hot out here

So yeah, I went to Hannibal on business and wrote the type of overwrought prose that I usually do when visiting a new city.  What’s happened since then?

Work, mostly.  I hinted in previous blog posts about starting a night job at a call center.  The night job started last month, and I’ve been in intensive training ever since.  Basically, you’re in training for six weeks, five nights every week, and you’re then set loose on the phones.  Therefore, it’s been 14-hour days every day since late March.  Training ends this Friday, though, and then I’ll work three nights a week and one weekend day - about 18 hours a week total.  Which is still a lot to deal with, but at least I get nights off during the week.

Lest you think I’m complaining…well, I am, but I infinitely prefer this situation to the one from a few months ago.  You may recall that situation: I was unemployed with no prospects, and very nervous about what we’d do.  Given the options, I’d much rather have the two jobs.  I spent four years attending evening law school on almost the same schedule, so this really isn’t much of a change.

Meanwhile, the lawyer job seems to be going well.  I like my boss and my coworkers, and they seem to be happy with my work.  It turns out that I really like doing bankruptcy law.  It may be that I’m in a unique position to empathize with our clients.  We don’t work with any big business filing Chapter 11, nor are most of our clients cheats or transients.  On the contrary, most of them are hardworking people who made honest but bad decisions, or were living paycheck to paycheck until the paycheck suddenly went away.  A couple more months of unemployment and I could very well have been in their shoes.  So perhaps I can relate to their situations from a firsthand perspective.  It probably explains why my favorite part of the job is stopping house foreclosures and car repossessions.  Right now I’m at a point where I still have a lot to learn, but can at least answer the basic questions and understand the process.

All of the above explains why I’ve been out of touch with music and current events lately.  (I didn’t hear a note of Susan Boyle, for instance, until that news cycle was almost finished.)  I did manage to jump upon the Dum Dum Girls/Mayfair Set bandwagon before it was too late.  Ever hear a band that seemed tailormade to your specific interests?  That’s how I felt the first time I checked the Dum Dum Girls out online.  Here was a band (well, solo project) that combined the noisy  acoustics of Psychocandy, echoey girl-group style harmonies, simple but effective hooks, and an appealing lo-fi flavor.  I could drop names like Aislers Set, Slumber Party and Shop Assistants, or I could drop a backhanded comment like “this is what I was hoping Vivian Girls would sound like, but so far don’t outside of ‘Where Do You Run To’ and a couple other tracks.”  And those would be accurate reference points.  But there’s something original about the DDG approach, especially the vocals, which are oddly stylized like 1980s 4AD on a four-track.  I’m looking forward to hearing much more - this could be a new favorite band.

On the other hand, I’ve been oblivious enough about local happenings, to the extent that that I did not know Tommy Keene was playing in town last night until 9 pm.  I quickly got dressed and headed to Off Broadway, and made it just in time to watch Sally Crewe and the Sudden Moves move their equipment offstage - a pity, as I wanted to see them.  I did manage to catch local legends Finn’s Motel and really liked them - a sort of intellectual, word-drenched power pop halfway between Elvis Costello and Franklin Bruno.  Tommy Keene’s new stuff doesn’t sound a million miles removed from his mid-80s hits a la “Back to Zero Now” and “Places That Are Gone,” but that’s consistency rather than a rut.   Mostly I was happy to see and hear him, and enjoyed the whole set.  Note that I left a few songs early, mindful of having to get up this morning with the kids.  Let me guess; he pulled out all the greatest hits as soon as I got into my car, right?

On Friday I took a long car ride by myself.  I had to represent a client in Hannibal, MO, former home of Mark Twain and current location of one of the four bankruptcy hearing locations in eastern Missouri.  (Others: STL, Wentzville and Cape Girardeau.)  I live about 95 miles south of Hannibal, and the client lives almost as far away, but if you live in one of the designated counties, that’s where you go.  At least my employer paid me for the mileage.

The drive up Route 61 was pretty much what you’d expect: almost completely rural between Wentzville and Hannibal.  Lots of farms, churches, empty land.  It’s been a long time since I’ve had such a drive - probably since 2003, when we were moving from Seattle and drove through a spookily deserted expanse of Wyoming.  I’ve driven to Jefferson City and Chicago, too, but those weren’t the same; this was miles and miles of secondary highway, almost no one else on the road except for trucks and farm vehicles.  I used to wonder what kids did for fun in the small towns along such highways.  I still do, except that I no longer try to graft my own Northeast urban/suburban perspective onto the landscape.

