I was in Brooklyn on Friday, hotbed for Modern American Hipster Culture. You know what? Call them what you will, that place felt like, and was for a few years, home for me. But that's not the purpose of this entry.
One of the many people I was hanging out with in Brooklyn was my friend Fernando, a punk rock fellow I've known since 2003 when we were hanging out at the Town Grind in Denville. We were at a delightful watering hole known as the Double Windsor, drinking the greatest beer I've ever tasted in my life.
So he asks me about my favorite beer, and I told him, well, this one, right now, that we're both drinking. And he says, would you consider this the Husker Du of beers? I was a bit taken aback, I'd never compared beer to music before, let alone, how do I compare a beer I like to one of my favorite bands of all time?
The question of what beer I would compare to Husker Du was never answered, BUT I found a far more appropriate comparison for the beer we were drinking. The beer we were drinking, I suppose I should share, is the 2011 edition of Goose Island Bourbon County Stout. It's a beer that is so heavy, so flavorful, and so strong that it takes a long time to drink. It's that intense. I struggled to find the words, because he was asking me to compare two things that, while related in very tangential ways, really don't have much to do with each other. After all, you experience them using different senses. One is strictly audible, the other experienced 80% through taste, 15% through smell, and 5% through sight. But I was able to figure it out.
I wound up finding one single, solitary song to compare this beer to, and it's a song that I would consider timeless but not at ALL for the impatient, superficial or faint of heart. That song is "Mountain Jam" by the Allman Brothers. It sounds a bit insane, but trust me, the comparison holds water, in my opinion.
The first thing that I have to say is that neither this beer nor the song is for everyone. In fact, a select few would seek either out. The Allmans have experienced great success throughout their career, mainly for being a band that has moved forward while still keeping the essentials of their sound intact. The most salient aspect of the band is their thirst for improvisational euphoria, and "Mountain Jam" is, in my opinion, the pinnacle of this spirit. I'm moving away from the beer here, but beer snobbery is not the point of this. Rather, it was the comparison I drew (which, I swear, I'm getting to).
Anyway, the thing about the greatness of the song in question partially lay in the fact that it is a song for true fans only, true music fans, and those who truly appreciate the band's mission statement. The song is a bit of a deep cut, if considered a classic. It's a staple of their live show, with good reason. There is SO MUCH going on in that song. The melody is instantly recognizable. And it truly exhibits the depth of their talents, as individuals and as one unified band. It takes a certain type of person to be able to sit through the whole song. It's 33 minutes long. Thankfully it's broken into sections and solos, but I believe that it holds up as a great single opus. To me it represents a near perfection of musicianship. A command of song-craft, an ability to tweak someone else's musical ideas to your own will, and an adventurous and experimental spirit all coincide to create something truly great. While neither guitar player who appeared on the original live take remains in the band, the fact that they established such a remarkable musical presence is all that is needed to be considered when admiring the merits of this song, both on the "Eat A Peach" take and also in their current incarnation. The spirit of improvisation, the necessity of being a skilled and tasteful musician, and that adventurous spirit.
The song is an EVENT. Anyone with 33 minutes of spare time should try to listen to it, but not everyone who does will be able to get through the whole thing. The best version, by far, is the Filmore East outtake from Eat a Peach. Like the rest of the Filmore East performances, the sweat dripping from the players' faces is nearly audible, and very much visible in the mind's eye. The work that they would put into their performances is legendary, and still very much a part of them as a touring entity.
While it is an event, it is only an event to be enjoyed on a very limited basis. There are only so many times that one can listen to this musical powerhouse. There is so much going on, and there is so much history behind the song, and by no means is it an easily digestible pop song.
I wish to the gods that I could remember all of what I had told Fernando about this song, and express that all here, but suffice it to say, I would have to put this song on my all time favorites list because of its musical depth, it's requirements of patience and focus, and the sheer power of the band as a musical force. I can't listen to it every day, and one should not. However, repeated listens will always reward the listener with new and different sonic layers.
This entry was not as focused and well thought out. The main point is this: I love writing about music, and at Fernando's behest, I did the best I could to write about this based on his urging that I move forward with writing about music. After listening to me rant, he expressed his sincerest admiration for how I said what I did about the song (and the beer), and basically threatened me with disembowelment if I did not continue. So here you go. This is my return to music blogging. It has nothing to do with journalism, or criticism, or anything like that, but it is me expressing, in my possibly psychotic way, how music makes me feel, and how it impacts my life, and how it is nearly ALWAYS the first thing that I think of. I promise, something more coherent will come about in the future. So, thanks, Fid, for giving me a solid kick in the ass to do this thing that apparently some people know how to appreciate.
Monday, November 12, 2012
Sunday, September 25, 2011
RiotFest...
I hope I never get too old
To the point where seeing
Some of my favorite bands play
And scream along to some of my favorite songs of all time
And I leave a show not dripping sweat with a hoarse voice
When I wake up in the morning after such a show
That I can barely move
But every painful turn of my head
Isn't worth it
I hope I never get too old
That screaming along to "Trusty Chords"
Doesn't make me forget about all of life's troubles
That seeing Samiam
Doesn't remind me what made me love them back when I was 17
That getting hit in the face because I'm too close to the pit
Or in the pit itself
Makes me shudder and think to myself
This is beneath me
That when some stranger has his arm around you
While you're belting out songs along with the rest of the crowd
Doesn't make you forget that this is music you love more than any other
I never want to not be able to rage in a circle of punks
And I never want to NOT risk injury
To protect other people from unwanted flailing arms
I love punk rock
I will always love punk rock
I always want to be able to feel
That screaming my abdominals into soreness
is some sort of catharsis
And a break from cubicle chattle
I never want to be too old
That the fact that I can't speak
Because I am so hoarse and my voice is shot from screaming/shouting/singing along
Doesn't speak for itself
I always want to know
What it feels like to be surrounded by strangers
Who love the same things you love
But it's even better because you're with
A few people who always felt, and still always feel
The same way that I do
I loved RiotFest. I love Fernando, and Dave, and Amanda, for this weekend. I love Hot Water Music, and the Holy Mess, and Samiam, and the Menzingers, and Larry & His Flask, and the Suicide Machines, and everyone else who I saw at RiotFest. I love every feeling that I had on Saturday, INCLUDING getting hit in the face, and having dudes nearly crush my elbow.
