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You are what you read. And what you see. And what you hear.
I am Heath.
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Friday, June 21, 2002
Shelf-Publishing I'm editing an anthology for Capstone-Wiley in the UK tentatively entitled Off Message: Voices from the Business Underground. It'll be a collection of 30-40 essays, articles, excerpts, and comics gleaned from books, magazines, newsletters, Web sites, speech transcripts, email forwards, found text, zines, and minicomics. The idea is to compile business-, technology-, and work-related material that goes against conventional wisdom -- and occasionally against the grain. I'm currently wrapping up the collection of the pieces I'm suggesting we include -- and I'd welcome your input. If you have any items to recommend for inclusion in the book, email me. Think critical. Think funny. Think productive. Think progressive. Think radical. This'll be the snarky, punk-rock version of The Best Business Stories of the Year. And it'd be great to see what you come up with. Rock Shows of Note XXV Yay! Another fun Anchormen show. Lots of friends in attendance. Lots of cute girls in the crowd -- including the cutest girl. And scads of good bands. It was ostensibly Singles Night at TT the Bear's because the Fightin Dogs and Choo Choo la Rouge were celebrating the release of their split CD single -- by giving it away! We played first, after some confusion with the sound guy. He came up to us at five to 9 saying we had three minutes to get on stage. The lineup posted by the door said we went on at 9:10. There weren't many people in the bar yet, so we dawdled a little. Then he came back to tell us that we were cutting into our set time. We asked about the schedule by the door and he said it was wrong. So we got on stage. In about 25 minutes, we played 11 songs, including a request for "Lysander Spooner." The girls in front seemed to smile when I tried to get people to sing along, and there was guy over on the side who was dancing around while we played. That was cool. Thank you, Dancing Man! People responded well to the new songs, and folks seemed to appreciate our usual lack of organization and caustic stage banter. Even though we haven't practiced since our last show, we were pretty tight. I didn't forget any words, and my voice didn't crack until the very last song. Anchormen, aweigh! Next up, the Fightin Dogs. I like Dan and Dave a lot, and I like the Fightin Dogs, even though I've never heard them on record and have only caught them live a couple of times -- they're more friends of friends than a band I know well. Dave tells me that their songwriting is inspired by the Fall and REM, but I didn't really catch that. Also, I learned that the songs that Dan sings, he wrote, and the songs that Dave sings, Dave wrote. I'm not sure what this means, but I really only remember Dave singing. I'll have to pay more attention next time. Dan wore a goofy cowboy hat and dangling earrings, so maybe I was trying to ignore him. Their set was pretty solid. I need to see them again because I picture them as more of an overall sound band than a band with discrete songs that I recognize and can hum along to later. Looking forward to listening to the single so I can start recalling some of their songs! Choo Choo la Rouge I've seen before, and Choo Choo la Rouge I'll see again. This was basically their standard set -- they don't seem to do too much new or different show to show -- and lacking an identifiable stage presence or schtick, you're pretty much left with the songs. Which are good! But I look forward to some new material -- hopefully the single is the start of that. Last up, Tracy Husky. I missed their set when they played with us at O'Brien's the night of the explosion, so I was super psyched to see them last night. I guess they (He? The lead singer/guitarist?) performed as a solo act that night, because a friend commented that they were much better as a band. They were OK. Not much struck me, and I don't remember any of the songs I heard. My one remark -- without intending to be chauvinistic -- would be that the woman in the band is absolutely beautiful. And the fact that she only sung one song during the portion of the set I saw is criminal. I don't understand bands that involve women as eye candy -- even if that wasn't the band's intention, she was wearing a slinky red dress, so there you go -- but don't draw on the wonderful sound of men and women singing together. I'm a sucker for male/female harmony parts. I think I heard her launch into a song as I went back into the setup room to snag my backpack before heading home -- and it was a good thing. She should sing more. A good show. Thanks to everyone who came, and special thanks to Choo Choo la Rouge and the Fightin Dogs for inviting us to join the fun. Oh! The show was also Webcast last night on RadioBoston. Media Dietician Jacob Wolfsheimer might have even listened to it. Perhaps he'll weigh in with his own report. (Hint, hint.) If you tune in at 9 p.m. ET tonight, you'll be able to catch 71 Sunbeam's CD release party. I'll be in the crowd and will try