hot out here

Labelscar finally got around to covering Brunswick Square Mall, my local growing up.  They’ve basically pegged the place: a second-rate mall in the heart of mall country, hopelessly dwarfed by its neighbors to the north (Woodbridge Center and Menlo Park Mall) and south (Quakerbridge, itself not terribly huge).  The other malls’ video arcades were better.  Their food courts were better; heck, we didn’t even have a food court, let alone a second floor.  But so I have so many childhood memories tied up in Brunswick Square that I continue to root for the underdog.

And it isn’t even the ugliest mall in East Brunswick.  That would have to be Mid-State Mall – or, more likely, Miracle Mall, home to a DMV office, a military recruiting station and an ever-changing array of grade-C anchor stores.  The only “miracle” is that it’s stayed open for decades.

After being tipped off by Ed Wong, I tracked down three videos by Malcontent, a band from my Rutgers undergrad days.  It’s tempting to think of them as the spiritual godmothers to Vivian Girls and Screaming Females (both from Rutgers!), mixed with the Slits and Shaggs.  They lasted less than a year and never really progressed past the “joke band” stage…but heck, I liked ‘em a lot and so did many others.  I even had them do a “Win A Date” contest on my WRSU show once during pledge week.  I think they took the winner bowling at Edison Lanes; they were supposed to report back on my show, but I don’t think they ever did.

Scenes from the Court Tavern, 1985:

A Reggae Song
Ena Get Your Hair Done
Leaving On A Jet Plane

Sadly missing from the YouTube archives: “Life Really Sucks” and “Ed Wong.”  You can still hear the latter on WRSU sometimes when Ed’s doing his show.

All from ivysilence‘s channel, whom I believe to be Cliff Livingston, guitarist about town and member of Dolphin Room and Lesser Koodoo.  You have to check out his videos if you lived in 1980s New Brunswick – he’s also got live clips by Pleased Youth, Bedlam and Matt Pinfield’s band Opium Vala.

When I say I’m on a Facebook fast, I mean it.  As in, I’ve told my wife to change the password and only let me log in upon request.  So I’m only on Facebook once a week if that.  Therefore, if there are memorial arrangements or anything else for Lisa, please leave a comment in the blog itself so I can pass it along.  So far I haven’t seen an obit in any of the usual places, so any info much appreciated.

In the spring of 2008, my friend Don Buchanan committed suicide.  I wrote a heartfelt post about it.  True to my prediction, so did others.  Death often brings clarity: and in the wake of Don’s death, it became evident that he’d affected almost everyone he met.  Everyone had a story about a cool record, a fun live show, or a hilarious joke that he’d shared.  I wonder if he’d be here today if only he knew how irreplaceable he was.

I heard from several of Don’s friends and relatives, all of whom appreciated the spirit in which I wrote it.  (I didn’t gloss over Don’s dark side, and at the time, I worried that it would offend those closest to him.)  Among the people who wrote me: Lisa Tombyll, Don’s wife and mother of his stepdaughter.  Lisa and I went to school together but didn’t really know each other.  She was devastated, as you’d expect, but seemed to appreciate the outpouring of love and goodwill that followed.  I was happy I could provide some small comfort.

Now I have just learned that Lisa is gone, too.

Details are sketchy: apparently she woke up not feeling well this morning, went to the hospital and passed away there.  All I really know is what I read on Facebook tonight.  If there’s an obit or funeral news, I’ll share it here.

I don’t really know what else to say.  I didn’t know Lisa that well.  But I do know that her family and friends have experienced two heartbreaking losses in 18 months – not least of whom their daughter, who has lost both of her parents.  My heart is with them all.

This enigmatic compilation EP has just shown up on discogs.net.  Apparently recorded live in Rahway, NJ in 1985, it includes xex‘s “Baby It’s You.”  This is one of two songs I remember from the late-period xex shows I saw – the other was “Vietnam Vet.”  I’ve almost convinced myself that I imagined this song, and I must hear it.  Look, I know there are record collectors and WFMU types that read this blog.  Who’s got it?  Who can make me a copy, mp3 or otherwise?  I’ll reward you with some rare pixilated tracks of my own.

And while we’re on the subject: xex performing “St. Vitus Dance” live at Hurrah!, 1981.  Filmed/produced by the same folks who did YMG’s Live At The Hurrah! DVD.  Someday I’ll get around to updating the xex site to include this clip.