I love punk rock, and I love being a punk.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Pretense is dead; long live pretense
I was on the metro going back to my apartment from a friend's in Friendship Heights. At the Tenleytown-AU station a whole cadre of young AU freshmen hopped on. My first reaction was holy crap was I really that young? Did I really look that young? They looked like high schoolers! But now it has me thinking about what I learned once I got to American. I became acutely aware of indie hipsters, scenesters, whatever you want to call them. I was suddenly thrust into a world of irony and pretension.
My main problem with these hipsters, I've come to see, is an issue of being somewhat disingenuous despite a claim to be so advanced and cultured. In the indie rock world is a high level of pretension. The goal seemed, at this time, to do things just for the sake of appearance. Band were arty, without being "good," for the sake of appealing to the overeducated and overexposed people that I came across in those early days. Early days, jeebus I'm starting to sound like an old man. With this artiness came a seeming lack of passion in whatever the practitioners were doing. So many of the hipsters just seemed to not care about what it was they were doing or listening to or experiencing, almost to prove that they were so much cooler than anyone else they were surrounded by, despite claiming that it was something they truly enjoyed. A lot of times they were ex punk rock kids who, once they reached a certain age, decided that it wasn't "cool" enough. Maybe I'm overly sensitive, especially when you look at my previous entry where I fawned like a school girl over London Calling.
For me, there should never be anything ironic about music, and there should never be a pretense about being blase about something that is meant to invoke strong emotion. For me, if you like something, there is no reason to pretend not to, or to pretend to like it ironically. The worst is to pretend to be dispassionate about anything, ESPECIALLY music. When done right in my mind, the musician is expressing how they truly feel and it should come out in the music. He or she is sharing their passion with those who care to listen to it. It's insulting, if you ask me, to devalue what the artist has done. And those who create art with such a seemingly lukewarm attitude is an insult to the art itself. If you love a band, don't say "oh yeah, they're PRETTY rad," say "That is a great band." And if you don't love a band, don't fake it to fit in to be cool or hip. ESPECIALLY if you dislike a band. Journey is a hip band to like ironically. I hate Journey. I'll never pretend to like Journey to fit in with the skinny jeans wearin' folks at Wonderland Ballroom who try to lead a full bar in a chorus of "Don't Stop Believin'".
I hope they didn't actually lose their passion for music the way many of them seem to have. I hope I never lose my passion for music or great art or great film. I hope I don't lose my love for tacky shit I actually enjoy. Music has been what keeps me going on good days and bad, and if I lost this passion what else would I have? What else would I have if "It's Hard to Know" by Hot Water Music DIDN'T make me grab my shirt and belt out the final choruses of "Live your heart and never follow?" The last thing I want to be is a disingenuous drone who pretends for the sake of being cool. I would be a let down to myself and isn't that the worst thing in the world to think of?
Music is a very special thing, and it irritates me when people devalue it for the sake of being hip. Don't lie to yourself or others about what hits you in your gut when you hear or see it. Zealots of the indie world are just as bad as the shallow tastemakers of pop radio and MTV.
My main problem with these hipsters, I've come to see, is an issue of being somewhat disingenuous despite a claim to be so advanced and cultured. In the indie rock world is a high level of pretension. The goal seemed, at this time, to do things just for the sake of appearance. Band were arty, without being "good," for the sake of appealing to the overeducated and overexposed people that I came across in those early days. Early days, jeebus I'm starting to sound like an old man. With this artiness came a seeming lack of passion in whatever the practitioners were doing. So many of the hipsters just seemed to not care about what it was they were doing or listening to or experiencing, almost to prove that they were so much cooler than anyone else they were surrounded by, despite claiming that it was something they truly enjoyed. A lot of times they were ex punk rock kids who, once they reached a certain age, decided that it wasn't "cool" enough. Maybe I'm overly sensitive, especially when you look at my previous entry where I fawned like a school girl over London Calling.
For me, there should never be anything ironic about music, and there should never be a pretense about being blase about something that is meant to invoke strong emotion. For me, if you like something, there is no reason to pretend not to, or to pretend to like it ironically. The worst is to pretend to be dispassionate about anything, ESPECIALLY music. When done right in my mind, the musician is expressing how they truly feel and it should come out in the music. He or she is sharing their passion with those who care to listen to it. It's insulting, if you ask me, to devalue what the artist has done. And those who create art with such a seemingly lukewarm attitude is an insult to the art itself. If you love a band, don't say "oh yeah, they're PRETTY rad," say "That is a great band." And if you don't love a band, don't fake it to fit in to be cool or hip. ESPECIALLY if you dislike a band. Journey is a hip band to like ironically. I hate Journey. I'll never pretend to like Journey to fit in with the skinny jeans wearin' folks at Wonderland Ballroom who try to lead a full bar in a chorus of "Don't Stop Believin'".
I hope they didn't actually lose their passion for music the way many of them seem to have. I hope I never lose my passion for music or great art or great film. I hope I don't lose my love for tacky shit I actually enjoy. Music has been what keeps me going on good days and bad, and if I lost this passion what else would I have? What else would I have if "It's Hard to Know" by Hot Water Music DIDN'T make me grab my shirt and belt out the final choruses of "Live your heart and never follow?" The last thing I want to be is a disingenuous drone who pretends for the sake of being cool. I would be a let down to myself and isn't that the worst thing in the world to think of?
Music is a very special thing, and it irritates me when people devalue it for the sake of being hip. Don't lie to yourself or others about what hits you in your gut when you hear or see it. Zealots of the indie world are just as bad as the shallow tastemakers of pop radio and MTV.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
More Rock and Roll Ramblings
I've written about the Clash's London Calling before, and it looks like I'll be writing about it again. I was at work today and I was walking to pick up lunch for me and my boss, so I was listening to my iPod as I do. Then, the song "Death Or Glory" off the aforementioned record came on. This is very quickly becoming my favorite song on a record full of killers, and there are lots of reasons why this album remains in my all time top ten desert island records.
First of all, it's an adventurous records. The Clash were a punk band that was never tied down by ANY genre conventions, experimenting with reggae, rockabilly, pop, jazz, etc. Actually, they did not just experiment, they truly went into each style, and yet they approached EVERYTHING with an attitude and intensity that made them more punk than the Sex Pistols, the Ramones, the Damned, and every other punk band in that critical era of gestation. They were then, and they still remain, THE quintessential punk band as far as I am concerned. They were angry and full of fire, like all good punk bands, but they radiated constructive fury, positive thinking and idealistic outlook that was missing in those early days and it really came out on the London Calling record. I've listened to that record for ten years and it remains as vital and influential to me as it did when I was a 14 year old twerp trusting his cool uncle's musical taste.
