End of Year post (probably)

The clock is ticking down to the end of my workday, and with it, the beginning of my long, paid vacation. I'm certainly not complaining, but I'll miss daily internet.

So, Christmas is almost here. Berto's coming home Friday. It will be good times with friends and family and I'm looking forward to it. Some wayward comrades are coming home, namely Copperhead and Zarana (featured in my Christmas message below). I'm very excited about seeing them both, and I am also psyched about Zarana moving back to the area. Ooooh, what a hottie.

I got most of my sincere Christmas spiel out of the way a few posts ago, so all I will add to that is that I hope you all have a peaceful and happy holiday. Enjoy time with the people you dig. Get wrecked on New Year's, but don't do anything to piss me off or I will totally send Storm Shadow over to your house with a garden trowel. And it won't be pretty.

Heh. Merry Christmas, y'all. And rock the new year.

From the C Train to the Shiny Tower

It was better than breakfast for me this morning when I opened the paper and saw all of Manhattan in gridlock. I know that may be a mean thing to say, and there are some very stand-up people who live in that town, but I'm in an aggressive mood and not five days ago that city screwed over my second-in-command. So I shriek loudly:

EAT SHIT, NEW YORK CITY!!!

There was an interview on the news this morning with a picketing transit worker who mouthed some nonsense about needing more pay and benefits and the like. If someone goes Reagan on their ass and fires all 33,000 of them, I wonder whether the MTA would have a tough time hiring new employees at the terms that the unions rejected? My money's on no.

I'm going to start abiding by a resolution, which happens to coincide with the coming of the New Year, will be to participate significantly less in the favor matrix. At least, in terms of owing favors.

D-Caf! D-Caf!

I got a 100 on my argument paper concerning eminent domain. I am feeling nice and loose, it's good to know I can still get the job done 2 years after college. Even if it is KnickKnack.

Dreadnok captain Zartan has posted a counterspiel over at his blog, scathing and well-written. What it amounts to is an outline of his battle plan against Christmas, complete with slam-dunk intelligence supporting the war and a well-detailed attack strategy.

I will say that if anyone has more of a gripe with platoons of errant NY/NJers wading around the area at the will of the Fifth Horseman of the Apocalypse (Suburban Sprawl, who rides a plywood steed) than I do, well, I will fight them to earn the title of Biggest Griper Vs. Platoons of Errant blah blah blah blah blah. I, too, worked as an entry-level food service employee during the holidays, actually working ON Christmas once, although it didn't grate on me quite as much as it did on my comrade. But it still sucks. Nevertheless...

I see a problem when Christmas music is ruined for someone by the realization that the artists who wrote it may have been interested more in money than in promoting the Christmas spirit. Now, cynicism is a valuable tool--doubt, and not having completely blind faith in human nature, is healthy. But virtue is defined by a mean between the vices of excess and deficiency, as determined by a rational principle such as a man of practical wisdom would use (that's right, I just got Nicomachean on your asses). In short, cynicism needs to be tempered by a willingness to, in the end, accept people and ideas that can prove themselves in the face of doubt.

So when Christmas music causes irritation and bitterness because of the possibly greedy motivations of the composers, that, to me, is symptomatic of cynicism having become an end in itself and no longer a filter through which we separate the wheat from the chaff, intellectually. Left unchecked, it will spread through the mind and body, and eventually to the colon. Then it's curtains, Zartan. Let me help you. You can borrow my tape of the Charlie Brown Christmas special.

So Friday was something. The mission was accomplished and the Plastic People successfully infiltrated, although G.I. Joe managed to take Destro out of commission for a short while. The Baronness still managed to accomplish her mission spectacularly, in rather skimpy dress. The rest of the night was spent living behind the velvet rope. Not exactly something I'm used to. I met a few interesting people here and there, but mostly just took advantage of the free booze. The single women travel in packs, and the single men travel in prides. It's not the best environment for the solitary hunter, shall we say. But that was never really the goal anyway, and a good time was had regardless. Especially since I got to ralph all over the ground in front of some Manhattan precinct police station. Woo!