to find the camera so I can wave. Magazine Me XII Randall Lane, former editor-in-chief of once Boston-based and now-defunct men's mag POV, is launching a new magazine this fall. Entitled Justice, the book is reportedly going to cover the intersection between celebrity and the criminal and civil justice system. Think George for the Court TV crowd. People meets True Detective. A quick Google search indicates that there are already several magazines titled Justice, including a horribly designed trade magazine for juvenile justice professionals and a quarterly journal for members of the International Association of Jewish Lawyers and Jurists, but Media Life reports that Lane's Justice will target its audience at supermarket checkout counters. Congrats, Randall! Nice to see a new title with you at the head. Thursday, June 20, 2002
Disgruntled Media Workers II Following the murder-suicides at the Providence Journal -- and as part of the Providence Newspaper Guild protest that members have been working without contracts since 1999 -- staffers are staging a byline strike. The newspaper itself has given the strike little ink, but Sheila Lennon, the paper's features and interactive producer, is documenting the action in her Journal-served blog Subterranean Homepage News. In her frequent doses of "bottom-up journalism from the pros," Sheila touches on work-related issues at the Journal, Web coverage of journalism, and the blog phenom. It's good to see the Journal supporting a staffer's blog work, but it'd also be good if members of the Guild got a contract. Thanks to BoingBoing. The Movie I Watched Last Night XXII Inspired by Joe, proprietor of my new box hostel, who watched no fewer than six (6) movies this past weekend, I took in a double feature last night. American Pie Not quite sure what all the hype surrounding this movie was all about because I didn't find it very funny or shocking. There were some bright spots -- Eugene Levy and Eddie Kaye Thomas, whose roles I particularly enjoyed -- but otherwise I thought the plot was passe, most of the acting substandard, and the movie undeserving of all the praise it garnered, much less a sequel. That said, I was surprised by how much the scene in which Chris Klein's character left his lacrosse game early in order to compete in a jazz choir contest with Mena Suvari's character touched me. One line even made me tear up. Weird! Oh, Alyson Hannigan's portrayal of a band geek was also fun, especially with her trademark line, "One time? At band camp?" But on the whole, feh. Kramer vs. Kramer OK, so I was 6 when this was released, and it predates Dustin Hoffman's role in Tootsie by three years, but I remember the Mad magazine parody of this film quite fondly, as well. As one of the first motion pictures to seriously address divorce and the effects it can have on a couple, their friends, and their children, it's a slightly mixed message movie. Message one: If you're a hustle-bustle ad exec in New York, chances are your partner's unhappy and you're on the way to a divorce. Message two: If you abandon your son unnanounced, move to California, and seek therapy before returning a year and a half later to claim custody, you're still totally fit as a mother. Message three: You can't raise your son single-handedly without losing your job. Some of those messages might actually be valid, but I felt like this movie -- while good -- could have had more of a point. Dustin Hoffman's character doesn't really redeem himself as a reinvented parent. And Meryl Streep's character's ambiguous decision at the end not to take the custody she won in court leaves viewers hanging. That decision might have had more repercussions on everyone involved -- at least legally -- than what had happened so far. But maybe that's why the movie just stopped: the legal denouement would've been boring -- and perhaps the ambiguity was the overarching theme. Maybe it's for the best that Justin Henry's character stayed with his father in the end. Trivial bit: Henry was the youngest person ever nominated for an Oscar (supporting actor) -- he was 8 when the movie was released. The Science of Superheroes I think I'll take that headline. The BBC offers an interesting guide to the science behind comic-book characters' superpowers. Why can Spider-Man climb walls? How does Wonder Woman's lariat make people tell the truth? What's up with Magneto's levitating all the time? The BBC has the inside line. Thanks to Metafilter. Wednesday, June 19, 2002
Party to Record Releases IV Psych! We're talking about books now. Pandemonium Books & Games, a cozy little science-fiction book store on Harvard Square, offers a New Releases email newsletter, too. It's a small shop that's run by Tyler, brother of my friend Tory, and the newsletter is long on content. Twice a month, Tyler emails folks information about new anthologies, gaming fiction, miniatures, games, hard covers, magazines, media tie-ins, and paperbacks. The emails are basically just lists of new products, but there's a lot of stuff here. Often, the newsletter will trigger a visit to the store -- especially because the New Releases section of the Web site is so out of date. This'll only be useful for folks in the Boston area because Pandemonium doesn't offer online ordering, but everyone might find this funny: Stuff We Don't Carry. Might. I said might. P.S. On the site, it's not totally clear how to sign up for the newsletter. Email Tyler if you'd like in on the list. Mixed Drinks and Mingling V The snapshots Alex took at the May 29 MediaBistro event are now available. Here's a dreamy picture of yours truly: 