Ten years is a long time to listen to one record, and for it to be as important at 24 as it was when you were 14 is testament to the power. There are a lot of memories that I hold in so many of those songs.
The title track was my first introduction to the record, of course. The opening chords stab the ears with propulsive, incisive force and only hint at the bleak imagery that was hinted at in the lyrics. The music video which I saw much later is such a dark video that it may as well have been shot intentionally in black and white. Strummer, Simonon and Jones moved in the lock step fashion of front line soldiers, shouting out the title as if they were barking orders. When you're 14 years old and your main definition of what punk is is bands like Green Day, Nirvana, Blink 182 or in my case the Lower East Side Stitches (thanks Julie!), you expect punk music to be a wall of distorted guitars at breakneck speed, and yet here was a song that was slowed down with lots of space between the chords. My memories of this song include diving into the record on my discman on the bus to and from school and it was the national anthem I wanted to hear before class started. It was the song that woke me up in the morning and it was the song I always wanted to hear before I fell asleep. It was the song that played in my head constantly as I was getting ready to move to London for the fall of 2006. It was the song that I sang out loud on a boat on the Thames River at night. Thankfully it wasn't raining, but I stood on that boat deck, and 20 years old, I was still playing air guitar and moving side to side in rhythm with the music. It was the song Daniel and I cranked up as we pulled out of the car park on Gardiner Close in Ponders End, the address of Robbins Hall at Middlesex University, at the end of our all-too-brief three month friendship. It is a song that brings back memories, yet it is a song that could easily foreshadow our future as a civilization and it is a song that STILL lets me know that as a musician I have a LONG way to go. This song is the reason I still wear the same ratty, holey Clash tshirt I bought when I was 15.
London Calling also gave me my first taste of rockabilly with "Brand New Cadillac." The opening guitar line alone instantly transformed me back in those days into a '50s greaser and whenever I put on my black jeans, Speed Kings bowling shirt and Converse All Stars, that was the song that I always had in the back of my mind. When I was 14, 15 years old I was pretty uncool in the grand scheme of high school, and this was the song that made me realize that what the others thought was "cool" didn't matter. If the Clash wasn't cool, then I didn't want to be cool, and this was the song that gave me that courage.
"Jimmy Jazz," "Hateful," and "Spanish Bombs" are all killer tracks, and there is nothing bad anyone can say about that. "Rudie Can't Fail," though, is a standout among the next few. This was my first taste thought I didn't really know it at the time of ska music that wasn't slicked up pop rock on MTV or fluffy horseshit shoved down the throats of young christian teenagers. In college, at a punk show on campus, this was a song chosen by a fellow named Hunter for the four of us to cover. A certain fellow decided to put together a band with three other people he knew, in addition to himself. He would play bass, Hunter would play drums, Jessica would sing and I would play guitar. I'd known Josh from two or three other times I hung out with him, and this was the first time we really got to swap stories, so he decided to form a band with a few of us. It never went anywhere, but me and Josh still constantly got together and jam that year on the songs we wanted to play. He became one of the best friends I had through college and he remains one of my best friends to this day. This song, in a way, is the song on London Calling that is the reason we became the friends we are today.
Josh and I would later do a radio show that year, and of course cuts from London Calling were played all the time. One song in particular that was played a great deal was "I'm Not Down," and this song has since become the musical symbol of my close friend. It's one of his personal favorites, and it is also a song that truly encapsulates who he is as a person. Most people know Josh as a very friendly, outgoing character that is always in a cheerful mood and that is who he is the vast majority of the time. Though you can't be close friends with someone and see them only in one light the whole time. Real friends see each others ups and downs. You have fun at concerts and parties with them, but you're also with them late at night, listening to feelings about ex-girlfriends, breakups, fights, futility of life, and failed political campaigns that meant so much at the time. I remember seeing Josh in low states, and he always came back, pushing ahead with his gung ho attitude, looking for the next outlet for our energy. THIS song IS Josh because no matter how low I've seen him, how "down" he may be, never stayed there for very long, and he still rises quickly, and makes sure that you are up there with him. One of my favorite songs for one of my favorite people.
Which brings me to "Death or Glory." Don't let the nihilistic/fatalistic title fool you. This song is full of life and zeal and brings to my mind images of going for it, in whatever it is, with all of the power you can muster. As stated before this is quickly becoming my favorite song from one of my favorite albums ever. The Clash recorded this song with such a furious passion that it almost sounds like it was the last song the band ever played together, and in light of Joe Strummer's tragic death in 2002, sounds like he played it as if he felt it would be the last song he would ever record in his life. Thankfully this was not the case, but the song drips with sonic immortality, both for the band and for Strummer himself. OF the many things I would like to do musically in my lifetime, some day I would love to play this song to an audience and dedicate it not only to the memory of one of my heroes but also to the band, who in their own right, as a single entity, is my hero. It's a very powerful song, and of all the explosive songs on this album, this to me is the sonic encapsulation of the image on the front cover of bassist Paul Simonon smashing his bass on the stage of the Palladium. The two punctuating band hits at the beginning of the chorus is the initial impact and the echo of the bass smash. That musical moment is catharsis for everyone who faces a struggle head on, and despite the lyrics, it is the sound of one who struggles NOT for glory or death. It is a defiant statement in my mind. One image that is forever ingrained in my mind, I first saw in the summer of 2006 at the Mt. Olive skate park where my friends in Dead End Saints were playing a show. There was a punk rock dude, a bit older than me, who had the silhouette of the bass smash tattooed on his arm, under which was also tattooed "Death or Glory." There are few musical tattoos that truly blow my mind, and this above all else is the music tattoo that is cooler than all others, my own included (Sorry Jawbreaker). Much like that tattoo will always be with that unnamed punker at the Dead End Saints show, this song, this album, and that album cover will be with me until I follow Joe towards the outer reaches of the universe.