And then, Saturday happened to provide one of the best one-two friday-saturday punches EVER. Did the annual march up to Beck's Tree Farm for the family tree, took in the awesome view as usual, then came home and received the LaSalle Crimson Guard as we prepared for the show. Everyone came together to make this probably the best show yet. The relationship between an audience and a performer is symbiotic--the more "into it" the audience, the more "into it" the performer, and it goes back and forth in a feedback loop. Well, thanks to Zartan, Baronness, Destro, Dr. Mindbender, Major Bludd, Metal-Head, and a host of other Crimson Guardsmen, that feedback loop grew more and more out of control until the rockingness of it threatened to tear the Funhouse off its foundations. So to all who came Saturday, thank you once again. We do this for you, because you do it for us. We all made it a great night.

'Tis the Season, innit?

I realized something while engaging in some idle chatter with Mistress Armada recently, concerning the Christmas season: I'm a big fan of Christmas. It's just a good time to be human.

As an easily impressed child, I couldn't have too much stimulation. Monstrously draconian restrictions on television-watching meant that I got probably six to seven thousand times the enjoyment out of seeing those few programs during December that my brother and I were allowed to watch, The Grinch and A Charlie Brown Christmas being the two essential staples. Going to a Catholic elementary school meant that Advent started on about November 15th and from that point until the holiday started, all of us were in a constant state of holding small plastic tubes in our mouths, holding flameless lighters in one hand and pieces of tinfoil containing pure Christmas in the other, with the benevolent nuns holding holly-bedecked Mauser C-96s to our heads to make sure we kept right on inhaling.

Violent metaphor aside, all I know is, proper immersion in holiday themes and spirits (both definitions) made 12/25 super awesome when it rolled around. Bethlehem, as much as many of its current and former residents may not care for it, is pretty nice during Christmastime. Granted, there's a lot of shit going on that is just royally schmaltzy, like the horse-drawn carriages and the big manger scene in the City Center, and those gigantic Advent candles, but it's part of the overall effect. Bethlehem's a historical town, parts of it dating back further than others (And, for anyone who is curious, NONE of it dates back to the birth of CHRIST. Although he does visit here in the summer sometimes). Few things are more beautiful in December than the historical district when snow is falling. I can't explain the mixed emotions I have when I see the silhouettes of the old Bethlehem Steel furnaces by the Lehigh River amidst a snowstorm, but I can assure you it's a healthy feeling.

And, just two years ago, I was engaged in the most grueling finals season to date, frequently taking a break from my work to have a cigarette on the porch of townhouse E-8, sometimes at 4 or 5 in the morning, with caffeine and ritalin and God knows what else coursing through my system. I'd stand in the cold, December, Philadelphia night, and look at the wreaths, ribbons, and lights that the R.D.s had hung across the way. One night, during the last week, it began to snow heavy, chunky flakes in the early morning while I was out. Not having an mp3 player, I had no music with me, but had such an urge to hear "Christmas Time is Here" by the Vince Guaraldi Trio that I just started singing it to myself. From that moment on I was dedicated to getting a means of portable digital music playing, so that I'd never be without Vince Guaraldi when I needed him again. (And, for the record, outside of Christmastime, the absolute best song to listen to when outside in falling snow is "Higher Ground" by Omni Trio.)

This year, I find myself working full-time, spending about half my nights per week in the studio, and the rest of my evenings frantically trying to spend time with my friends. I see my family infrequently, though we all live in the same house. It startles the hell out of me when I see that it's already the 16th of December...we just had Thanksgiving! And it's because I've gotten next to zero exposure to the season. I did most of my shopping online. Scoring a CD and a box of ammo isn't going to involve a lot of strolling downtown. I just plain old don't have time to sit still and absorb Christmas this time around. At least, I haven't so far. There's still 8 days left. Maybe I can jam some holiday spirit into my head, yet.

For instance, tonight I am headed into Manhattan with Destro and the Baroness. I don't know where in town the club is, but perhaps we'll pass by the big tree or Rockefeller's or something. Who knows? New York makes me edgy most of the time, but this might be just what I need. Nevermind the fact that I get to schmooze with a bunch of models and talk about whose index and middle fingers smell the least like vomit.

