The Demon Barber Of Beat Street
...my morning ritual is essentially the same each day of the week. My off days can vary a bit based on how tired I am, how much coffee I think I can down and how long I feel like going without pants. On the days that I work, I usually make a pit stop at either Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts once I get near the office. You see, my car is very new and unlike the filth mobile that my truck has transformed into, I am making a concerted effort to keep my smartphone on wheels squeaky clean.
This morning, I stopped into Dunkin Donuts for an iced coffee (yes, I am aware that it is freezing outside). As I walk in, I immediately notice that the guy ahead of me has a rather alarming hair decision occurring. The best way in which to name it would be a Hair-hawk Mullet hybrid. His sides were shaved fairly close while the entire top rained down into the back and ended past the shirt collar. I had to grab my phone and make certain that it was still 2014 and that I had not driven the Tardis to work by accident.
This was a grown man. A full blown adult who had made a conscious choice either when he visited the barber or was staring confidently in his own mirror with clippers in hand. Given the volume, I would be willing to concede that he probably stood in his washroom shirtless. Possibly flicking one of his nipples with a smirk on his face. As he pressed the button to fire up his personal hairstyling mechanism, he probably had a particular female conquest in mind. He possibly nodded to himself as he began to unleash upon his once full head of hair. When completed, he took a hand mirror out to check to make sure he was even. Somewhere out there tonight, there is a woman that is possibly to meet the man of her dreams with some might consider the hairdo of the Gods. They might even have kids someday. Rest easy tonight, America. The mullet will never die.
...between 1991 and 1998, I had the privilege of seeing Fugazi live four separate times. Once on the Steady Diet tour at the Vic, two nights in a row at the Congress for End Hits and another time on that tour in Rochester, NY. As one is sometimes known to do in their youth, I never really fully appreciated the majesty of Fugazi when they were active. They came through Chicago almost annually and it never felt like they would go anywhere. Also, during that period, their post-Steady Diet albums did not particularly grab me.
For the past few months, thanks to Spotify, I have repeatedly gone back and listened to the albums that I came to love in high school while listening to their later recordings with fresh ears. As a result, I have come to love Fugazi all over again with renewed vigor. Every album had a personality of its own, but they were always distinctly Fugazi. It was easy to shrug them off through the 1990's as more and more indie bands did their best imitation. None were ever close to matching the original. Fugazi was an incredible musical moment in time.
...the last two albums by The Mars Volta never really registered with me. From their inception, they immediately blew me away with utter competence and consistency. Then Octahedron happened and while it had its moments, it lacked that burst of energy throughout that everything that had come before bore in spades. This morning, I went back to their final album Nocturniquet trying to see if I had missed something. While listening, I was reading their Wikipedia page, specifically the reasons that they called it a day. As I read and listened, I got the feeling that the album was the result of band tensions and contractual obligations only. I felt an absence of the passion and fury of everything up to The Bedlam In Goliath. By contrast, the more I listen to Omar Rodriguez-Lopez's new band Bosnian Rainbows, a new air of that passion arises in a different form. I might liken it to a really good 80's pop album on a heavy psychedelic wavelength.
...rarely do I venture out to shows anymore. In 2013, I went to two of them. The first was the mighty Goblin. While I never ever expected that they would play the states, no amount of nuclear winter would keep me from witnessing them live. The other show was Fates Warning. Fates Warning has existed for 30 years at this point which is very strange to say. I remember when I was first getting into metal back in the late 80's, Led Zeppelin IV was about 16-17 years old. As legendary as that album is, it felt like an ancient relic to the 12-year old version of me. Now at nearly 38-years of age, bands that were new in my youth are what I once felt was ancient.
At this stage of a band's existence, you expect them to mail it in when they actually do release anything new. Fates Warning's last record X was good, but it was nothing anyone would refer to as monumental. Their 2013 album Darkness In A Different Light is another story. Every moment of the record sounds like a band on a mission. So, when I had the chance to see them live, they lived up to already lofty expectations. Every song was tight and sounded pristine. What made it was the drum work of Bobby Jarzombek. Playing some of the more technical rhythms in recent recorded history, the man was absolutely surgical. Listening to the album again today kind of made me want to see a few more shows in 2014.
