Part 5: There's a tipsy ghost on the edge of my couch

If you weren't fortunate to be on the planet at one of their gigs circa 1981, here's Drinking With An Angel -- the song with which the 'Burbs usually ended their shows.

Seeing this is like being in Plato's Cave. You're only seeing a shadow of what it was really like to be there, but not the intense reality.

Beej would be sweating profusely, crowd surf for awhile, and then climb up the tallest structure he could find to scream out in agony and want for his missing angel and his misplaced juice. Bruce Allen would bring the song to a blistering crescendo and show us why he was the hottest guitarist in town (apologies to Steve Brantseg) -- and then it was over, like a well-timed orgasm.

We'd shuffle out into the night air, drenched through, grinning broadly, and -- once the adrenalin wore off -- sated until the next show.

I'm gonna go on the wagon.
I'm gonna ride that wagon to Heaven.
I'll just have one more for the road.

Part 4: Listen UP!

Your mayor's arrived.

Train's a-comin' -- with the boys.

The Suburbs play Music For Boys in 1981.

Part 3: "NOT your ordinary rock band"

The Suburbs play Yo Sa Ba II Noni in 1981.

A rare video document of the Beejtar in action!

What do you suppose Beej was on, anyway?

Part 2: Well they really make me flip

The Suburbs doing their classic Girlfriend in 1981.

Part 1: "An irresistible and eccentric rock & roll combo"

The Suburbs on KTCA-Channel 2's Night Times Variety in 1981. Here's Cigarette In Backwards.

Dig the hostess shaking her jumpsuit-clad booty after the introduction!

Why May is my favorite month

The place: somewhere in south Minneapolis.



The setting: Someone's back yard. Outdoor sculpture. Peonies ready to bust open. Other lush vegetation. Blossoms beaming and fluorescing in the fading light. A hot charcoal grill.



The menu: Grass-fed ribeyes. Fresh morels sauteed in butter. A delicious pasta salad. Roasted rosemary potatoes. Strawberries that explode in your mouth. Stella Artois. Summit Pale Ale. Some kinda red wine.



Activities: Forgetting about the previous 12 hours. Sidewalk chalk. Blowing off Art-A-Whirl parties to play tag with little girls. A jump rope for three. Discussing effective methods of squirrel control. Pro Tools in the basement studio. Crashing the neighbor's barbecue. Just Be-ing. A head full of fuzz. Big smiling. Big Fun.

Hotel Haiku VIII

Between Fargo and
Minneapolis -- yay! Here
comes a new supply!

Photo: Spotted on I94: the Bimbo Truck.

Resistance is futile

I'm sitting with some of the Abernathys at the Ridgewood Club in Minneapolis. I have a dime-sized chemical blister on the center of my tongue courtesy of an extra-large Thai Chicken from Uptown Pizza. My nose is running uncontrollably. (Yes, I tipped Mr. Pizza Guy large to prevent a derogatory blog entry about the pizzavores here at Ridgewood.)

While the other two Abernathys are surfing the web and arguing about tile selections for their new bathroom, I stumbled across this.



I know I will not get a wink of sleep tonight after reading it. Go ahead -- I dare you.

Pigs...

A police officer in Michigan and his wife made pot brownies with some confiscated doop and ate the whole pan. They got so paranoid they thought they were dying, and called 911. From a transcript:

Sanchez:I think I'm having an overdose. and so is my wife.
911: Overdose of what?
Sanchez: Marijuana...
Sanchez: We made brownies. and I think we're dead. I really do...
Sanchez: Time is going by really, really, really slow...
Sanchez: What's the score in the Red Wings game?
911: I've got no clue, i don't watch the Red Wings.
Sanchez: I just wanted to make sure this isn't some kind of hallucination I'm having.

You can read the AP article here, and hear the actual call here.

Wak!

Did you ever wonder about Donald Duck?

He appeared to be a sailor who ran around without any pants on. Those two characteristics always made me wonder what he was like when he wasn't entertaining us children in comics and cartoons, and why in the world Daisy let those three nephews hang around him.

Now we have even more evidence of his sailor man activities -- here's an anti-VD poster of him upset because he has no condom. You can bid on this piece of art here.

Must be nice to have a rich uncle.

You know you want one.

The special limited edition, complete 2-season box set of LAND OF THE GIANTS is heading our way this summer (24th July 2007). "Only" two Benjamins, but on sale for a buck fitty! Back in those days, two seasons were good for 51 episodes. I kinda gotta think that Sopranos or Entourage wouldn't be nearly as half as good as they are if they had to crank out an episode a week for half a year.