I would also like to take this opportunity to say thank you to all my comrades who come out to see Stereo Agency when we play. I'm in love with playing music, and every time my pals come to a show it's as though myself and music are on a honeymoon (sometimes very tender and romantic, other times there's more leather and violence, but always great). Especially guys like Mindbender, Bludd, and hopefully Metal-Head, who are going through a lot of trouble to come to the show on Saturday. That is truly cool. I hope that everyone enjoys what we do when you come out, because our enjoyment of our craft is contingent on the audience's enjoyment of the noise. The giving IS the receiving, wow, does it get any more Christmasy than that? Fawk.

All right, all right. Enough of all this. I have a feeling that it's going to be a great, though poorly-rested weekend. Aren't they all. For those I'll see, I'm looking forward to it. For those I won't, be cool, and root for Pittsburgh come Sunday.

COBRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

Hit Some, Buddy

I would recommend that everyone hightail it, at some point, over to Major Bludd's page. There's a pretty kickass entry about Warren Zevon that would have definitely, definitely provoked a river of tears if I were a 15-year old girl on Lithium who was totally in love with Zevon. As it is rather unbecoming for the future world emperor to admit to weeping at the thought of touching sentiments concerning one of his favorite musical artists, I shall relate to you all instead that I promptly opened two bottles of Basil Hayden, held one in each hand, clinked them together, and chugged them both while humming "Roland the Headless Thompson Gunner" through my nostrils.

Christmas shopping nearly defeated, after allowing it to sit smugly behind its fortified walls long enough to get complacent, then springing a surprise, 360-degree assault. My family should just start writing their thank-you notes to Steelers.com. There's a few isolated pockets of resistance that need to be dealt with, but the course is clear. One of the remaining items is a box of .9mm bullets. Does anybody need to ask who it's for? Perhaps. But if you know the Dreadnok I'm talking about, you should be ashamed of yourself for not figuring it out.

Speaking of bullets, and presents, I have my eye on a gift for myself...it'll have to wait till after the holidays, since I have yet to find a reliable source. But check this out and tell me it isn't the super bomb shizbang:

So Many People You Need To Thank

Firstly, let's give out Sunday awards. First goes to the Pittsburgh Steelers for convincingly beating a good team. Tie for second goes to Kansas City and San Diego, who lost games they probably shouldn't have. Honorable mention goes out to the staff and management of Starter's Pub, who actually allowed us to give the cooks a link of polish sausage to incorporate into our Roethlisburgers (an item that we forced onto the menu). God bless 'em.

Secondly, a couple of monday awards. Jeremy McKenna wins first for wearing a friggin' elf costume into a popular Bethlehem bar, for no reason other than 1) 'tis the season, and 2) to see if he could lure an unsuspecting stranger into making fun of him. Second place, narrowly, goes to Barry, who unquestionably won the Best Fag Ever award. The Steelgaarden bar backs will be plugging their butts with land mines for a month. Let's also regret the senselessness of the execution of Tookie Williams, who, despite gunning down four helpless people in cold blood, deserved clemency because of the positive mark left on the world by the several children's books he wrote from prison, not to mention the founding of one of the most violent and drug-involved gangs in the country.

Stereo Agency plays this Saturday at the Funhouse, 10:30-2. Christmas Show! Not to be missed, even more so than usual. Mindbender and Bludd are already on the guest list, y'all best get on the trolley!

So it looks like myself and Destro are going to be infiltrating some serious Manhattan Plastic People High Life Bash, and I'm going to have to make a wardrobe decision: dress to impress or dark and mysterious?

Except Xamot

Just in case anybody had a problem reading yesterday's post, this might help.

We had rehearsal last night. Our next show is Saturday, December 17th at the Funhouse, catching that early home-from-college townie crowd. I hope. Anyway, it gives us some breathing room, so Ben invited this fella John to come by and rock out some guitar/bass with us. He's a good guy, with a sort of mad-scientist look about him and a warped sense of humor, with a very good ear and incredible talent. As I have mentioned earlier, we have been paying some attention to the idea of adding a fourth member.