The Clash was hyped as "The Only Band that Matters," and this record, their magnum opus, was hailed as the "Album of the Eighties." The older I get, the more I believe that the hype men were right about the band. Nobody did more, in my opinion, for the rock and roll genre since the 1970s, to expand the sonic and idealistic palette of rock and roll, while still keeping their feet and their heads in the spirit of what rock and roll truly should be. Forget for a moment The Clash as a punk rock band, and think of them as a pure rock and roll band. There will never be a band like them again, and there never was a band like them before them. I must, however, quibble with the statement that London Calling was the album of the eighties. This is true, without a doubt. I didn't grow up then so I can't say for sure. Its influence was heard all through out the 1990s alternative rock and hearing my uncle regale me with his tales of The Clash on Christmas Day 1999, the day I got my first pair of Doc Martens, was a riveting close to the 90s. As for me, this album holds up as the album of the first decade of the new millennium. In essence, this is THE album of the past 30 years, and looking at bands like the Beatles and the Stones, I KNOW that this album will continue to shine as a beacon of brilliant art and raw guts for the next 30, and the 30 after that. I would like to take this time to thank the band for releasing this record, Joe Strummer for his role in the band and for the music he created in his lifetime. I was crushed when he died, and this album alone would be reason enough to lament the fact that this world is a little bit lamer without him. I'd like to express my gratitude and love for my friends with whom I've shared this record, and a love for this record, like Dan and Josh. Most of all I have to give recognition to the reason for the fact that I love this album so much. If my Uncle Pat did not speak of this album so highly, to a budding young punk in fresh combat boots, I don't think I would be the person that I am today. I don't know who I'd be, what I'd be doing, where I would be, if I did not trust the musical judgment of my godfather. He would later be the reason for my love of the Smiths and the Cure, and, along with my mother, the Allman Brothers Band. All of those amazing bands aside, the fact that he introduced me to London Calling by The Clash (among the other most excellent things he's done for me and my family) is the reason why I believe that I will some day make a fantastic uncle to some budding young rocker in the future. I can't thank my Uncle Pat enough, and I remain in his debt for this even AFTER buying him a London Calling t-shirt during my stay in London. I got so "rude and reckless" thanks to my Uncle Pat.
First of all, it's an adventurous records. The Clash were a punk band that was never tied down by ANY genre conventions, experimenting with reggae, rockabilly, pop, jazz, etc. Actually, they did not just experiment, they truly went into each style, and yet they approached EVERYTHING with an attitude and intensity that made them more punk than the Sex Pistols, the Ramones, the Damned, and every other punk band in that critical era of gestation. They were then, and they still remain, THE quintessential punk band as far as I am concerned. They were angry and full of fire, like all good punk bands, but they radiated constructive fury, positive thinking and idealistic outlook that was missing in those early days and it really came out on the London Calling record. I've listened to that record for ten years and it remains as vital and influential to me as it did when I was a 14 year old twerp trusting his cool uncle's musical taste.
Ten years is a long time to listen to one record, and for it to be as important at 24 as it was when you were 14 is testament to the power. There are a lot of memories that I hold in so many of those songs.
The title track was my first introduction to the record, of course. The opening chords stab the ears with propulsive, incisive force and only hint at the bleak imagery that was hinted at in the lyrics. The music video which I saw much later is such a dark video that it may as well have been shot intentionally in black and white. Strummer, Simonon and Jones moved in the lock step fashion of front line soldiers, shouting out the title as if they were barking orders. When you're 14 years old and your main definition of what punk is is bands like Green Day, Nirvana, Blink 182 or in my case the Lower East Side Stitches (thanks Julie!), you expect punk music to be a wall of distorted guitars at breakneck speed, and yet here was a song that was slowed down with lots of space between the chords. My memories of this song include diving into the record on my discman on the bus to and from school and it was the national anthem I wanted to hear before class started. It was the song that woke me up in the morning and it was the song I always wanted to hear before I fell asleep. It was the song that played in my head constantly as I was getting ready to move to London for the fall of 2006. It was the song that I sang out loud on a boat on the Thames River at night. Thankfully it wasn't raining, but I stood on that boat deck, and 20 years old, I was still playing air guitar and moving side to side in rhythm with the music. It was the song Daniel and I cranked up as we pulled out of the car park on Gardiner Close in Ponders End, the address of Robbins Hall at Middlesex University, at the end of our all-too-brief three month friendship. It is a song that brings back memories, yet it is a song that could easily foreshadow our future as a civilization and it is a song that STILL lets me know that as a musician I have a LONG way to go. This song is the reason I still wear the same ratty, holey Clash tshirt I bought when I was 15.
London Calling also gave me my first taste of rockabilly with "Brand New Cadillac." The opening guitar line alone instantly transformed me back in those days into a '50s greaser and whenever I put on my black jeans, Speed Kings bowling shirt and Converse All Stars, that was the song that I always had in the back of my mind. When I was 14, 15 years old I was pretty uncool in the grand scheme of high school, and this was the song that made me realize that what the others thought was "cool" didn't matter. If the Clash wasn't cool, then I didn't want to be cool, and this was the song that gave me that courage.
"Jimmy Jazz," "Hateful," and "Spanish Bombs" are all killer tracks, and there is nothing bad anyone can say about that. "Rudie Can't Fail," though, is a standout among the next few. This was my first taste thought I didn't really know it at the time of ska music that wasn't slicked up pop rock on MTV or fluffy horseshit shoved down the throats of young christian teenagers. In college, at a punk show on campus, this was a song chosen by a fellow named Hunter for the four of us to cover. A certain fellow decided to put together a band with three other people he knew, in addition to himself. He would play bass, Hunter would play drums, Jessica would sing and I would play guitar. I'd known Josh from two or three other times I hung out with him, and this was the first time we really got to swap stories, so he decided to form a band with a few of us. It never went anywhere, but me and Josh still constantly got together and jam that year on the songs we wanted to play. He became one of the best friends I had through college and he remains one of my best friends to this day. This song, in a way, is the song on London Calling that is the reason we became the friends we are today.
Josh and I would later do a radio show that year, and of course cuts from London Calling were played all the time. One song in particular that was played a great deal was "I'm Not Down," and this song has since become the musical symbol of my close friend. It's one of his personal favorites, and it is also a song that truly encapsulates who he is as a person. Most people know Josh as a very friendly, outgoing character that is always in a cheerful mood and that is who he is the vast majority of the time. Though you can't be close friends with someone and see them only in one light the whole time. Real friends see each others ups and downs. You have fun at concerts and parties with them, but you're also with them late at night, listening to feelings about ex-girlfriends, breakups, fights, futility of life, and failed political campaigns that meant so much at the time. I remember seeing Josh in low states, and he always came back, pushing ahead with his gung ho attitude, looking for the next outlet for our energy. THIS song IS Josh because no matter how low I've seen him, how "down" he may be, never stayed there for very long, and he still rises quickly, and makes sure that you are up there with him. One of my favorite songs for one of my favorite people.