Traveling along such areas always puts me in a strange headspace.  I made sure to bring this week’s The Best Show on WFMU podcast, but ended up mostly listening to R.E.M.  Fables of The Reconstruction, and especially Automatic for The People, made perfect background music for the one-lane service roads and the hastily-constructed white crosses along 61 North.  I’ve been moved by music a lot lately, and “Feeling Gravity’s Pull” and “The Sidewinder Sleeps Tonight” did it for me on this trip.  It doesn’t matter what kind of nonsense Michael Stipe is singing on “Sidewinder;” what matters is that the song feels absolutely majestic.  When you’re the only one on the road and you can see the next several miles unfolding ahead of you, there’s something indelibly moving about the way the strings come in during “Sidewinder”’s second chorus.

The meeting itself took less than 10 minutes, as such meetings usually do.  If you ever file for bankruptcy and have to appear at a trustee hearing, don’t stress too much.  Keep your cool, don’t overanswer the trustee’s questions, and you’ll be fine.  (And make sure you hire a good bankruptcy lawyer who’s willing to drive halfway across the state to represent you.  Ahem.)

The meeting adjourned, and there I was in Hannibal, quite by accident.  I’d traveled a long way to get there, so I figured I should at least drive around the small downtown area before heading back to work.  I drove away from the bankruptcy court and down Broadway, with its dilapidated resale shops and bars.  I made a left at the river, where most of the Mark Twain historical/touristy stuff is.  I drove up quiet residential streets with cute but aging housing stock.  I loved that the whole town apparently exists on a steep hill.

Now, keep in mind that I’m basing this opinion on about 15 minutes of driving around, but Hannibal felt remote and somewhat downtrodden.  A place that had its history decades ago, and is now capitalizing on it as best as it can.  Lots of businesses with the words “Twain,” “Clement,” “Huckleberry” and “Sawyer” in them.  At least two Twain imitators working in town, according to the Internet.  You know there must be more, just as sure as Memphis is crawling with Elvis imitators.  I’ll have to explore the place next time I have a meeting there.

The ride home was uneventful.  Rides home usually are.  I went back to work, saw a couple of clients, and came home absolutely exhausted.

Goodbye to Pylon guitarist Randy Bewley.

Here was a band every bit as bold and forward-thinking as Joy Division and Gang of Four, but with smaller statements and different motivation.  Where Ian Curtis was examining the depth of human suffering, for instance, Pylon was playing Athens, GA parties with the early B-52s and R.E.M.  More approachable and inviting.  Less mysterious.  Indicative of the idea, which I have always loved, that the best band in the world doesn’t have to be on a major label or from thousands of miles away.  It can just as easily be your friends from work or school playing in a living room for 20 people.

Pylon often seemed so excited about their music that they could sometimes barely express it verbally.  Song titles came down to one or two-word mood indicators; lyrics were often little more than exclamations that “everything is COOL,” “working is no problem as long as I keep my mind,” “you can dance if you want to, you can dance if you like,” or (at their most absurdly reductive) “Four minutes! Four minutes! Four minutes!”  Bewley’s guitar playing played a big part in holding it all together; he could play brittle and taut, evoking a one-person Television - or, as on “Crazy,” basically invent Peter Buck’s early arpeggiated style for him.

Pylon could continue, I guess, but it’s hard to see how it would be the same.  I only wish I’d seen then.  It’s not as if I didn’t have lots of chances during their first reunion in the late ’80s.

*  Proof that I’m tired and overwhelmed with the new job: I actually got misty-eyed during the Beastie Boys’ “Stop That Train.”  To me, the subway is a symbol of NYC, and some of my best memories of my trips back East involve long rides to Coney Island or Borough Park or wherever.  When I hear lyrics like “same old people every day/but you don’t know their names,” “now you’re stuck between stations/and it feels like an eternity,” or “sat across from a man reading El Diario,” I hear people who notice the same small details about the subway as I do.  Mind you, most of the song doesn’t apply to me; I’ve never urinated on the third rail, kicked out windows high on cocaine, been asked to “put that crack out.”  But when I hear “Stop That Train,” I can practically feel the rush of cold air as I step into the uptown A/C/E  on a warm summer night.  It’s a nostalgic memory.