But, as killer as the jams were, there is just something thrown off kilter. I don't know why, but over the last couple of years, things have been fine-tuned, tweaked, instruments and personnel have been added and subtracted...to me, it's like picking a lock. You have a series of pins that a key can push up into the right place because it is so precisely cut that way. When you're picking it, you have to ram something in there to hold the pins up, then use another tool to jiggle around each individual pin until they get right where they need to be. Right now, it feels like we've finally got the lock open and screwing around with the pins any further will only set us back. But I don't mind bringing people in to jam from time to time, it's a fun time regardless, and who knows?

The threat of snow looms over the Lehigh Valley. Various reports call for between 3 and 18 inches.

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Mop-up Operations

We finally sent our gimped website to the shop.

The show on Friday went well, short of a couple of things: Murray busted his guitar pedal so he had to go direct through his amp. Predictably this resulted in a change in sound that I regarded as noticeable but not necessarily inferior, but he regarded as cataclysmic. Whatever. The other issue was that, although the Wildflower is spiffy and all, there's too many effing chairs and sofas and divans and settees and chaise-lounges and chesterfields and davenports and such in there. Everybody has a place to sit and get seriously way too comfortable enough by half. So we brought in a pretty nice pile of people, maybe fifty or so through the night, but it was a legion of chilled-out folks nodding their heads, tapping their feet, and who would have waited for the last note to finish ringing out before clapping or making any sort of noise if Dr. Mindbender hadn't been sitting up in the front yelling, shouting out asides, and generally making a scene. The little brother and his legion of mumbling compatriots turned up and seemed to really enjoy themselves until they had to leave because none of them had senior licenses.

Now, in response to Zartan's wish-list:
1. We have considered the pros and cons of adding a bassist since...forever. It would allow Murray and myself much more room to do things and enrich the overall sound a good deal. But, the thing is, since the band reverted to a trio, efficiency has skyrocketed across the board: practice schedules, practice time, creative process (we wrote & arranged about 15 songs in 3 weeks after the last personnel change), communication, booking, and decision making. My honest opinion? It'll probably happen sometime. But we need to take advantage of this situation for a while longer.
2. The video usually gets projected onto a bigger screen or blanket over our heads. Friday's setup was an experiment (failed, evidently). Next time, I will push for directly projecting onto us. We'll wear a lot of white. See how it goes.
3. This would be one of the "pros" of item #1. Not that the integration can't be increased more in the current configuration, however. Duly noted.
4. His balls were where now?

Tonight is the super-prestigious LVMAs, or Lehigh Valley Music Awards for those of you who are autistic or have been locked in a brothel for the past seven years. We were nominated for a decent number of categories (about 6-8), but these things are settled by an internet vote over the span of one week, during which I didn't a nearly good enough job getting the vote out. So, I'm not expecting much, but we may get lucky. After all, we won best Avante-Garde/Instrumental act last year and I don't think any of us had any idea there was voting going on.

Baroness and Destro return from their mission tonight. The transmissions have been promising, I look forward to a full report. In triplicate. That I will make my secretarial staff read and then brief me. And then, if they're good looking enough, de-brief me. COBRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!

Buen Viaje

Last night was quality. Storm Shadow and Baroness were leaving to Colorado in order to do some recon on a possible mountain stronghold location. I hope they run into Snow Job and kick his ass. Anyway, we steamed for a while in the Firebat atop the 'Drome and followed up with an episode of Oz. Watching that show instinctively makes me want to eat Cup Noodles and relentlessly send IMs to people's long-dormant away messages.

Firefly believes, and I concur, that I am afflicted with a small onset of depression with the dropping of the temperature and the shortening of the daylight hours. I don't feel like crossing swords with it, it will pass whenever it passes. Of course, it might help when the local radiology clinic stops threatening to send a collection agency after me.

Tonight is a last rehearsal, and tomorrow evening we launch another sonic incursion against the poor unsuspecting sods at the Wildflower Cafe. As it is a BYO joint, my younger brother David is bringing his friends from school. Interesting...Anyway, everyone is welcome. The venue is located on South New Street, a few doors up from 3rd Street's Chicken & Ribs. 9 pm start time. $5. We're gonna have the video screen set up.