Which brings me to "Death or Glory." Don't let the nihilistic/fatalistic title fool you. This song is full of life and zeal and brings to my mind images of going for it, in whatever it is, with all of the power you can muster. As stated before this is quickly becoming my favorite song from one of my favorite albums ever. The Clash recorded this song with such a furious passion that it almost sounds like it was the last song the band ever played together, and in light of Joe Strummer's tragic death in 2002, sounds like he played it as if he felt it would be the last song he would ever record in his life. Thankfully this was not the case, but the song drips with sonic immortality, both for the band and for Strummer himself. OF the many things I would like to do musically in my lifetime, some day I would love to play this song to an audience and dedicate it not only to the memory of one of my heroes but also to the band, who in their own right, as a single entity, is my hero. It's a very powerful song, and of all the explosive songs on this album, this to me is the sonic encapsulation of the image on the front cover of bassist Paul Simonon smashing his bass on the stage of the Palladium. The two punctuating band hits at the beginning of the chorus is the initial impact and the echo of the bass smash. That musical moment is catharsis for everyone who faces a struggle head on, and despite the lyrics, it is the sound of one who struggles NOT for glory or death. It is a defiant statement in my mind. One image that is forever ingrained in my mind, I first saw in the summer of 2006 at the Mt. Olive skate park where my friends in Dead End Saints were playing a show. There was a punk rock dude, a bit older than me, who had the silhouette of the bass smash tattooed on his arm, under which was also tattooed "Death or Glory." There are few musical tattoos that truly blow my mind, and this above all else is the music tattoo that is cooler than all others, my own included (Sorry Jawbreaker). Much like that tattoo will always be with that unnamed punker at the Dead End Saints show, this song, this album, and that album cover will be with me until I follow Joe towards the outer reaches of the universe.
The Clash was hyped as "The Only Band that Matters," and this record, their magnum opus, was hailed as the "Album of the Eighties." The older I get, the more I believe that the hype men were right about the band. Nobody did more, in my opinion, for the rock and roll genre since the 1970s, to expand the sonic and idealistic palette of rock and roll, while still keeping their feet and their heads in the spirit of what rock and roll truly should be. Forget for a moment The Clash as a punk rock band, and think of them as a pure rock and roll band. There will never be a band like them again, and there never was a band like them before them. I must, however, quibble with the statement that London Calling was the album of the eighties. This is true, without a doubt. I didn't grow up then so I can't say for sure. Its influence was heard all through out the 1990s alternative rock and hearing my uncle regale me with his tales of The Clash on Christmas Day 1999, the day I got my first pair of Doc Martens, was a riveting close to the 90s. As for me, this album holds up as the album of the first decade of the new millennium. In essence, this is THE album of the past 30 years, and looking at bands like the Beatles and the Stones, I KNOW that this album will continue to shine as a beacon of brilliant art and raw guts for the next 30, and the 30 after that. I would like to take this time to thank the band for releasing this record, Joe Strummer for his role in the band and for the music he created in his lifetime. I was crushed when he died, and this album alone would be reason enough to lament the fact that this world is a little bit lamer without him. I'd like to express my gratitude and love for my friends with whom I've shared this record, and a love for this record, like Dan and Josh. Most of all I have to give recognition to the reason for the fact that I love this album so much. If my Uncle Pat did not speak of this album so highly, to a budding young punk in fresh combat boots, I don't think I would be the person that I am today. I don't know who I'd be, what I'd be doing, where I would be, if I did not trust the musical judgment of my godfather. He would later be the reason for my love of the Smiths and the Cure, and, along with my mother, the Allman Brothers Band. All of those amazing bands aside, the fact that he introduced me to London Calling by The Clash (among the other most excellent things he's done for me and my family) is the reason why I believe that I will some day make a fantastic uncle to some budding young rocker in the future. I can't thank my Uncle Pat enough, and I remain in his debt for this even AFTER buying him a London Calling t-shirt during my stay in London. I got so "rude and reckless" thanks to my Uncle Pat.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Before my brain and writing atrophies....
Yes, it has been a very long time since I've written here and for some reason I felt the need to do some more writing about music.
I have opinions, like everyone does, about a lot of things. I have opinions about politics, religion, ethics, movies, books, sports, food...basically everything you can have an opinion on, I have an opinion on it. And yet, I find that most of my opinionated brain power is dedicated to expressing my opinions, thoughts, feelings, etc about music in its various forms. In the grand scheme of life itself I know a lot of people will debate really how important it is to spend so much brain power diving headlong into your favorite songs, and really dissecting them from a musical, lyrical, visual, and emotional standpoint.
I can never get my head around the concept of someone who enjoys music in a purely background noise manner, or whose only connection to a favorite song is a pleasing sound or a danceable beat. There's nothing wrong with it but it's something that I can't ever bring myself to understand. For me, this stopped being the case I'd say a good 15 years ago, and it became the focal point of my life, where I would make sure that every night I would be able to listen to my little red stereo with the hope to hear my favorite songs. I suppose this all-consuming rock and roll obsession started from a desire to hear songs I thought just sounded cool- it truly became so much more than that in my life.
Thankfully I started at a young age and the music was already there when I started growing up. Growing up in white picket fence suburbia there were all sorts of expectations on everyone, and as those of you who know me already have learned I rejected those expectations, for one reason or another. Or they rejected me, I don't know. Regardless, whenever shitty things in life happen we turn to certain things for comfort or explanation or just to make sense of things. Some turn to religion, and that never made sense to me. Raised Catholic, I never got any sense of comfort from "religion" or "faith" in a "god figure"; scripture passages I don't think were written for awkward teenagers trying to navigate hostile environments like gym class, school dances, breakups, struggles with identity, etc. etc. What always made sense to me was playing, and listening to, music. Comfort came from music in so many different ways. In high school when I realized I had no interest in sports or the big popularity contest that high school was, I took comfort listening to Social Distortion. I took comfort in hearing that Mike Ness felt the same way when he was my age. When I was fed up with the sociopolitical apathy of my high school peers, I took comfort in knowing that there were artists who were just as angry and were talking about it. Joe Strummer and Zach De La Rocha validated my then-misguided anger. When I struggled with peer alienation and felt out of step with most people I knew, Dropkick Murphys gave me hope that some day, somewhere, I would find friends who would pick me up when I was down, and make me want to keep going at things full speed ahead. When I was overcome with bitterness and hurting, music by Jawbreaker told me that the same shit has happened to other people before, everywhere, and that it was normal and okay for me to feel slighted and angry, yet confused. I was able to find meaning in all of those songs that struck me in the right place at the right time, and somehow being able to relate to these musicians, I found a comfort that transformed into a strength, an inspiration. If there's one thing that ties all these artists together, named and unnamed, it's that at some point they were out of step with their peers, and struggling to find their own meaning in the events of their lives. They needed a way to make sense of what they saw and felt.