Heath can't believe he caught the egg! The lady beside me is none other than Carmen Noble of eWeek. Rumor is that she reads Media Diet. The Best of the Web III The Webby Awards Event was held last night in San Francisco, and this year's winners were announced. In the Community category, for which I was a nominating judge, Idealist.org took both Webby Award and the People's Voice Award. I'm rather surprised that the folks involved in the Warren Ellis Forum didn't better rally to the cause. 'Tis the Season to Be... AWOL VII I'm not going anywhere right away, but I am planning a trip home to Wisconsin in early July. When my travel agent asked me what central Wisconsin airport I wanted, I thought, "The one called Central Wisconsin Airport," but I had to check. Lo and behold, the Wisconsin Department of Transportation offers a list of every single airport in the state -- regardless of their size and service. Poking around a little more, I found these directories of every single airport in the United States and the world. In college, my friend used to go to O'Hare to study for midterms and finals. Other people enjoy planespotting, an odd little hobby. They do things like making lists of airports. Hardcore Logo II I would like a logo for Media Diet. I would like someone who frequents the blog to design or draw it. You will receive credit and a link. Submissions are welcome. Sites on the Side of the Road V I know the CoF Roadshow isn't that original an idea -- and that Fast Company isn't the first magazine to go on a road trip -- but now Fortune is in on the game. "Roadtripping in search of the technological future," a Fortune staffer visited eitght college campuses and met with 127 "kids" over the course of 33 days to report on 13 cool companies. There are some impressive organizations in the final roundup -- congrats, Blogger! -- and it's good to know we can still call university students "kids." These Links Were Made for Breaking? III In a surprising display of tight-fistedness, NPR prohibits anyone anywhere from linking to any part of NPR's Web site -- without their express written consent. This makes no sense. Like the Dallas Morning News, NPR is in the information business -- and it seems to be in their best interest that people go to their site. And it seems that links on other Web sites could, um, do drive some of their traffic. I can understand their concerns with permanent links on a home page that incorporates the logo or other IP -- much less framing -- but linking to any NPR page in any way whatsoever? Sheer silliness to limit this activity. This is like Time magazine prohibiting people from putting the magazine on newsstands. As before, my solution? Boycott. If I can't link directly to a Web site I'm interested in sharing with people, I'm not going to link at all. I encourage you to do the same. While I did include NPR's link permission request form, I did not fill it out, and I will not share NPR links in the future. They haven't earned our attention. Like Orb says, "What part of public don't they understand in the name National Public Radio?" Cory Doctorow's involved in an active discussion of the legal implications of this over at BoingBoing. Tuesday, June 18, 2002
Doctor, Steal Thyself II Huh. So I just called my new doctor -- the primary care physician I switched to June 14 -- to schedule a physical. And even though Cigna could assign him as my PCP, he's not actually taking any new patients. Any new non-HIV patients, that is. I don't understand several things. How can I belong to an HMO and have such troubles actually finding a doctor? How can Cigna assign a PCP if the doctor's not actually taking new patients? How can a doctor limit their practice to patients with HIV? It'd be good to have a doctor. It'd be good to get a physical -- I haven't been to the doctor in years. I'm also not impressed by Cigna's customer service. I emailed the customer service rep back asking why they'd been able to assign me to a doctor not taking new patients -- and minutes later to inform them that their Provider Directory online wasn't working -- and I got snubbed: "Thank you for your follow-up to your inquiry. This case has been completed by our Internet Customer Service Team. Should you require additional attention regarding this matter, please contact Member Services at the toll-free number on the participant's CIGNA HealthCare ID card." What's the point in offering online customer service if they don't actually do anything -- much less answer questions -- outside of referring you to a phone number? And... can anyone in the Boston area recommend a doctor? Especially if you're in Cigna. Email me. NetWork III It took three separate recommendations from