continued to play while Swilley frantically corrected the problem. Once Swilley was back on the horse, he apologized for the technical hiccup. Granted, one might question if puking on stage is “professional”, but when guitarist/singer Cole Alexander vomited, it was ever-so-casual, the way most of us nonchalantly glance at our watches. Alexander’s mannerly barf aside, it was the crowd that was foaming and rabid.

Not only was the house teeming with girls in feathered headdresses and grown men dropping from the rafters (one almost hit Tim), but the show was covered by everyone from small time bloggers to CMJ. This is no doubt credit to the Vice media-conglomerate and hype machine. With VBS TV’s recent broadcast of the band’s misadventures in Israel, The Black Lips have the feel of the company’s house band. But the hype from Vice is warranted. The album Good Bad, Not Evil is not only The Black Lips shining moment thus far, but its Gonzo attitude, totally weird, nastily comic and politically charged nature, make it one of the best albums of the year, hands down.

And as for the live show, while the days of urinating in each other’s mouths may be behind the band in their new-found spotlight, The Black Lips put on one hell of show. As their albums have always hinted, the performance is a different beast than the record. The most mesmerizing part of the show was drummer and wild-arm, Joe Bradley. In a zone of his own, Bradley was a war-path-drum-freak, full of frantic screams, crazed “Ah-ha-ha-ha-has!” that were terrifying as hypnotic. A man possessed, Bradley alone made the concert.

Click here to see photos from the show.

Generally, on those occasions when I read something from the Bible my reaction is either, “Hmm, hmm . . . sage words,” or, “What kind of crack were these writers smoking and where can I get some?”

But I stumbled across the following yesterday while leafing through an old copy of The Magnificat given me a few years back, and was pretty impressed with the writing.

Whoever Qoheleth was he sure could paint a picture.

Remember your Creator in the days of your youth,
Before the evil days come
And the years approach of which you will say,
“I have no pleasure in them”;

Before the sun is darkened,
And the light, and the moon, and the stars,
While clouds return after the rain;

When the guardians of the house tremble,
And the strong men are bent,
And the grinders are idle because they are few,
And they who look to the windows grow blind;

When the doors to the street are shut,
And the sound of the mill is low;
When one waits for the chirp of a bird,
But all the daughters of song are suppressed;

And one fears heights,
And perils in the street;
When the almond tree blooms,
And the locust grows sluggish
And the caper berry is without effect,
Because man goes to his lasting home,
And mourners go about the streets;

Before the silver cord is snapped
And the golden bowl is broken,
And the pitcher is shattered at the spring,

And the broken pulley falls into the well,
And the dust returns to the earth as it once was,

And the life breath returns to the God who gave it.

“Vanity of vanities,” says Qoheleth,
“All things are vanity!”

- Ecclesiastes 12:1-8

Apparently this is also the origin of the “silvery cord” image adopted by occult literature and popular role-playing games. Who knew?

Reminiscent of Infantry fight system, and to show dramatic combat with guns, is the final fight scene to the movie Equilirium (2002) by Kurt Wimmer (major spoilers for those who haven’t seen it yet).

At least 20 shots fired and not a scratch on either guy. Notice how it was harder for John Preston to point and pull a trigger than it was for him to wrist-lock the gun from his opponent? That’s because it’s more dramatic that way. Guns are more tricky to pull this off without the dissolution of viewer disbelief (like Mike’s Commando note in the last comments). Wimmer, or whoever choreographed the fights, did a good job throughout the movie.

The two weren’t exchanging blows and deducting hit points. Instead, they were deducting each others’, as I put it in the last post, easily-replenish-able statuses.

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In this heartwarming tale of towering scientific minds, feeder mice, garbage pails and fruity booze, Princeton University’s Professor Bob Dumper switches his mind with Señor Franco, the mouse, in an attempt to win all the Nobel Prizes. Professor Dumper’s experiment is successful, but once completed he is unable to switch his and Señor Franco’s minds back. Soon Dumper’s IQ plummets while Señor Franco’s rockets to Algernonian proportions. In an ironic twist, Señor Franco goes on to win the first Nobel Prize ever for Quantum Mouse Theory, while the now mentally deficient Dumper takes to driving a garbage route in Ewing, NJ. Animousities ensue when Señor Franco starts sleeping with Dumper’s wife, Penelope Dumper. When Penelope is killed in a game of William Tell, however, Señor Franco and Dumper’s mutual loss brings them together. The two end up taking Dumper’s garbage truck to California on a wine-tasting, whoring romp.

Pastoral Photocopier

1

I look at that picture of Gary Snyder
Bent down on some trail, in some forest, in some outdoors
And I think
I wonder if Gary Snyder worried about health insurance
Had it
Or if the words were even part of his vocabulary

2

JAM Worried about death
JAM Worried about injuries
JAM Worried about babies
JAM Worried about a clean house
JAM Worried about getting a job
JAM Worried about all the junk
JAM Worried about what to be worried about

3

This is a meta-wasteland without faith
Numbers chart and shift
Meaningless Meaning
Practically Zen
A fractal of calm
Up the down the over
Eating pie
That sure tastes nice.

4

The man in the sweat pants
Chants they’ll need a committee
Lest the great institution crumbles.

5

Faith in photocopiers
That none can fathom
Yet everyone uses
From the bourgeois staff
To the great men of books
All babble at its mystery and bottomless depths
The chairs flounder when they discover charges
Of $16.80 for 112 copies
(The price of pride of all great men)
Call the committee
Bring in the man in sweat pants.

6

I spend 5 days, send various memos back and forth
$16.80 is less than 2 hours wages for me
For picking up a phone
Stamping paper and
Shepherding the oracle

7

It amazes me to think that Kerouac’s Japhy Ryde
Uses email.
I wrote him.
He said he was busy, but he was very polite.

Westminster Choir College
Wednesday, 10/3/07