Open Your Wallets and Submerge Yourself

A journalist/DJ recently posed the question: What is your favorite 12" of the last decade? Interesting, since it could encompass an album, single or EP, and immediately piqued the thinker's interest because it waxes nostalgic (wahhhh pun) of, in this digital age, something physically owned and cherished.

His own answer was the "Inspiration / Transition" vinyl from Underground Resistance, which - honestly, to my surprise - is still in stock and for sale. Call me foolish, but I figure UR is hard to find on wax, but then again how often do I shop for physical formats of music? (Sidenote: This past week, I purchased Jawbox: For Your Own Special Sweetheart, Hanne Hukkelberg: Rykestrabe 68 on CD and Function: Variance 3/4, Boards Of Canada: Geogaddi (2 track promo) on vinyl...I guess I am full of shit.)

Anyway, it was a pleasure to find out about Submerge, a place to buy all things Detroit. I hadn't realized it re-opened on East Grand Blvd in 2002. The website is not the best, but it's a great place to start and you can't go wrong with anything on sale here. Need a UR mousepad? Done. How about the Interstellar Transmissions book? Versions 1 and 2 are both available. Plenty of music to empty your wallet and fill your soul, as well.

Website: Submerge

I don't purchase many books or CDs anymore, and that is due to the fact that I move often. My CD and (later, additionally) books collections have always been very important to me. If I had "all the money in the world" I'd have libraries in my apartments...as I'd purchase several of modest sizes in a handful of my favorite cities.

When I buy a book or CD, it's often a big deal now because I think of it as something that sucks of space - a few more ounces to add to the heavy load I need to carry around or a few more inches of matter I need to fit into some shelf somewhere. Still, there are some things I could never part with, and one is Banned in DC. Now with Grunge coming out, I am as excited as ever to own it, and I will wait to go to my favorite bookstore to get my hands on it, rather than to order it and check the mailbox on a daily basis.

I love everything about American punk and grunge subcultures. I often wish I was just five years older so I would not have been experiencing the height of them all from a sheltered suburban town right after the onset of puberty, but thems the breaks. Either way, there is no real reason why this book shouldn't be purchased, and if you don't want to wait then you can go straight to Amazon and do some damage.

Who's [Not Really] Watching the Watchmen?

Often I lay down to sleep at an ungodly hour, knowing that if I don't pass out soon it's going to hurt in the morning. Nevertheless, a recent memory comes to mind and morphs into an inquiry which soon snowballs into a larger idea. That's when I find myself grabbing for my laptop in the dark so I can discuss...my thoughts on Watchmen.



Last summer, we had a small clique that went to see the Dark Knight a few times in the theater. One of the highlights was actually the first 10 seconds of the Watchmen trailer, where I believe a friend and I were the first two people in the packed theater to recognize it and gasped in long-awaited excitement. That we went home and immediately rewatched the trailer several more times was a common follow-up for many Dark Knight viewers, and considering the brilliant success that movie did, the popularity was seamlessly transitioned from Nolan's hand to Snyder's. Watchmen is, no doubt, an incredible book and would have garnered a great amount of promotion and attention on its own, but with the initially strong coattails of DK to hold on to, there was an even greater head start.

Days before opening weekend, I fretted a bit about not having a ticket. For the first time, I was insistent that it be IMAX and when plans had to be canceled on opening day I nearly had a minor panic attack. Eventually, I ended up seeing it (in IMAX) on the last showing of opening weekend. At times, it was one of the most loyal frame-by-frame depictions I'd seen, given that the Tales Of the Black Freighter series was taken out for the film, and the ending was altered...sort of. There were moments where the characters and scenery were so convincing that to see them come alive on screen was such a rush.

The part that boggles my mind tonight is thinking of how it's been about a month since the film's release, and no one seems to care. The Dark Knight had longevity that lasted nearly the whole summer (and perhaps that has much to do with the advantage of being a summer blockbuster), but it seems that my interest in this movie quickly waned. The quick decision was that it was/would be so good it required a second viewing, but it was much like mediocre sex: it did the trick, but by the time you've gone back to your apartment, taken a shower, and the fresh pot of coffee has brewed you are rather indifferent to the experience. Now the Black Freighter DVD is on its way and while Watchmen is still in theaters, it's really lost its explosive hype. Hardly anyone reviewed it as groundbreaking and life-changing, but I think most critics feel that it was a proper homage to something that required a rare form of dedication. I certainly do.