I'm fortunate in that I can make my own music, and it serves the same purpose now as all those songs in the past did, and that many of them still do.
Inspiration to write comes at the stupidest times...
I have opinions, like everyone does, about a lot of things. I have opinions about politics, religion, ethics, movies, books, sports, food...basically everything you can have an opinion on, I have an opinion on it. And yet, I find that most of my opinionated brain power is dedicated to expressing my opinions, thoughts, feelings, etc about music in its various forms. In the grand scheme of life itself I know a lot of people will debate really how important it is to spend so much brain power diving headlong into your favorite songs, and really dissecting them from a musical, lyrical, visual, and emotional standpoint.
I can never get my head around the concept of someone who enjoys music in a purely background noise manner, or whose only connection to a favorite song is a pleasing sound or a danceable beat. There's nothing wrong with it but it's something that I can't ever bring myself to understand. For me, this stopped being the case I'd say a good 15 years ago, and it became the focal point of my life, where I would make sure that every night I would be able to listen to my little red stereo with the hope to hear my favorite songs. I suppose this all-consuming rock and roll obsession started from a desire to hear songs I thought just sounded cool- it truly became so much more than that in my life.
Thankfully I started at a young age and the music was already there when I started growing up. Growing up in white picket fence suburbia there were all sorts of expectations on everyone, and as those of you who know me already have learned I rejected those expectations, for one reason or another. Or they rejected me, I don't know. Regardless, whenever shitty things in life happen we turn to certain things for comfort or explanation or just to make sense of things. Some turn to religion, and that never made sense to me. Raised Catholic, I never got any sense of comfort from "religion" or "faith" in a "god figure"; scripture passages I don't think were written for awkward teenagers trying to navigate hostile environments like gym class, school dances, breakups, struggles with identity, etc. etc. What always made sense to me was playing, and listening to, music. Comfort came from music in so many different ways. In high school when I realized I had no interest in sports or the big popularity contest that high school was, I took comfort listening to Social Distortion. I took comfort in hearing that Mike Ness felt the same way when he was my age. When I was fed up with the sociopolitical apathy of my high school peers, I took comfort in knowing that there were artists who were just as angry and were talking about it. Joe Strummer and Zach De La Rocha validated my then-misguided anger. When I struggled with peer alienation and felt out of step with most people I knew, Dropkick Murphys gave me hope that some day, somewhere, I would find friends who would pick me up when I was down, and make me want to keep going at things full speed ahead. When I was overcome with bitterness and hurting, music by Jawbreaker told me that the same shit has happened to other people before, everywhere, and that it was normal and okay for me to feel slighted and angry, yet confused. I was able to find meaning in all of those songs that struck me in the right place at the right time, and somehow being able to relate to these musicians, I found a comfort that transformed into a strength, an inspiration. If there's one thing that ties all these artists together, named and unnamed, it's that at some point they were out of step with their peers, and struggling to find their own meaning in the events of their lives. They needed a way to make sense of what they saw and felt.
I'm fortunate in that I can make my own music, and it serves the same purpose now as all those songs in the past did, and that many of them still do.
Inspiration to write comes at the stupidest times...
Monday, June 22, 2009
Inconsistent, yes. Insignificant? Maybe.
Well, here we are again, months between entries. But that's okay. This is something I do for shits and giggles, I'm not graded on it, I'm not paid to do it. Everything is always easier when you do it because you want to do it, not because you have to, not because you're expected to. But just because.
Occasionally something in my life will happen, be it political, social, cultural, artistic, that will give me something to say. Let me get this right off the bat before I get into the reason for this dispatch from CapCity
A) Tragedy struck the DC area today, as two trains collided on the metro near Fort Totten and Takoma Park. Six people are dead, and MANY more are injured, and my heart goes out to the families of those who've lost loved ones. As far as I know, nobody that I knew was involved; time will tell. Reminds me that, hey, bad things happen and we can't let ourselves forget that things can change in a second
B) Iran, the 800 pound gorilla in the room. It is a terrible thing to read every day that more die in street clashes because of a contested election. I want to hope that a revolution happens in Iran, that will bring the country into real democracy. However, this democracy can not come from the west. What changes happen in the country must come from within; One must remember that it was the United States who installed the Shah on what was a thriving democracy in the 1950s. It was this meddling that resulted in the reactionary Islamic Revolution and the subsequent hostage crisis. Humanitarian aid would be fine should the need arise; nothing more.
Anyway, enough of my current events opining and the time has come for me to discuss something that I have more than merely cursory knowledge of, and that is music.
Every now and then I get the cockamamie idea to listen to something that was, at one time in my life, highly influential, that I tend to have shifted away from in the ensuing years. Occasionally it holds up, occasionally it's difficult to listen to, but I never regret those albums, as they all had an effect on how I would hear music and think about music.
However, occasionally there is an album from the past that I will hear again, and realize how incredibly well it holds up. Today was one of those occasions, and that album is the 2002 Roadrunner Records debut from Massachusets-based metal/hardcore band Killswitch Engage, entitled Alive or Just Breathing. At the time this record was released, they were part of a scene that was only starting to rear its head in the American music scene, before America finally started producing quality metal bands again. Before then, the only good metal bands were European, or at least as far as I was concerned. Then I heard some music from their first album and thought KsE were Swedish.
Then came this record. I kind of expected a much more Swedish death metal sound, and was surprised when I heard riffs that were much closer to sounding a bit like hardcore bands like Hatebreed or Madball, but still had strong metal roots. This was before it became standard to combine tough-guy hardcore breakdowns and attitudes with metal riffage.
What really stuck out to me about Alive was how melodic and positive and spiritual it is. I mention the band Hatebreed; while a lot of their lyrics have a positive message hidden under lyrical bile, Killswitch's lyrics are so clearly born of a love, passion, and spiritual connection to the human race.
Original vocalist Jesse David Leach had something special that was at its best on this album, which proved to be his last with the band, as throat issues and family commitments forced him off the road. He was capable of blood-curdling shrieks, hell-hound growls, and one of the most wrenchingly beautiful singing voices ever heard in metal or hardcore. He combined all of these elements in such a way that takes this band and album far beyond anything released since, just in terms of emotional depth.