different directions to get me to finally cross the threshold and check out Ryze, a business networking community. Now that I'm inside, I'm finding all sorts of friends and mutual connections. A search for "punk rock," one of my interests, only yielded three people, myself included, but one of those people is friends with someone I know -- who in turn is one of the people who recommended Ryze to me. Small, small world. I don't know how productive this service is in terms of actually helping people make business connections, but it's an intriguing concept that builds on the whole six degrees of separation notion -- and that'll help me think through the future of the Company of Friends. Party to Record Releases III Newbury Comics recently changed the terms of its E-Mail Club, which used to include a 5% discount in their stores, but they plan to continue their new release emails. In fact, with yesterday's mailing, they've changed the format slightly, and they're looking for feedback. For the most part, the new release emails aren't that useful, and I'm not sure why I haven't unsubscribed now that the discount is gone. Other than special offer and in-store appearance announcements, the emails are basically straight lists of record titles and prices -- no reviews, and not much information. I learned about the new Dillinger Four record two days after picking it up in the shop. So the trigger effect in terms of bringing people into the stores is diminished. It'd be much better to learn what was going to come out rather than what had just come out. Their Upcoming Releases page is still dated March, and ICE Magazine's new release information is consistently much more useful. Blogging About Blogging XXV Starting at 6 a.m. PST, July 27, almost 45 people (so far) will blog for 24 hours without interruption to raise money for charity as part of Blogathon 2002. The rules say that participants must update their sites every 30 minutes. The rules also offer advice on how to stay awake for 24 hours: So far, Amnesty International, Book Aid, Doctors Without Borders, and Planned Parenthood are popular charities. Most of the blog producers interested in participating -- you need to have three sponsors to be involved -- don't have any sponsors yet, so if you're interested, check it out. It's like Dance Marathon, only nobody's dancing! From the In Box: Music to My Ears VIII Looks like a pretty fair review. I agree that our current sound is still very derivative, but we're just getting started and will work on refining a unique style. -- Rich Model Kit North End Moment XX This morning, walking to work, I saw a man walking down the alley behind the Scotch & Sirloin building. Moments later, he was walking back in the other direction with several lottery cards, rubbing furiously. It looked as though he'd just gotten out of bed, thrown on some clothes, and put on a baseball cap to hide his bed head. But you know how it is -- sometimes you really need some scratch tickets at 9 a.m. Rock Shows of Note XXIV Oh. My. Goodness. I wasn't going to go to the show last night. Really, I wasn't. But after watching the first season of Mr. Show on the new DVD -- and just as the rain began to fall -- I decided it was a good idea to call a cab to JP to catch the Operators at the Milky Way. They were playing as part of CuriousBrain Imaginary Playground 2, a show blending live music and video screenings from the CuriousBrain Showcase 06. For the most part, the show was a screening of videos -- including a fun Freezepop video, a Fight Club-like hip-hop vid, and a Lovewhip music video -- but the musical acts were quite interesting. First, I caught a violin/guitar/bass trio improvising -- it seemed -- to a video collage of street scenes and ominous facial features. Then, the Operators. Their set got off to a rocky start because Steph took a last-minute bathroom break, but Paul filled in on drums for a spell, even continuing to hit the tom as he passed the sticks to Steph upon her arrival. They played a slightly rusty set of favorites, including "Angie," whose video was screened as part of the show (director Bill Lovejoy was in the audience). And they hit their stride about halfway through the set -- which was good to see; the Ops are a great band when they're not hesitant or overly self-conscious. After their set -- and walking down the block to the convenience store and back trying to call a cab -- I returned to the club to beg a ride -- and to catch part of a lackluster performance by an Ani Difranco wannabe. (Not to be overly harsh, but that's how it hit me.) Jen and Em were dears and gave me a lift home, where I unwisely called an ex before drifting off to sleep to the strains of the new Dillinger Four record. Harrumph. Shows. I should stay in sometimes. Monday, June 17, 2002
