“Pranks 2” by V. Vale (RE/Search)

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The first Pranks book (1987) is a potential world shaker; if approached at the right time by a suitably open mind, its tales of imaginative tweaking of perceived reality—through elaborate ruses, pointless stunts, pre-caller-ID phone shenanigans, etc.—present a truly alternative way of living in which play is as highly valued as work, and a person can negotiate their universe on their own terms. I don't think I've ever felt laughter build so organically than when reading Boyd Rice's tales of suburban malfeasance, which I consider classics of American humor. The range of interviews in the 1987 volume nipped neatly between political agitators, performance artists, terrorists and troublemakers, offering innumerable worm holes through which one could approach prank nirvana. Inevitably, when reviewing the sequel to a beloved book, the original looms large. Pranks 2 is a bit smaller and more structured, with the interviews filed under Culture Hacking (Jihad Jerry, Jello Biafra), Groups (Suicide Club, Billboard Liberation Front), On-Line Satire (Frank Discussion), Comedy (Paul Krassner, Margaret Cho), and Art As Prank (John Waters, Ron English, SRL). Vale seems disinclined to edit the conversations, which sometimes wind dangerously far from the book's supposed subject. (Does Julia Solis' urban adventuring league really belong here? Or Margaret Cho, who flatly admits she's no prankster, despite her support of Reverend Al's delightful Art of Bleeding activities?) Nonetheless, most of the featured subjects and organizations do serious and provocative work, and it's instructive to learn more about their aims and activities, legal battles and triumphs. Who knew that Lydia Lunch's hobby is getting cops to pose for photos? As a longtime member of the apostate L.A. branch of the Cacophony Society, I was fascinated to learn more about its origins in the S.F. Suicide Club, yet found that Rev. Al's interview about Cacophony itself scarcely reflected my own experiences (not surprising, since Al organized/attended hundreds more events than I did). One thing this sequel makes very clear is how much the world and communication has changed in twenty years, and how pranksters have had to shift with the times to continue their activities. The personal stakes in the US and UK are so much higher now, it's hardly surprising that political and idealistic pranksters have taken the fore, but I find I miss the surrealism of phantom raccoons in grocery stores and dayglo guns tossed into Disneyland tableaux very much. That world is gone now, or if not gone, much harder to visit—except in imagination, which both volumes of Pranks feed. (That's an Amazon link below, but consider buying direct from the RE/Search website, as they were among the small publishers hit by the Publishers Group West bankruptcy.)

Being a bit clueless about cool new things, I’ve o…

Being a bit clueless about cool new things, I’ve only yesterday heard about Library Thing, which is an online database of your books. I’ve only added a couple of shelves from home and my two shelves of history and public policy books from work to my online library, but I sorta love this chance to put my taste and refinement (or lack thereof) on display. I’m not an extrovert, but I am inordinately proud of the things I like. The books and CDs and movies I love and the songs I’ve written and the little articles I’ve published here and there are all little lights of mine, and I’m going to let them shine. Self-indulgence, thy name is me.

My position is a little naive, to be sure, but I believe that if you are a person interested in the arts, your aesthetic preferences indicate something about your character and your humanity. This isn’t a blanket truth; the best point of Nick Hornby’s High Fidelity is that there are many wonderful people out there who are utterly unconcerned with the value of art. Their choices of, say, Celine Dion or John Grisham say very little about their character and humanity. However, if you found out that a rock critic, someone who has essentially appointed himself or herself as a public philosopher of aesthetics, thinks that all guitar solos, and in fact, all extended pieces of music by rock bands, are masturbatory and pretentious, shouldn’t this ear-blindness call this person’s viewpoint into question? I’m willing to cut Noel Murray some slack, because although he’s overly concerned with how his opinions fit in with critical hegemony, he’s willing to point out that his tastes change and that he’s willing to try to appreciate music that may be outside of his comfort zone. Kyle Ryan, however, comes across as a bit of a douche, lumping any instrumental music with a long running time together, as if Can = The Grateful Dead = Tortoise = Funkadelic = Rhys Chatham = Sleep = Sonic Youth. Although I’d guess that he’d claim that his aesthetics are formed in punk (which may be true), he took the most conservative (and worst possible) lesson from punk. Punk bands had a lot of different flavors. They weren’t all the Ramones, and they didn’t all hate prog-rock. Many of the first- and second-wave punk bands were art-bands, as likely to find influence in King Crimson as in the Stooges. Any music critic for a ‘zine with a national footprint ought to know his history well enough to know that.