The musicianship is also astounding. From a guitarist's perspective, this album has some insanely muscular riffing that is equally galloping and stomping, savage and sweepingly melodic. This band also uses dynamics astoundingly well, opening three songs with gently strummed acoustic passages before letting loose with brutal modern riffs.
Often times, the guitars, bass and drums lock in on unison grooves that echo, to a certain extent, the machine-like precision of Fear Factory.
Now I would like to discuss one of the best-recorded heavy metal guitar tones of all time. Joel Stroetzl and Adam Dutkiewicz manage to have this GUT BUSTING guitar tone that does not fuzz out, it's not scooped out like lots of other metal bands, and it is so tight and articulate that even the fastest, lowest notes are distinguishable.
The rhythm section is also fantastic. Dutkiewicz, who I believe played most drums on the record, hits the double bass drums as well as the best death metal skinsman, and they propel the tracks into high gear.
Every song on this record is a keeper, full of chunky riffs, uplifting lyrics, and killer grooves and breakdowns. Somehow, they managed to find the perfect combination of horn-throwing metal and soul-clutching emotional hardcore. Tracks like "Numbered Days," "My Last Serenade," "Just Barely Breathing" and "Temple from Within" feel like life-affirming self-sacrifice, followed by being purified in crystal waters. It shreds the sould into sinewy strands before the ultimate healing.
The best song, by far, on the album, "The Element of One," is the culmination of everything great about this band. It begins with a gentle acoustic passage, that gives way into a hammering rhythmic chug, with a melodic yet savage lead guitar pattern, before a Tyranasaurus-sized riff and a harrowing growl from Leach gets the song going at maximum power. Meanwhile, Leach's lyrics proclaim his desire to see someone (supposedly his wife), and proclaiming his love for this entity. "This is for you," he shouts during the bridge, "Everything I am/This is for you/take it from me." Then, the band soars during the chorus as he commands, "Breathe me in, I'm forever, breathe me in, I'm eternal." Equally heart-rending and beautiful.
After a gorgeously whispered bridge behind an understated acoustic guitar pattern, a throat-shredding scream gives way to a palm-muted guitar melody that comes the closest to a guitar solo on this album that serves as the perfect crescendo to an amazing song, before an excellent bridge section that has the band channeling classic epic metal gallops of old. The song finally ends with a lone bass figure, and it would be no surprise if listeners were drenched in sweat after hearing this in their homes or their cars.
The album goes on after that, and the rest of the songs sound great. But this, in my opinion, was the song that made the album as influential on me and Dave as it was, and this was the song on the album that he and I listened to EVERY DAY as we went through Hardcore Puberty.
Needless to say, I think this album holds up incredibly well. Every song still gets me the way they did when I bought the album back in 2003, and this album stands up far beyond any of those other hardcore and "metalcore" records that I bought then and since. I feel it is safe to say that this record will always hold a place on my playlist, and may actually hold a place in my Desert Island Discs collection.
For fans of heavy, passionate and melodic metal/hardcore, this is the album that can not be beat and must be listened to.
Occasionally something in my life will happen, be it political, social, cultural, artistic, that will give me something to say. Let me get this right off the bat before I get into the reason for this dispatch from CapCity
A) Tragedy struck the DC area today, as two trains collided on the metro near Fort Totten and Takoma Park. Six people are dead, and MANY more are injured, and my heart goes out to the families of those who've lost loved ones. As far as I know, nobody that I knew was involved; time will tell. Reminds me that, hey, bad things happen and we can't let ourselves forget that things can change in a second
B) Iran, the 800 pound gorilla in the room. It is a terrible thing to read every day that more die in street clashes because of a contested election. I want to hope that a revolution happens in Iran, that will bring the country into real democracy. However, this democracy can not come from the west. What changes happen in the country must come from within; One must remember that it was the United States who installed the Shah on what was a thriving democracy in the 1950s. It was this meddling that resulted in the reactionary Islamic Revolution and the subsequent hostage crisis. Humanitarian aid would be fine should the need arise; nothing more.
Anyway, enough of my current events opining and the time has come for me to discuss something that I have more than merely cursory knowledge of, and that is music.
Every now and then I get the cockamamie idea to listen to something that was, at one time in my life, highly influential, that I tend to have shifted away from in the ensuing years. Occasionally it holds up, occasionally it's difficult to listen to, but I never regret those albums, as they all had an effect on how I would hear music and think about music.
However, occasionally there is an album from the past that I will hear again, and realize how incredibly well it holds up. Today was one of those occasions, and that album is the 2002 Roadrunner Records debut from Massachusets-based metal/hardcore band Killswitch Engage, entitled Alive or Just Breathing. At the time this record was released, they were part of a scene that was only starting to rear its head in the American music scene, before America finally started producing quality metal bands again. Before then, the only good metal bands were European, or at least as far as I was concerned. Then I heard some music from their first album and thought KsE were Swedish.
Then came this record. I kind of expected a much more Swedish death metal sound, and was surprised when I heard riffs that were much closer to sounding a bit like hardcore bands like Hatebreed or Madball, but still had strong metal roots. This was before it became standard to combine tough-guy hardcore breakdowns and attitudes with metal riffage.
What really stuck out to me about Alive was how melodic and positive and spiritual it is. I mention the band Hatebreed; while a lot of their lyrics have a positive message hidden under lyrical bile, Killswitch's lyrics are so clearly born of a love, passion, and spiritual connection to the human race.
Original vocalist Jesse David Leach had something special that was at its best on this album, which proved to be his last with the band, as throat issues and family commitments forced him off the road. He was capable of blood-curdling shrieks, hell-hound growls, and one of the most wrenchingly beautiful singing voices ever heard in metal or hardcore. He combined all of these elements in such a way that takes this band and album far beyond anything released since, just in terms of emotional depth.
The musicianship is also astounding. From a guitarist's perspective, this album has some insanely muscular riffing that is equally galloping and stomping, savage and sweepingly melodic. This band also uses dynamics astoundingly well, opening three songs with gently strummed acoustic passages before letting loose with brutal modern riffs.
Often times, the guitars, bass and drums lock in on unison grooves that echo, to a certain extent, the machine-like precision of Fear Factory.
Now I would like to discuss one of the best-recorded heavy metal guitar tones of all time. Joel Stroetzl and Adam Dutkiewicz manage to have this GUT BUSTING guitar tone that does not fuzz out, it's not scooped out like lots of other metal bands, and it is so tight and articulate that even the fastest, lowest notes are distinguishable.