From the In Box: Music to My Ears VIII The two friends whom I was concerned about offending in that last batch of reviews wrote back almost immediately: I think much of the stuff you wrote makes sense. I actually feel like I do have a higher standard when I bring a song to the Operators. That said, I'm still proud of "Stars in Winter." I know that not everyone will like it, but that's the way it goes. As a side story, a friend called me last night to tell me how much he liked it. He later confessed that he was really stoned when he first listened to it. Hmm. Stoned or not, I hope you like it the next chance you give it. I'm of the opinion that it definitely is not a first listen album (whatever that means). However, I wouldn't want you to know who I was from the record as most of the songs aren't about me. I'd be a rather uninteresting person if you could determine what I'm about from one set of songs. Still, even if you could figure it out, you'd probably be wrong. Much is fictional, some is twisted truth, and some is plain truth. I don't always speak directly. This is often intentional. As an artist, I want people to interpret what they hear and give it their own meaning. Literal translation can be powerful, but I prefer the subjective. The risk with this approach is that someone may not find meaning at all in your work. It's a reality I'm willing to live with. That said, this set of songs (not all of them, but most) say more about me than anything else I've ever done. Unfortunately, I'm probably the only one that could give you the exact interpretation and meaning. I won't though. -- Paul Coleman Yeah. If only you owned more Figgs records, you'd see how much I'm aping them as well. I don't know. I feel like Hall & Oates opening up for the Ramones in this city. Wrong place, wrong time. I'd rather play for soccer moms out in the burbs -- those types always seem to get the most out of the music, whereas around the scene, the focus is on competence and style. Most people who actually buy records (i.e. not rockers who get theirs for free) can't tell Bruce Springsteen from Tom Petty from Elvis Costello from latter-day Figgs (assuming they ever got the chance to hear them). It's about the singer and the song and the sound somewhat. I guess it's not taking you anywhere because I make music to be heard, not thought about. You can listen to the lyrics and get the song, but if you're looking for something cultural, it ain't there. My comment on rockers getting free records isn't a dig at you being media -- it was more a comment about how people who determine the fate and marketablity of a record within the industry (journalists, radio people, record company people, booking agents) are the ones least likely to actually pay for a new record and thus make it marketable. There's nothing wrong with getting stuff for free. But I guess I was surprised (not in a bad way) by the angle. My thing in the last year has sort of been to get over the musical aspects of my music and try to just focus on the lyrics and the singing and having a good time -- and to produce it like it's a new record instead of applying a set of retro standards to it. I even used Pro Tools to make "Destroyer." I guess I'm so naturally mired in the past that I just gravitated towards that anyway. It's always interesting to hear how someone else hears your music. Like, I've never owned any Buddy Holly, and Elvis Costello bores me, but everyone mentions the latter. Anyway, I do appreciate your honesty. Too often, "local" music is the Special Olympics of rock and roll. I actually enjoyed hearing what you said, and in a way, it's satisfying that I was able to make someone think about that stuff while listening to the music I made. Or maybe we're just ripping off the Figgs and it sucks. I don't know. I quit. -- Brett Rosenberg Music to My Ears VIII A four-pack of new record reviews! (I was feeling kind of bitter the night I wrote these, and I'm afraid I even take some friends to task. Constructive criticism, I hope.) The Lot Six: "Gwylo" CD The first song strikes me as a Fugazi knockoff, with its helter-skelter sections and emotive vocals. Almost three minutes in, the yelling turns to string picking and coughing, and the Guy Piccioto-like vocals emerge as most welcome, despite the ease of the comparison. "Styler/Stylee" is a piano-free Ben Folds-esque number with enough adequate verse-chorus divisions that I wish I were seeing them live until the dimuendo, which quickly morphs into a Cracker-like song structure with the onset of "Coincidence Reprise." Fugazi comparisons are rekindled with "This Is Entertainment," perhaps the strongest song, followed by the appropriately assertive "I'm into It." This is the best Fugazi-inspired record I've ever heard, but then comes "Last Flight of the Spruce Goose," a Herb Alpert-evoking number that then shifts into a more sensitive emo song. Where is this band coming from? They're not original enough to stand on their own, but they're not consistent enough to be a total rip off. I know which way I hope they fall. Espo Records, P.O. Box 63, Allston, MA 02134. Model Kit CD EP This is a Green Day-meets-Blink 182 wannabe knockoff that pleases me but fails to innovate beyond the mersh cliches. The second track, which is better than "All That I Need" with its chunka-chunk chorus, goes much further and is the kind of song that could be important -- especially with the melodic chorus in which "nobody cares." Then, the third song. It sounds like a Hip Tanaka concept that