TWO 60S GIRL POP KNOCKOUTS

What can I say about these two – I just quickly uploaded the two songs I consider to be the creme-de-la-creme of 1960s girl-group pop music, and now I wish to share them with you. DIANE RAY‘s “Please Don’t Talk To The Lifeguard” first reached my eyes on the Boyd Rice-curated “Music For Pussycats” compilation, and I’ve since found the song on at least two other CD collections – so it’s out there if you need it. Total teen trash. Love it. SUSAN LYNNE‘s “Don’t Drag No More” will tear your heart out and turn your insides to slush, such is the power of its baleful warnings. I beseech you – learn these songs, master them within your head, and tell five friends this instant how important it is that they download them from Detailed Twang. Thanks.

Do I still love the musicians? Not so much.

Music writers are like restaurant employees. Don’t be a dick during your interview. Think about it when we have book deals and you’re in the cut-out bin. Rob Crow recently pulled some attitude out of his expansive cargo, uh, cargo, SHORTS?!?!…..what the hell are those things? That’s ok. It’s thrifty not to discard what you wore to a Quicksand show in 1992.

The following is courtesy of my writerly colleague David Dunlap Jr.

(from the Memphis Flyer)

Beware of Geek
Living well hasn’t mellowed indie rocker Rob Crow.
BY DAVID DUNLAP | MARCH 8, 2007

At first glance, Rob Crow seems to be a likable enough guy. He’s got a great voice and a disarmingly schlubby appearance. On the artwork of his most recent solo release, Living Well, Crow is pictured with his new bride and even newer baby in a tableau of indie-rock domestic bliss. The press release for his latest even states that “the intensely personal lyrics document Crow’s courtship with his wife, their marriage, and the subsequent birth of their first child.â€Â He’s a geek of the highest order; his popular band, Pinback, is named after a character from John Carpenter’s sci-fi comedy Dark Star, and on the song “Jedi Outcast,â€Â he sings, “Remember Yoda!/And what he said/’There is no try/ There is only do.’â€Â

Well, despite all of these endearing qualities, it seems that someone out there doesn’t think that Crow is such a mensch. On Living Well, there are not one but two versions of a song entitled “I Hate Rob Crowâ€Â — an album and a single version, naturally. The song is pleasant enough, and the blandly cryptic lyrics (a Crow staple) — “Wanted to be/Some kind of mess/The pain of it all/And not too impressedâ€Â — don’t offer any clues to what could have inspired such vitriol. No help comes from the song’s goofy video, which features Crow stumbling into an operating room and singing into a microphone attached to an intestine. Reportedly, the title came from a “particularly unpleasant roommate Crow had earlier in his life,â€Â though Crow himself declines to comment on the

song’s origin. Perhaps it could have something do with his off-putting personality and anemic sense of humor. You’d think that Crow, the newly minted family man, would have found inner peace and that the guy who called a previous band Goblin Cock would be a laugh riot. Well, you’d be wrong on both counts.

Despite his new family, Crow remains the tortured artist. When asked if it was harder finding inspiration after settling down, he tersely replies, “I’m never satisfied.â€Â Crow is a staunch vegan and an avid comic-book collector, and he exemplifies the more unsavory personality traits that both of those stereotypes confer. He is known to be sanctimonious and more demanding on contract riders than an artist with 10 times the star power. Though an indie-rock vet, he was more than happy to lend his sweet voice to a Clorox commercial, and Pinback contributed a lackadaisical cover of Black Flag’s “Wastedâ€Â to the cred-sapping compilation Music from the OC: Mix 6: Covering Our Tracks.