In my continued quest to be just behind the popular trends, I’ve been obsessing on the xx this week.  “Crystalised” has not left my mind for days.  I admit I sought the band out due to its alleged Young Marble Giants similarities…but other than a hint in the guitar/bass interplay, I don’t really hear the resemblance.  If anything, the xx sound more like they’ve been obsessing on Broadcast and the early Too Pure family – one can easily imagine them opening for Pram or Laika.

I think it says something about YMG’s singularity that no one really sounds like them.  Not even Confetti, whom I once spent a lot of ink and pixels comparing to Cardiff’s finest.  Certainly Confetti’s arrangements were YMG-inspired – which was intentional, according to bandmember Mark – but the lyrical content was different, the production much less stark, the whole approach much less…weird.

All of which is good for the xx, who are thus forced to rely on their own devices and create something quiet and unique.  I recommend them highly.  (Dare we wish for an xx/X/X/Ex/xex bill?  Probably not very compatible, names nonwithstanding.)

There’s something about the quiet desolation of Southern Illinois that I find uniquely evocative.

I worked in the legal department of a metals manufacturer for awhile last fall.  I always enjoyed the drive: up 367 North, over the bridge overlooking the marshes, through the somewhat downtrodden Alton neighborhood and finally to work.  My current law firm has an office in Granite City, which involves driving over two bridges and down a long, narrow strip of highway dotted by tiny houses and paralleled by a railroad track.  This gives way to Nameoki Road, a crowded strip of grade-B strip malls, social service agencies, fast food establishments and decent thrift stores.  If it’s a late-afternoon or weekend appointment (like today), I’ll sometimes take Nameoki south, past the huge iron works and the racetrack and finally back to St. Louis.

It’s hard to explain the connection I feel to a faded working-class area.  (And, to be fair, there are thriving cities in the area, like Edwardsville and Collinsville.)  But I truly enjoy these drives over the Mississippi River.  I even (sort of) enjoy my infrequent trips to East St. Louis to shepherd clients through the 341 meeting process.  And I think I figured out an explanation: Southern IL reminds me uncannily of the Middlesex County, New Jersey of my youth.

I grew up in Monroe Township: a fairly rural berg in the 1970s and 1980s, now mostly developed with warehouses and office parks.  But just north of me was Spotswood and South River, two towns that pretty much define working-class suburban New Jersey for me.  On Main Street in Spotswood, factories stand next to ancient, tiny houses.  Small local businesses – accountants, insurance agencies, diners, resale shops, car dealerships, nothing too quaint – line Main Street as you drive toward Route 18.  There used to be a huge yeast plant in Spotswood that made the whole town smell like beer; I’m feeling a strange synesthesia thinking about it now, both seeing and smelling the memory.

Here, let me demonstrate for you:

Here is Main Street in Spotswood, where I often rode my bike home from the mall.

And here is Nameoki Road in Granite City.  See the resemblance?

Which is not to say it’s always such reverie driving through these streets.  Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to live in Granite City or Madison, and I recoil in horror.  That’s probably residue from my youth, too.

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Still on Facebook fast.  If you enjoyed this post, how about coming to the blog itself and leaving a comment?  I won’t see your comment for awhile otherwise.

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Current musical enjoyments: Feelies reissues; about half of Yo La Tengo’s Popular Songs; a surprising chunk of Vivian Girls’ Everything Goes Wrong; Liechtenstein in general.  Tonight’s soundtrack: Sibylle Baier‘s Colour Green, which strikes me as a perfect halfway point between Vashti Bunyan and Julie Doiron.  I always go for this kind of sound in the fall.

I’ve decided to make a clean break from Facebook for awhile.  It will not be a Facebook suicide ; more like an extended coma.  My profile will stay up there, but I’ve had Callie change the password to something so super-secret and obscure that I could never figure it out.  Or so I hope.  This means that I’ll miss out on the next “25 Random iPod Selections” meme or whatever.  But it also means I won’t be tempted to check Facebook during the work day, when I should be working on Chapter 13 plans.

I’m keeping Twitter and MySpace for the sole reason that I barely ever check them.  I’ve never gotten really into tweeting.  Part of me wants to be contrarian, delete myself from every social networking site, and rejoin Friendster.

Maybe this means I’ll get back into blogging again.  For instance, how about some old-fashioned self-promotion?  The RFT posted my somewhat scattered article about the Feelies reissues this week.  I tried to strike a balance between memoir and reportage, but fell – perhaps inevitably – toward the former.  I can’t stand so-called music pieces that end up being all about the author, but I also can’t distance myself from seeing the Feelies at least two dozen times between 1985 and 1991 (with the Court Tavern show I referenced a real keeper – it seems so surreal that I saw them there now).