didn't get very far. As sweet and shallow as Model Kit's sound is, I think it's dangerous to ride on other bands' coattails -- especially when they're so short. Three songs aren't a lot to go on, but it might be nine minutes too many. Model Kit. The Brett Rosenberg Problem: "Destroyer" CD It's not until the second song, "My Girlfriend's Daughter," that I really believe Brett's earnestness, and given his age and status, it's probably a good thing. Brett's overly accurate power-pop song stylings are pretty transparent, and as good as his songs are, it's hard to move beyond his source material. It's all good stuff, but it's not enough. "Kelly Haas All Over Again" is a throw away (as inspired by real life as it might be), and "Always Hanging Around" is a studied, albeit labored potential hit. This could be a song featured in Rock 'n' Roll High School, and it's almost as though Brett knows it. While "Orange Line," which even Brett has kind of dismissed, isn't even worth mentioning, "The Wait Song" returns to the Who-meets-Buddy Holly inspirations that Brett so often draws upon. Power pop at its best and most saccharine yet satisfying. The second half of the record sets off with the quality "Shame on You," complete with Jed Parish organ a la Brett's last record -- a detail worth repeating. Rounding the record off, we have an Elvis Costello-inspired song, "She's My Baby Tonight;" a rather screwy ballad, "I Don't Really Wanna Fuck Things Up;" and the bluesy ending "Obsessed." I'm surprised and slightly disappointed that this isn't more important or interesting than Brett's previous record. The hooks are here. As is the energy. But the commitment? Why stay so strongly rooted in the past? Brett Rosenberg, P.O. Box 9231, Boston, MA 02114. Sinkcharmer: "Stars in Winter" CD "As Nevada Burns" is the first song of note on this record self-released by Paul Coleman, a fellow member of the Handstand Command collective. Even though Paul's vocals are mixed way too low, the gang pulls it off in the end. "20 Paces" serves as an interesting inclusion -- why not feature more songs written by these three? Might be better than the Operators or the Tardy. Might not be. Because I'm torn about Paul. The songs he does fronting the Ops are among their best. And their best songs are better than Paul's solo songs. There are a couple of pieces out of left field here: the Fugs-like alt.country thresher "Down to Dollars" and the lo-fi southern latitude lounger a la White Town "Ode to a Grifter." But those are iffy comparisons. The brief "Goosemayer" re-establishes Paul as a solo entity, as does the wonderful live staple "Rubber Legs." "Last Dance" reminds me of several northern California pop-punk ensembles, including the Ne'er Do Wells and the Potatomen, and Paul even embellishes and improves on many Twee Kitten-like concepts. But as much as I would like to say otherwise -- and as good as a songwriter Paul is -- this record just doesn't hit me hard. The reference points feel too wide ranging, and I don't get that strong of a sense of who Paul is. Sinkcharmer. Newsletter of Note III For the last five years, the Sacramento, California-based Tackett-Barbaria Design Group has issued a summer reading list. This year, there's a pet theme to the mailing -- consistently well-designed, friendly, and clever -- as the design firm's staff introduces seven dogs and three cats, as well as almost 50 books, some of which have to do with pets, natch. Some good titles to see in such a list: Hanif Kureishi's Buddha of Suburbia and Philip K. Dick's Confessions of a Crap Artist. Better than any holiday card or hello mailing that I've ever received from a professional service I employ -- and knowing Kim, makes me think that it's personal touches like this that make her firm worth working with. This year's summer reading list isn't online yet, but you can check out recommended selections from 1997-99. Event-O-Dex! IV There are three Handstand Command-related events this week. I'll be at least two of the three. Come if you can! NetWork II Scott Heifermann's new startup MeetUp is a free service that helps people who share common interests to gather offline and face to face in almost 550 cities in more than 20 countries around the world. There's nothing listed for the Boston area so far, which makes me wonder how accurate the city count is, but one of the neatest aspects of MeetUp is that the service providers have "hand-picked 11,409 (and growing) good meetup spots -- local cafes, bars, bowling alleys, parks, donut shops, dog-friendly places, videogame displays, etc." Participants vote on where the meetup will convene. Users can call for their own meetups, characterizing them as monthly or one-time events. Even though it's rather difficult to navigate through where meetups are actually taking place, the service shows a lot of promise in terms of supporting geographically distributed real-time gatherings of like-minded people. Like the site says, "We're on a few hours old." It'll be interesting to see how MeetUp evolves. Thanks to Common Me. The Movie I Watched Last Night XXI Sunday: Tootsie It's a recipe for a laugh riot -- just like "Bosom