hot out here

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.