Read: Blood On The Mink by Robert Silverberg
Listen: Faith No More Angel Dust
Watch: One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest
This morning, I stopped into Dunkin Donuts for an iced coffee (yes, I am aware that it is freezing outside). As I walk in, I immediately notice that the guy ahead of me has a rather alarming hair decision occurring. The best way in which to name it would be a Hair-hawk Mullet hybrid. His sides were shaved fairly close while the entire top rained down into the back and ended past the shirt collar. I had to grab my phone and make certain that it was still 2014 and that I had not driven the Tardis to work by accident.
This was a grown man. A full blown adult who had made a conscious choice either when he visited the barber or was staring confidently in his own mirror with clippers in hand. Given the volume, I would be willing to concede that he probably stood in his washroom shirtless. Possibly flicking one of his nipples with a smirk on his face. As he pressed the button to fire up his personal hairstyling mechanism, he probably had a particular female conquest in mind. He possibly nodded to himself as he began to unleash upon his once full head of hair. When completed, he took a hand mirror out to check to make sure he was even. Somewhere out there tonight, there is a woman that is possibly to meet the man of her dreams with some might consider the hairdo of the Gods. They might even have kids someday. Rest easy tonight, America. The mullet will never die.
...between 1991 and 1998, I had the privilege of seeing Fugazi live four separate times. Once on the Steady Diet tour at the Vic, two nights in a row at the Congress for End Hits and another time on that tour in Rochester, NY. As one is sometimes known to do in their youth, I never really fully appreciated the majesty of Fugazi when they were active. They came through Chicago almost annually and it never felt like they would go anywhere. Also, during that period, their post-Steady Diet albums did not particularly grab me.
For the past few months, thanks to Spotify, I have repeatedly gone back and listened to the albums that I came to love in high school while listening to their later recordings with fresh ears. As a result, I have come to love Fugazi all over again with renewed vigor. Every album had a personality of its own, but they were always distinctly Fugazi. It was easy to shrug them off through the 1990's as more and more indie bands did their best imitation. None were ever close to matching the original. Fugazi was an incredible musical moment in time.
...the last two albums by The Mars Volta never really registered with me. From their inception, they immediately blew me away with utter competence and consistency. Then Octahedron happened and while it had its moments, it lacked that burst of energy throughout that everything that had come before bore in spades. This morning, I went back to their final album Nocturniquet trying to see if I had missed something. While listening, I was reading their Wikipedia page, specifically the reasons that they called it a day. As I read and listened, I got the feeling that the album was the result of band tensions and contractual obligations only. I felt an absence of the passion and fury of everything up to The Bedlam In Goliath. By contrast, the more I listen to Omar Rodriguez-Lopez's new band Bosnian Rainbows, a new air of that passion arises in a different form. I might liken it to a really good 80's pop album on a heavy psychedelic wavelength.
...rarely do I venture out to shows anymore. In 2013, I went to two of them. The first was the mighty Goblin. While I never ever expected that they would play the states, no amount of nuclear winter would keep me from witnessing them live. The other show was Fates Warning. Fates Warning has existed for 30 years at this point which is very strange to say. I remember when I was first getting into metal back in the late 80's, Led Zeppelin IV was about 16-17 years old. As legendary as that album is, it felt like an ancient relic to the 12-year old version of me. Now at nearly 38-years of age, bands that were new in my youth are what I once felt was ancient.
At this stage of a band's existence, you expect them to mail it in when they actually do release anything new. Fates Warning's last record X was good, but it was nothing anyone would refer to as monumental. Their 2013 album Darkness In A Different Light is another story. Every moment of the record sounds like a band on a mission. So, when I had the chance to see them live, they lived up to already lofty expectations. Every song was tight and sounded pristine. What made it was the drum work of Bobby Jarzombek. Playing some of the more technical rhythms in recent recorded history, the man was absolutely surgical. Listening to the album again today kind of made me want to see a few more shows in 2014.
Read: Blood On The Mink by Robert Silverberg
Listen: Faith No More Angel Dust
Watch: One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest
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