Buddies" was. Dustin Hoffman is an underemployed character actor and in-demand acting coach (a slight contradiction, no?). He decides that if he's going to get work, he needs to dress up as a woman. So he does, gets a part on a soap opera, becomes extremely popular, and falls in love with a female co-star. Hilarity ensues. While the basic "How could you lie to me?" romantic plot line is a bit tiresome -- as is the character actor/mistaken identity plot also used in "Hero at Large" -- there are several bright spots to this 20-year-old movie -- particularly Bill Murray's understated performance as Dustin's character's roommate. It's funny; I read the Mad magazine parody of this when I was 9 and am just now getting around to seeing the movie -- it's amazing how Mad hit most of the sweet spots of the films it parodied in the '80s. You almost don't need to see the movie. That said, I'm glad I saw "Tootsie." It holds up rather well. Read But Dead VII Every day, I get an email dispatch from Slate entitled Today's Papers which tracks story trends in the country's major dailies so I don't have to read a lot of newspapers. This weekend, Scott Shuger, Today's Papers first writer, died while scuba diving. He was 50. Eric Umansky, TP's current scribe -- and others -- have big shoes to fill, but TP continues to be a necessary daily read. Shuger's groundbreaking approach to the format and service is much appreciated. Thanks to Jim Romenesko's Media News. From the Reading Pile X Ache #3 At first glance, Ache seems to be your standard indie-rock fanzine: well-designed, including the obligatory record reviews in the back and sporting interviews with Beautiful Skin, International Noise Conspiracy, and Easy Action. But at its best, Ache is a delightfully insightful zine that revels in its publisher Armen Svadjian's cultural tastes while delving deeper into some of the people who help map that cultural landscape. Armen interviews several zine publishers in this issue. Tom Frank discusses fandom vis a vis critical culture and the role of hope. Rumpshaker editor Eric Weiss explains his obsessive compulsive disorder -- but doesn't address the role his OCD might play in the production of his overwhelmingly manic Paper, Scissors, Clock-like zine. And the publisher of Motorbooty outlines the history of the long-running zine. Additionally, Ryan Biggs weighs in with a self-analysis of the use of irreverence in cultural criticism; Steve (Monorail) Mandich offers a four-page appreciation of Jack Chick tracts; and AUM Fidelity label-meister Steven Joerg shares his perspective on avant garde jazz, its relationships with the indie-rock and mainstream jazz press, and the impact of free jazz musicians who step into the mainstream, a la David S. Ware's signing to Columbia. All of this makes for a zine bigger than the zine that comprises this particular issue. Throw in some excellent comics and an interview with the wily Dave Cooper, and Ache is one hell of a read. I'll be keeping my eyes on this one. $3 to Armen Svadjian, 167 Cortleigh Blvd., Toronto, ON, Canada M5N 1P6. Bloated Sewer #2 This mish-mash of a zine combines the editor's love of graffiti, hardcore, hip hop, and politics. Heavily peppered with throw-up (as in graffiti) sketches, street art photography, odd little poems, and photos of live bands, the zine's layout is rather cluttered. And the bulk of the zine's content -- interviews with the now-defunct Enemy Soil, Beverly-based rhymer Esoteric, an area Food Not Bombs activist, Japanese noise musician Molten Salt Breeder Reactor, technical death metal band Prophetic Disclosure, and straight edgers Monster X -- alternates between brief, breathy, run-of-the-mill interview responses and in-depth, insightful conversations. The exchange with Esoteric about homophobia in the hip-hop scene is appreciated despite its admitted scratch-the-surface nature. And the Food Not Bombs piece is a solid introduction to the group's mission and methods. So, as much as I'm tempted to tag Bloated Sewer as scattered and shallow, it's clear that Dave supports the scene and goes to a lot of shows, represents the way some folks in Boston bridge hip hop and hardcore, and is politically active and aware. All good things even if this zine isn't that great. For those qualities, I've got to give him props. Check this out if you, too, are interested in these aspects of DIY culture. $3 to Dave Sullivan, 138 Faxon Road, Quincy, MA 02171. Combover's Now I Know My ABC's I went to the release party for Dave Bryson, Ed Curran, and Joe Keinberger's educomic, but I was tired, it was crowded, and I jetted before I could meet the three who produced this take on the ABC's. So I'll continue to appreciate their comics work from afar. The idea is simple: illustrate the alphabet. The result is a 26-panel love poem to a whole host of popcult fetishes and cliches: dorks, garden gnomes, Morrissey, Oompa-Loompas, yeti, and Dr. Zachary Smith. Joel Keinberger's contributions are ink-splattered and scribbly sketches that increasingly remind me of Ralph Steadman. Dave Bryson evokes the work of Bruce Orr, and Ed Curran's cartoony style occasionally draws on computer illustration