The Way Out My Ass

It's funny how the Los Angeles Times and I just don't agree on some things. The very first sentence of Laurel Maury's review of Jesse Ball's The Way Through Doors (Vintage) begins: "Jesse Ball's 'The Way Through Doors' is a lovely, unpretentious little thing -- about as promising and sweet as a second novel can be."

Rarely do I abandon a novel before reading it to the end. Something just doesn't feel right about it, but given the right (or wrong, rather) item I have been known to discard out of windows, burn with fire or simply put a book in the recycling. It happens so rarely that I find something so awful that I choose not to pass it on to someone with differing tastes that might enjoy it. Ball's second novel truly hurt the nerve endings in my eyes as they rolled harder within their sockets with such ferocity and frequency. Not pretentious? This is probably the most pretentious garbage I have ever read.

The metaphysical idea of a door is such an expansive subject to take on. It's an entrance. It's an exit. It's a portal. What's on the other side? What is on this side? Inject this into the personal lives and relationships of fictional characters and put them in settings from ministry offices to Coney Island boardwalks and you've got yourself a difficult format to tackle. I believe this book would be loved by all that appreciate the most abstract of novels, but while I endlessly love just about everything Borges has ever written I once again see how I am very much a cut 'n dry kind of story girl. I recently read Collins' Beginner's Greek and Harry, Revised, the debut novel from Elegant Variation blogger Mark Sarvas. Both were wonderful.

Is there an acquaintance that you generally avoid talking to because his or her storytelling seems to be solely for their own satisfaction, and not with any attempt to give you, their unfortunate listener, any rope to grab on to in their endless babble? Yes? Well, then you may have already read this book. The easy way out for me is to say that Ball simply falls too deep into abstraction and his poetic backbone that he abandons stories with his whimsical pace. I say this because while my instinct is "No, finish this book and then...then if you still declare its suckage, write about it"...I didn't. I returned it to the library from whence it came, and breathed a rather audible sigh of relief while doing so.

An Incredible Disappointment: Wild Boy

Some might say that writing a book review when you've only taken in 57 out of 314 pages is like listening to the first 3 tracks out of 12 on a new record and writing a review. If the book is Andy Taylor's Wild Boy: My Life In Duran Duran, and you've read the first 57 pages, well...I'm willing to be you would agree that this is THE BIGGEST LOAD OF BOLLOCKS IN PRINT.

I'd imagine Mr. Taylor had this ghostwritten or heavily edited by someone who'd acquired a BA in English and/or Literature, but godddddd this book is bloody awful. It is boring and the "author" portrays himself as too innocent to have created such a horrid drug habit on his lonesome. I enjoy very much what Playback:STL has to say about this:

"As Taylor relates tale after tale in the band's history, we as readers begin to lose a bit of respect for our former idols. John Taylor and drug- and booze-filled womanizer? Simon a self-centered frontman disillusioned by a management arrangement gone south? Nick, a spoiled brat and disagreeable chap who becomes the first to break the no-girlfriends-on-tour rule?

Oh sure, Andy Taylor has his share of problems, too much alcohol and cocaine among them. And, as you might expect, he comes out shining next to his bandmates; the effects of his own drug use are, it seems, minimized. He also appears to be the most level and centered within the band." - link

I've been sitting on this book for months...wondering, waiting to see if it would be great. I haven't even read The Dirt, but I'm already pining for some rock n' roll tale-telling in which a star from decades passed isn't going to write things like: "It wasn't so long ago that I'd been a penniless nineteen-year-old in the North East and here I was, in a champagne paradise with a model for a girlfriend. I remember thinking, If the boys could see me now!" or "I had no way of knowing it as I sat on the train, but I was about to join a band that would eventually become Lady Diana's favorite rock act."

Here's another bit from a random Amazon.com reviewer which I love for hitting the nail right on its head:

"The rest of the story, well, anyone with a brain can guess: Immediate rise to fame, living in excess, emotional and physical exhaustion, addictions, celebrity gatherings, artistic staleness, solo projects, marriages, divorces, come-back tour, etc. The majority of Taylor's book is basically the story of almost any other rock or pop band that has lasted this long. Thus, the book is lacking a real, original story. And from what I surmise, that unique story could have been told if he had the guts to REALLY get into the thick of the band's disagreements and ego conflicts. But again, he takes the low road on this subject, which ultimately results in a somewhat boring read." - link

I could cut my wrists with the edges of these pages just to make the poor and lame choices in this account's vernacular stop. Instead, I will move on to something else. Taylor is too chummy, and we are left to believe that in the end the poor guy got caught up in an incredibly typical situation. Completely unmoved, and if he didn't write this himself, he must fire this ghostwriter...