I don't remember much about LAND OF THE GIANTS, other than that it was always fun to see the characters climbing up a giant phone cord, or getting trapped beneath a giant thimble, or being harassed by a gargantuan cat. Oh, and "Valerie" gave me a giant something when I'd see her giant something elses. OK, so I was a pervy kindergartner.

Bonus! if you want to be a member of the Giants family, you can get a free membership here.

Postscript: my friend Kevin sent me this. I know if *I* was going on a spaceship, I'd bring my bathing suit, too.

Laff Riot

The Perry Bible Fellowship is the best comic running. There's little else that makes me spit so much coffee (or bits of Twizzlers or Cheese Nips or Swedish Fish, or even Summit) all over my keyboard.

Here's a sample:
(Click to enlarge)

Scarlett Johansson Why Don't You Love Me?

That's the best song title of the year, so far! And the song itself is pretty catchy, too.

Jai-Alai Savant is a local Chicago band, and you can listen to Scarlett Johansson... here. Ain't the internets a great thing?

If you're like me, you like your dub best served up on a hot summer day -- let it penetrate your bones and fog your melon. Drink a 12-cup pot of extra-strong coffee first, and you have an idea of the dub punk of Jai-Alai Savant.

Here comes the summer...

Two lost souls in a fish bowl

Rodrigo y Gabriela played an electrifying, sold-out show at Chicago's Vic Theatre in Lakeview last night.

I'd snagged a great seat: front row balcony, and being a total newb after hearing their album only once, wondered what kind of experience I was about to taste.

Describing Rodrigo y Gabriela's music is difficult enough. The act of describing it reminds me of the six blind guys trying to explain the elephant in the room. I've heard it called sensual, passionate, rhythmic, Jazz/Flamenco/Rock on acoustic guitars.

That's just one of the six blind guys describing what he felt of that elephant. I thought it sounded romantic and exciting and might make great dinner date music. To produce a better sonic picture, perhaps a little history is in order.

Rodrigo and Gabriela are originally from Mexico City, met as teenagers, and played in various thrash metal bands. A record label wanted them to record an album, so they talked the label into letting them record in Ixtapa, then did what any young band might do in such an environment: spend the time fucking off and partying. They parted ways with the label, and having no money, got some gigs playing in hotel bars for the tourist set. Not really knowing how to play the bossa nova that was expected of them, they fudged by playing acoustic guitar versions of Slayer, Metallica, and the like. When asked by vacationers, "What kind of music IS this?" they replied, "It's ancient Mexican music." One day they decided to up and go to Europe, so they flew to Paris, and then on to Dublin, arriving with $1,000 in their pockets. Not knowing much English, they soon burned through their money, and ended up busking. They built up their chops and reputation, and took off like a rocket from there. Their album was released last October in the US.

So, the description above of their music is only a sliver, and not accurate at all. The duo sauntered on stage, and the crowd went wild. The Vic holds 1,300 people, and it was the loudest noise I've ever heard 1,300 produce. They had no set list, instead preferring people to shout out songs Freebird-style, and they'd play them. Gabriela plays the percussive, rhythmic part on most songs, and Rodrigo usually does the finger-bleeding leads, though they traded off frequently. The stage banter was great, with Gabriela showing the devil rock horn sign after every song, and going off on long, hilarious stoner tangents while Rodrigo kicked around a soccer ball behind the stage. The F word was a frequent adjective, so one can tell they learned most of their English in Dublin.

And the covers they did were a lot of fun in this metal mariachi style. In an "I Can Name That Tune In One Note" moment, the crowd erupted, Rodrigo pointed to us, and we all sang along to Pink Floyd's "Wish You Were Here". I don't think I've ever sung along to that song in my life, but the words spewed from some unknown place inside me along with 1,299 other fans. And boy, were we good. Other covers included snatches of Smoke On the Water, Hotel California, Dave Brubeck's Take Five and a beautiful flamenco version of Stairway to Heaven with Gabriela on lead.

OK...I can see I'm just another blind guy in the room...best bet is to pick up this album. Or better yet: July 4th, Taste of Chicago, Grant Park.

Or even better yet: July 6th, Minneapolis, Basilica Block Party! :::making devil horn sign:::

4th Annual Codpiece Day

I could've sworn I read somewhere that the Preznit doesn't read email. But if one inspects closely above, it looks as if perhaps he read one of those penis enlargement ones that used to pile up in the junk drawer.

Either that, or they hired some intern at the White House who's handy with Photoshop. What else could explain the difference in the photo above?

The image on the left is from the official White House website. The image on the right is how it originally appeared.

And here's another interesting example of how history has been re-written -- this time with a doctored video:

Hotel Haiku VII

TV in my room
is so old, ESPN
scores are all cut off!

Quite possibly world's worst Holiday Inn (not counting Lexington or Miami), Indianapolis.

Photo: Drag.