Surely, though, the guy who titled a Goblin Cock release Bagged and Boarded (a comic-book term) must have a hell of a funny bone. Again, no. The humor with Goblin Cock, his heavy-metal outlet, ended with the name and the song titles. Some of the more refined fans might claim that the humor never even began. In a fit of literal-mindedness, the not-ready-for-big-box-store-display artwork for Bagged and Boarded depicted the ridiculously large member of some underworld demon. Though Goblin Cock did, indeed, set off false metal alarms for the genre’s purists, Crow claims, “It’s not jokey. I’m just doing the band I want to see.â€Â

On Living Well, Crow is still flying his geek flag, though not in a silly way. He titles one song “Liefeld,â€Â after an oft-derided comic-book artist named Rob Liefeld, whose popularity peaked in the ’90s. Crow joins the chorus of Liefeld detractors, and the lyrics seem to be a critique of Liefeld’s drawing style and his trademark anatomical inconsistencies — “I know it’s strange, their eyes don’t match.â€Â

Crow’s sparkling personality aside, the short, melodic songs on Living Well are enough to sate fans of Pinback until the duo releases its next record. Crow handles everything on the record — from playing to recording to producing. He compensates for his lack of rhythmic prowess by crafting complicated XTC-esque melodies with his guitar (â€ÂOver Your Heartâ€Â). Overall, Living Well is a tuneful, pretty bore. The trick, then, is how to translate the low-key home-recorded solipsism of the songs on the album into ones played by a full band in a live setting. So far, Crow seems happy with the results.

“The tour is going really well,â€Â Crow says. “To the point where I wish I could record some of it over again with this band.â€Â

While the band may be gelling on tour, the pressures of what Bob Seger chronicled in “Turn the Pageâ€Â may be getting to Crow. When asked about balancing family life with life on the road, he replies, “Well, right now I’m just trying to finish this interview so I can spend some time with my family who came to visit me in New York for a couple of days between shows. It can be stressful.â€Â

Perhaps the doughy malcontent isn’t living as well as it might seem.

Yet Another Decent Interval

So tomorrow morning I’m off to SXSW again. Last year I said I’d be reporting from the scene, but got so weirded out by culture shock that I never got around to it, so this time I’m not making any promises. I’ll probably be uploading some food reports to Dishola, and I’ll undoubtedly expand on them here, especially if I find some great new places, but usually the nights of music leave me so exhausted and depressed with the sheer volume of mediocre stuff that I lack any enthusiasm for writing about it afterwards. Or that’s what happened last year.

Actually, one of the more interesting SXSW-related activities is happening before the event, in the form of a blog discussing the impact of technology on the record biz. Even if you don’t follow some of the more intricate details, you’ll be able to pick up on how dire things are even for those heroic little guys who’re supposed to be profiting from the dinosaurs’ malaise. And this year I’m actually on a panel, or, rather, I’m conducting one of the live interviews with an old hero of mine, Joe Boyd, who’s probably produced at least one of your all-time favorite records, even if you haven’t heard it yet.

I’ll also be headed off to Marin County (got a super-cheap ticket) to pay my respects to the about-to-vanish Village Music, but unless I win the lottery in Texas offering my respects is about all I’m going to be able to do. But I’ll be seeing some folks from the Well, as well as some old friends from when I lived there. Then it’ll be back to Texas for a couple of days, and back here at the end of March.

And a couple of days after that, you just know I’ll be pissed off at Berlin again.

CAN YOU DIG DAT HOLE?

Back in the 80s I used to read Gerard Cosloy’s CONFLICT magazine so intently that his bands, the ones I’d never even heard, often became my bands, and since he incessantly and most often deservingly hyped up the ones he dug, I knew their ins & outs pretty well. One I always wanted to hear was DIG DAT HOLE. They were often described in Conflict’s pages as being a wild-ass BIRTHDAY PARTY-inspired antecedent, very much in the same school as some other great bands of the day like the Laughing Hyenas and Pussy Galore. They actually imploded even before they got a 45 out the door, and all that ever existed from them was a single cassette tape (pictured here) and an aborted LP, neither of which I’ve heard in their entirety. The story I got from the interweb says that 2 of the guys moved to NYC and quickly started COP SHOOT COP. They were interesting for about ten minutes in 1990, weren’t they?

So here it is in 2007 and I’ve procured a solitary song of theirs from the cassette and aborted LP called “A Similar End”, and – whoa. Absolutely fucking scorch. This has aged like a bottle of fine barleywine, and blows away a fair majority of the musical landscape between 1987 and 2007, wouldn’t you say? Wow.

Download DIG DAT HOLE – “A Similar End” (from tape and aborted LP)