Mind Altering

Two epiphanic episodes this week for me.

Driving the truck up Veteran's Parkway I look down and see the left turn signal has been flashing for the last half mile. In my defense, the blinker is totally silent. You can only see that is on.

"Way to go grandpa." I say to myself.

And then I think about this. "Grandpa," hmm.

Soon I will be 40. It's not totally implausible that I could have been a father at 20. It didn't happen, obviously. But it could have.

And if I had son or daughter at 20 why couldn't they have done the same?

You look at yourself in the prime of life one moment. The next, viola! Grandpa!

Freaky.

Also, this:

When I took over the business, I got out my two best vacuums, lined them up and addressed them Patton style (i.e. I put on breeches and gestured with a riding crop)

"You two vacuums are my best two vacuums. You have served me well and you continue to run quietly and efficiently. " Here I paced back and forth swishing the crop through the air for emphasis.



I round on them, pointing,"Some day you will break down. It is inevitable." I let that soak in for a while and then continued:



"But what you must not do, must never do, is break down at the same time as your comrade. That would be bad. That would defeat our mission"



Of course that is exactly what they did. I think the bearings went out on one and I know the plastic fan snapped on the other.



I ordered a new motor. I never think of my self as being handy with stuff or adept at all with the more malleable aspects of the physical world, but a new motor was about $150 cheaper prospect so I thought I'd give it a whirl.


I disconnected and removed the old motor and installed the new one
quite successfully. With minimal parts left over (2 weird little springs that somehow, inscrutably, attach to the inside of the housing.).



It made me feel so buoyantly happy to penetrate the mysteries of my own vacuum. I woke up that morning as someone to whom the innards of the Sanitaire were a void. And now...


Two instants where the universe revolved and deposited me in totally unexpected place.

The Gold Standard

Album

I might have already sent you one.

But if you like, I will send you our new album.

Send me your address.

Wrong

The name is wrong but that's no big deal. They don't really look at the name.

11. Yes.

Harbottle. Close. Easy mistake.

Whitehorse, Yukon, Canada.

No.

Barometers

Just got back from our night walk.

A time for inspecting the neighborhood running around from yard to yard. Tonight at midnight it is still stiflingly hot and humid.

In the middle of our walk Shiva and Cisco stop dead in the street.

First they come over to me and look me in the face. Very strange since they almost completely ignore me on our walks. They are too busy smelling stuff.

Then they face into the wind about 10 seconds before a blast of cold air hits us.

Clever little things.

Muttonhead songs

I am going to post some info about our upcoming album on our website for reviewers and fans alike to peruse if they wish. But I want you to read it first:

First off "Muttonhead" is the nickname given to our esteemed producer Jerry Erickson. Have you ever seen the movie "Any Which Way But Loose"? At the end there is a scene where all are gathered in a bar and a country and western band is playing a song. The bass player has pouffy hair and big muttonchops. That's Jerry. Muttonhead.

1. "From the McLean Co Lockup"

This a song that used to be called 'The Stir'. It is the result of reflections made subsequent to my little brush with the law all those years ago. I think it is the last of the 'Gallery' songs. The Gallery was a legendary music club and watering hole (is 'liquoring hole' a phrase?)here in downstate Illinois to which many of us were attached in one way or another. It has been the subject of many of my songs.

It took me about 30 takes to get it right as we wanted to record both the vocals and the guitar at the same time. There are some tiny little flaws in the recording that we just said "Fuck it" to. It was the right performance.

The guitar is run through 2 amps. A Matchless Spitfire and Jerry's sweet c. 1960 Fender Pro. All blended together. Mmm.

2. "After 4"

This always sounds like mid-90s pop to me. I expect the DJ to come on and say that he's gonna follow that up with some Semisonic and Fastball. It's super-tight because we have played it 1 billion times. You don't like this song? Don't worry; its barely 2 minutes long.

3. "Kelly"

A country song. Our friend Martin Hartzold deserves half credit for this song. He was the one that came up with the very country notion of a man made wretched by unrequited love but, living as he does in a trailer, unable to hang himself because his ceilings are too low.

4. "Disorder"

An ode to obsessives and compulsives I have known.

5. "Truculent"

Our hit. This song is about trucks, people in my neighborhood, belligerent foreign policy and Toby Keith. Oh, and the environment. It's all in there.

Northwest guitar heavy A P Starkey takes a turn with the space rock. During the recording I innocently asked if the guitar was in tune. This provoked barks of laughter from Aaron and Jerry. "What he is playing has nothing to do with being in tune," said Jerry. "Ah, right." says I, chastened.

After we had been playing it for a while I noticed that the song's structure and vibe is the similar to "Question" by the Moody Blues. One of my childhood favorites.

6. "Time"

An affectionate and teasingly disrespectful cover. "What is Pink Floyd not?" I asked myself as we set out to play the 1973 chestnut. "Sexy and Latin" was the reply. People often don't recognize this song when we play it live. Mission accomplished.

7. "Lucky Double 9s"

Named for Chiang Kai shek's favorite brand of cigarettes. A foray into the postmodern approach of hijacking historical figures and re-purposing them in fantastical narratives. Here Chiang Kai-shek drives though my town, Bloomington Il...and makes many observations that bear a suspicious similarity to my own.

This song also appeared on our 4 song EP.

At a recent show some drunken fellows stumbled up the stage to tell me that I "Have a great voice for screaming." The implication being that, in their opinion, the singing (or indeed, conversational speech?) was not up to snuff. I should just scream and be happy with that. I don't really agree with them but did not bother to point out that only screaming forecloses a great many vocal and musical subtleties.

But this screamy song makes their point somewhat convincingly.

8. "In Memoriam" Written about a friend's stepfather, of whom I was fond.

Delusional II

“It’s full speed on to the White House,” Mrs. Clinton confidently proclaimed.

Correct me if I am wrong, but isn't that what I used to say as I stumbled home from the bar?