*  On the same album, the Beastie Boys boast of having “more suits than Jacoby & Myers.”  Me, I’ve only owned five or six suits in my life - first one was for my bar mitzvah in 1979 - and the last time I bought a new one was in 1999 just before my wedding.  It was a navy blue suit from Men’s Wearhouse, and I’ve certainly gotten my money’s worth out of it.  I got married, went on job interviews, attended innumerable Shabboses, graduated law school and was sworn into the Missouri Bar wearing it.  (To be honest, I’m impressed that I can still fit into it.)  Now that I’m finally working in the legal field, part of my job is to represent clients at creditors’ hearings.  It’s hardly A Civil Action territory, but one must be professionally dressed all the same.  After a decade, my blue suit is looking a bit ragged.  So I took advantage of the Men’s Wearhouse’s recent two-for-one deal and bought two new suits.  I feel like a million bucks wearing them.  Grown up, almost.

*  I’ll be writing some more RFT pieces in the next few weeks.  Stay tuned.

*  Today I spent my leftover Euclid Records credit on the Titan: It’s All Pop! double CD on Numero Group.  I’m looking forward to diving in.  Titan Records was a tiny label from Kansas City; I remember seeing their ads in Trouser Press.   The copious liner notes tell the story of a label desperately trying to release perfect records at the expense of literally everything else - including the home of one of the label heads, who happened to be a married man with kids.  (How he got his wife to go along with this scheme is something I’ll never understand.)   It’s a story of heroes, villians, hope, disappointment, and (inevitably) a guest appearance from Greg Shaw.  It is, indeed, all pop, and I’m not complaining.  It doesn’t appear that St. Louis has a comparable story, but at least we had/have Jordan Oakes and his Yellow Pills fanzine and compilations (also anthologized on Numero Group).

*  Speaking of Yellow Pills: I actually went to law school and studied for the bar with Jordan Oakes’ sister.  I knew her for four years before I realized who her brother was.  She kind of knew about Jordan’s interests, but did not seem to understand he’s legendary among a small group of record collectors.  That’s a typical story, though; talking to my family about my fanzine/blogging exploits is always a bit awkward and confusing.

Honestly, I wouldn’t expect too much in the world of blog posting for the near future.  Between the new attorney gig, an impending part-time job (starting late next month), my occasional freelance forays, and actually seeing my wife and kids once in awhile, I can barely catch my breath right now.

One new thing I’m doing is a series of MP3 posts of A to Z; Annie and I will be alternating every other Thursday.  I got to write the inaugural post, a look back at Beanpole’s pleasingly lo-fi pop sounds.  I’ve been a fan of Verna’s solo recordings for years, to the point of interviewing her for the last issue of CIF in 1999, and “Now I Know” is one of her best.

Los Campesinos!/Titus Andronicus insta-blog post, A to Z.

I wrote this in a half-asleep daze in the immediate wee hours after the show.  Believe it or not, it is difficult for 42-year-olds to rock all night.  I’m just glad the words came quickly.  Sometimes they don’t.  When I wrote an A to Z post about Smoosh’s opening set for Bloc Party, for instance, it took literally half the night (and several frantic emails to my poor music editor) to finish it.

Week 1 of the lawyer gig went OK, for the most part.  I learn best when I’m essentially thrown into a situation, and that’s pretty much what happened.  I did solo consultations, represented clients at creditors’ meetings (but this is a very easy thing to do - said meetings are less than five minutes long and usually involve no tough questions), and in general learned more about bankruptcy than I ever knew before.

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Remember my post from a couple months back?  How I was worried about losing our house?  It’s still in the back of my mind.  Although I’m happy to have a full-time source of income, the fact is that it won’t by itself cover the debts we’ve incurred.  So I’m looking for a supplemental part-time job to make up the difference.  My boss is OK with that, luckily.  I’ll be doing some additional RFT writing, which is nice.  An evening call-center job was supposed to start this week, but now it’s been pushed ahead to late March, and who knows if it’ll get postponed again?  So if you know of a good PT gig, please let me know.  Anything to keep me a bankruptcy counselor instead of a client.

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I’m a big fan of Euclid Records‘ in-stores, and not just because the owner is an in-law.  Free entertainment on a Sunday afternoon is always nice, and Euclid often books bands I might not have seen otherwise (like Steve Wynn or NRBQ’s Terry Adams).  I’ve even taken Esther to see music here.  This afternoon Peter Holsapple and Chris Stamey of the dB’s played a free in-store.  Missing it was not an option.  This was major.