After almost a decade in the business, Indiepages is taking a hiatus of undetermined length.  Chris doesn’t elaborate as to why, but I’m sure his current status as a dad has something to do with it.  The message board remains online, and the reviews and associated websites remain, but the shop is now closed.

As you may know, I was using Indiepages’ shop to sell Caught In Flux back issues and Automat CDs.  I haven’t decided if I’m going to make them available directly or not.  It was already taking me months to send orders anyway, and it’s not as I was getting more than a few orders a year.  How about this?  If you’re interested, you can always send me an email.  Be prepared to wait, though.

You’ve probably already guessed I’m on an unofficial hiatus from blogging.  Lately I have working seven-day weeks, which leaves me with no time or motivation to write anything here.  But I am breaking my silence to share an experience we as a family had last night.  Those of you who are parents and still like music: perhaps you can relate.

Last night, Sonic Youth played under the Gateway Arch.  We in St. Louis have been excited about this for months.  And the weather couldn’t have been better, especially by St. Louis standards: sunny, high 70s, not too humid.  Clearly this was going to be an event.

At first I was going to go by myself, but at the last minute Callie decided to join me.  She’s a bigger Sonic Youth fan than I am, and she’d never seen them before.  When we realized that they would be going on at 7:30 pm – not too long after the kids’ bedtimes – it seemed like a great idea to bring them, too.  They are already fascinated by the Arch, and they’ve never been to a proper rock show before.  What could possibly be hipper for a first band?

Opening band Awesome Color was just going on as we arrived, so we took E&A over to the kids’ area.  They had a lot of fun ping-ponging around in the bounce house and drawing at the Magic House booth.  After awhile doing that, we took our seats on the Arch steps.  Awesome Color ended their set, and the place slowly started filling.

It was perhaps an hour until SY took the stage.  The kids had fun rolling around on the Arch steps (literally) and playing with another little girl nearby, but eventually started getting bored.  They started asking if they could go back to the kids’ area.  “I don’t want to just sit here!” Esther complained.  But the Arch steps were getting quite crowded, and we didn’t want to lose our place.

Finally Sonic Youth came on and were absolutely marvelous.  The new songs sounded great, and they’re still every bit as animated onstage as they were decades ago.  The setting couldn’t have been better – a beautiful twilight, with the Mississippi River providing a striking backdrop.

It was sometime during the third song (which I am pleased to report was “Stereo Sanctity”) that Abby realized she’d lost her lei.  She and Esther had been to the Magic House earlier that day, where they’d both been given colored leis.  They both wore them to the show, but sometime in between the bounce house and showtime, Abby dropped hers.  She started crying and insisting that Callie help her find it.  So off they went.

Meanwhile, Esther was dancing up a storm, clearly enjoying every minute of Sonic Youth and not being too bothered about the feedback.  A couple songs later, Callie and Abby came back.  One song later, Abby started crying even harder, entering the first stages of toddler meltdown.  I tried to bring her back to look some more, figuring I’d give Callie some time to enjoy the band, but Abby went limp and insisted that Mommy do it.

One or two more songs.  Esther tripped on a step while dancing, incurring a minor scrape.  Now it was her turn to enter meltdown territory, insisting on a bandage and tearfully demanding to be taken home now.  A few minutes later, Callie and Abby came back.  They hadn’t found the lei.  Both kids were exhausted and cranky.  We realized that it was probably time to put them to bed.  Well, we knew parenthood came with sacrifices.

There was a brief moment of levity as Esther took pictures under the Arch and Abby played with a Frisbee, but soon she kicked into full Code Red meltdown mode.  She did not stop screaming all the way to the car: “YOU FORGOT MY NECKLACE!  MOMMY, YOU FORGOT MY NECKLACE!  MOMMY, GO BACK!!!!”  Later I learned that Sonic Youth encored with, sob, “Death Valley 69,” my favorite SY song and one I figured they’d retired years ago.  I’m glad I didn’t know this as we were driving home.

Having said that, I’m still glad the girls came with us.  Esther was enthralled by the whole experience; I hope she remembers it when she’s older.  Before putting her to bed, I asked her what she liked best about the show, and she answered, “I liked the guy who played guitar.  The guy who went like this with his hair: (imitating a Thurston Moore swishing motion).”  What can I say?  The smart girls all like Thurston.