The rhythm section is also fantastic. Dutkiewicz, who I believe played most drums on the record, hits the double bass drums as well as the best death metal skinsman, and they propel the tracks into high gear.
Every song on this record is a keeper, full of chunky riffs, uplifting lyrics, and killer grooves and breakdowns. Somehow, they managed to find the perfect combination of horn-throwing metal and soul-clutching emotional hardcore. Tracks like "Numbered Days," "My Last Serenade," "Just Barely Breathing" and "Temple from Within" feel like life-affirming self-sacrifice, followed by being purified in crystal waters. It shreds the sould into sinewy strands before the ultimate healing.
The best song, by far, on the album, "The Element of One," is the culmination of everything great about this band. It begins with a gentle acoustic passage, that gives way into a hammering rhythmic chug, with a melodic yet savage lead guitar pattern, before a Tyranasaurus-sized riff and a harrowing growl from Leach gets the song going at maximum power. Meanwhile, Leach's lyrics proclaim his desire to see someone (supposedly his wife), and proclaiming his love for this entity. "This is for you," he shouts during the bridge, "Everything I am/This is for you/take it from me." Then, the band soars during the chorus as he commands, "Breathe me in, I'm forever, breathe me in, I'm eternal." Equally heart-rending and beautiful.
After a gorgeously whispered bridge behind an understated acoustic guitar pattern, a throat-shredding scream gives way to a palm-muted guitar melody that comes the closest to a guitar solo on this album that serves as the perfect crescendo to an amazing song, before an excellent bridge section that has the band channeling classic epic metal gallops of old. The song finally ends with a lone bass figure, and it would be no surprise if listeners were drenched in sweat after hearing this in their homes or their cars.
The album goes on after that, and the rest of the songs sound great. But this, in my opinion, was the song that made the album as influential on me and Dave as it was, and this was the song on the album that he and I listened to EVERY DAY as we went through Hardcore Puberty.
Needless to say, I think this album holds up incredibly well. Every song still gets me the way they did when I bought the album back in 2003, and this album stands up far beyond any of those other hardcore and "metalcore" records that I bought then and since. I feel it is safe to say that this record will always hold a place on my playlist, and may actually hold a place in my Desert Island Discs collection.
For fans of heavy, passionate and melodic metal/hardcore, this is the album that can not be beat and must be listened to.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Federal TeaBagging
Yes, the title is crude. But anyway, that's besides the point.
I watched the news today and read the news and saw that lots of people unhappy with American tax policy were throwing Tea Parties across the country in protest.
I'm all for organized protest in showing discontent for screwed up federal policies. First of all, the tea parties during the 1700s were in protest of Taxation without REPRESENTATION. Last I checked, the only place in the country that is taxed without representation is Washington DC, a part of the country that has consistently vied for active representation in Congress, and has typically been shut down by the Republicans in the government.
The irony of this is that the tea parties were overwhelmingly a Republican and conservative action.
The main issue, as far as I can glean, surrounding said parties has been the bailouts of various financial institutions (and the auto industry) using taxpayer dollars. I understand that these institutions have dropped the ball regarding the money of the public and in that sense I am behind these protests. However, the initial bailouts were authorized by the greatest Reagan wannabe of all time, Mr. W. But that's not important. What is is that taxes are necessary. I have no problem paying taxes as long as they will benefit me and the people in the long run. I don't agree with my tax dollars paying for senseless wars, but I have yet to take the appropriate actions to make sure my money doesn't go towards military spending. Moving on...
Without taxes there's no money for education or roads or other worthwhile things. But, moving back towards the bailouts...
Federal funding for corporations bothers me a great deal, especially taxpayer dollars for corporations. But, at the same time, there needs to be accountability on the part of these institutions like AIG, Goldman Sachs, GM etc. GM needs to start making quality cars that are fuel efficient and actually work. If they did that they wouldn't need the bailouts. And, while the people who took bad loans for homes they could not afford share the blame, these ridiculous loans and mortgages should not have been offered from a moral standpoint. It was a clear example of exploitation. In addition, there needed to be stronger government oversight and regulation, and my hope is that the government support of these institutions will result in stronger regulation and avoid collapses like this in the future.
Yes, I'm a socialist from a practical standpoint. But I believe that in this day in age regulation is required in order to stem this profiteering bloodsucking that has plunged us into economic collapse.
Scattered, yes, but I'd like to think that my opinion and a buck fifty can get you a cup of coffee, whatever that means.
Happy tax day everyone in internetland!
I watched the news today and read the news and saw that lots of people unhappy with American tax policy were throwing Tea Parties across the country in protest.
I'm all for organized protest in showing discontent for screwed up federal policies. First of all, the tea parties during the 1700s were in protest of Taxation without REPRESENTATION. Last I checked, the only place in the country that is taxed without representation is Washington DC, a part of the country that has consistently vied for active representation in Congress, and has typically been shut down by the Republicans in the government.
The irony of this is that the tea parties were overwhelmingly a Republican and conservative action.
The main issue, as far as I can glean, surrounding said parties has been the bailouts of various financial institutions (and the auto industry) using taxpayer dollars. I understand that these institutions have dropped the ball regarding the money of the public and in that sense I am behind these protests. However, the initial bailouts were authorized by the greatest Reagan wannabe of all time, Mr. W. But that's not important. What is is that taxes are necessary. I have no problem paying taxes as long as they will benefit me and the people in the long run. I don't agree with my tax dollars paying for senseless wars, but I have yet to take the appropriate actions to make sure my money doesn't go towards military spending. Moving on...
Without taxes there's no money for education or roads or other worthwhile things. But, moving back towards the bailouts...
Federal funding for corporations bothers me a great deal, especially taxpayer dollars for corporations. But, at the same time, there needs to be accountability on the part of these institutions like AIG, Goldman Sachs, GM etc. GM needs to start making quality cars that are fuel efficient and actually work. If they did that they wouldn't need the bailouts. And, while the people who took bad loans for homes they could not afford share the blame, these ridiculous loans and mortgages should not have been offered from a moral standpoint. It was a clear example of exploitation. In addition, there needed to be stronger government oversight and regulation, and my hope is that the government support of these institutions will result in stronger regulation and avoid collapses like this in the future.
Yes, I'm a socialist from a practical standpoint. But I believe that in this day in age regulation is required in order to stem this profiteering bloodsucking that has plunged us into economic collapse.
Scattered, yes, but I'd like to think that my opinion and a buck fifty can get you a cup of coffee, whatever that means.
Happy tax day everyone in internetland!
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