I’ve liked power pop as long as I’ve liked music - it must have something to do with being a childhood Beatles fan as opposed to Stones fan - and the dB’s were early favorites.  I had both Stands for Decibels and Repercussions in high school and swore by both.  However, I have never seen the original band live.  I saw the post-Stamey dB’s open for Aztec Camera in 1985; they were actually very good.  In 1991  I caught a Stamey/Holsapple acoustic show at Maxwell’s, but left after a few songs.  The opening act, the Pat Maley/Lois Maffeo duo called Courtney Love, was spectacular, leaving the ex-dB’s sounding old and tired in comparison.  It was a mismatch, and at age 24, I wasn’t that into the old power-pop heroes anyway.  (True story: a young St. Louisan named Callie was in the audience that night.  She was staying with relatives down the street.  Of course we didn’t meet at the time, but it sure made a funny story when we were dating.)

These days, of course, I’m much less likely to write people off as being “old and tired,” let alone to presume it to be the case.  The original dB’s have reformed and played a few gigs here and there.  I’ve yet to see them, but I was certainly ready to give the acoustic duo a second chance.

It should be no surprise that they were fantastic.  They were clearly at ease with, trading jokes and and enjoying the Sunday afternoon crowd.  There were some familiar songs - a bunch from the Mavericks duo album, “Nothing Is Wrong” from Repercussions, Stamey’s solo “Something Came Over Me,” and a wonderful downtempo version of “Black and White” - but the new and otherwise unfamiliar songs did not disappoint, either.  They even snuck in a Euclid Records jingle.  Great show all around. So how about bringing Gene and Will for a full-fledged dB’s set next time?  And tell your old friends the Feelies to visit, too.

My favorite moment: entering my appearance in a personal injury case as “Attorney Michael H. Appelstein.”  For the first time, it felt real.

A few notes before I close the door on this rough time for the Appelstein family.  (It’ll remain rough for awhile, but at least the upswing begins now.)

*  Two online articles this week: My Village Voice Pazz & Jop ballot, and a quickie RFT piece about hearing She & Him at the call center where I worked for a week and a half this month.  I should note that although I’m flattered to be part of Pazz & Jop, it doesn’t negate my opinions about its ridiculousness - the whole Vampire Weekend class-based “controversy” being this year’s example.  This authenticity debate has been going on at least since Joe Strummer was outed as a diplomat’s son, and I don’t see any resolution.  Or point.

*  Speaking of the RFT, intrepid editor Annie has tracked down some fascinating YouTube clips by The Remaindrz, a femme new-wave/power-pop St. Louis band circa 1982.  The vibe is more Pretenders/Blondie than Slits/Raincoats, but that’s to be expected given the time period and the non-coastal location (although Chicago, Minneapolis and Austin all had cool post-punk girl bands at the time).  No one seems to know who they are/were, and that includes a local mailing list composed mostly of people who saw every local show between 1978 and 1985.  Who were they?  I’m taking up this crusade as my own!

*  I watched the Joy Division biopic on Pitchfork.tv this week.  It was so much better than Control if you’re looking for a sense of the band and the post-industrial Manchester vibe that created it.  Not only has it thrown me back into a Joy Division kick, but I wish I could take the Factory Records tour of Manchester.*  As a side note, I’m now obsessed with the Northern Soul song “Keep On Keepin’ On” that Joy Division allegedly tried to cover, but ended up using as source material for “Interzone.”  Anyone know where I can find a copy of that?

*  Sort of.  It would of course be incomplete, since the Hulme Crescents have been pulled down, the deserted Manchester rail station long since refurbished, and the Hacienda long gone.  Question: Is wanting to visit Hulme like, say, being a Wu-Tang Clan fan and wanting to see the Stapleton housing projects?  Full of theoretical mystique, but drab and kind of dangerous to actually do?

I still can’t believe I’m typing this, but after months of searching, I have finally been extended an offer to work for a law firm.  I accepted, of course.  It’s a very small firm that specializes in bankruptcy and immigration cases.  Ironically, one of the things that set me apart from other candidates was this very blog and my web-savviness.

I start Monday.  I’m incredibly relieved - not to mention stunned - but also nervous about performing up to expectations.  Then again, the alternative may have been the crap call center job that it was my pleasure to leave on Tuesday.  I’d rather be challenged and taken seriously than do call-center work.

Thanks so much to those of you who have emailed me privately with ideas and words of encouragement.  It’s nice to know that I have such nice readers and friends.