and lettering. The blend of styles is effective, and the Combover crowd has found themselves some good comics company. A good one-off gimmick book, but also a good introduction to the folks behind Combover. Combover, 351 Harvard St. #2F, Cambridge, MA 02138. Go Metric! #14 Mike Faloon amazes me. The one-man army behind GM and Dizzy Records has his fingers in so many pies and on so many pulses that I am consistently astounded. And his unabashed giddy enthusiasm for his shameless popcult fixations is a sheer joy to behold even if I don't always share them. If you're into power pop at all, you'll love GM. David Cawley reports on the 2001 Asian Fantasy Film Expo, where Damon Foster, editor of Oriental Cinema, kicked him. Fastbacks' guitarist Kurt Bloch expounds on his love for the music of Queen. Skizz Cyzyk details the making of a Young Fresh Fellows video. The Young Fresh Fellows/Minus 5 CD is dissected track by track. Madeleine Dental, mastermind behind the zine Tight Pants, is converted by the Figgs, whom I've yet been able to truly appreciate. Faloon interviews the Dorks; the proprietor of Break-Up! Records; Scott (Los Huevos) Soriano, owner of Moo-La-La Records; the Decibles; and Big Dipper. There's also a guide to things you need to have with you at all times, a report on the talk radio coverage of 911, a synchronized listening and viewing of the Squirrels' "Not-So-Bright Side of the Moon" and "Cabin Boy," a report on Mint Records' 10th anniversary festival, and a smattering of record reviews. Again, I need to admit that I don't share all of Mike's tastes. I also didn't read every single word of every single article in this issue's 60 pages. But I am in awe -- awe! -- of GM's ability to ferret out these interviews and discographies for the power pop completists, as well as GM's self-deprecating sense of humor and efforts to address adjacent media interests. Indeed: Go Go Metric! You won't be sorry. Mike Faloon, 2780 Ryewood Ave. #F, Copley, OH 44321. King Cat Comics and Stories #60 Despite his ups and downs, John Porcellino keeps on plugging away on his long-running comic, and the zine world is hella better for it. In this edition, John tweaks the recent rash of wordless comic experiments with "Mental Illness/Friday Night," a poetic, eight-panel but pictureless comic. The 11-page "Ticks III" is a tender look at nature appreciation, man's impact on the environment, and one way the world can gently remind us that we're part of something larger. The all-text "Healy Road Prairie" and "Morris" continues to carry that theme as John describes the process of transplanting a patch of native grassland and unsuccessfully seeks the largest tree in Illinois. While John gives us a lot of himself in his comics and writing, features like the K Cat Top 40 offer even more insight into John's idiosyncrasies, impressions, and irritations. Whether everyday objects, books, records, or daily experiences, the Top 40 serves as a sort of journal parallel to the current issue -- as well as a solid sample of John's own media diet. It also highlights the fact that much of the world's beauty resides in the minutiae and details that we often ignore and take for granted. King Cat is flush with love -- for the everyday and for the world. Rush out and puck up a copy. (Tangent: Does anyone know what Joe "Silly Daddy" Chiapetta is up to these days?) $2 to John Porcellino, P.O. Box 881, Elgin, IL 60121. Nature's Milkshake (February 2002) Drawn between Jan. 21 and Feb. 5, this mini features roughly stylized comic strips, sketchbook excerpts, photocopier art, and found photography. The opening story, "Dos Computing," sets the stage with a throw-away narrative in which a frustrated computer user eats a giant hotdog, frees a tiger from the zoo, and realizes the folly of his actions. Silly, surreal, and somewhat sloppy, the comics cover self-injury, hurting friends, escaping from the frying pan into the fire, bad haircuts, and the minutiae of everyday existence. There's a bitter existential edge to the stories -- nothing ends well -- but Nature's Milkshake doesn't take the frustrations it depicts too seriously, opting instead for fart jokes, vomit, softcore porn, and nods to the Far Side and Garfield. Despite the art's simplicity, there's some wonderfully impressive panels here: the puking dog on p. 14, the judgmental girls on p. 29, and the flying man on p. 32. $3 to Ethan Hayes-Chute, 2 College St. #717, Providence, RI 02903. Snake Pit anthology and #15 First, the slim, 16-page, monthly edition. Drawn in December 2001, these daily comic strips detail the life of Ben, a record store clerk in Austin, Texas. Ben goes to work, smokes pot, collates his zine, practices with his band, goes to shows, watches movies, sleeps, runs errands, hooks up with various cute punk-rock girls, and hugs his mom. It sounds mundane, but Ben's simple, well-drawn comics evoke Aaron Cometbus and John Porcellino -- and feature a daily soundtrack -- adding up to a fun and friendly personal comic. The anthology is more of the same, collecting 96 pages of Ben's strips between July 2000 and 2001. Reading more in a sitting, it's easy to gain insight on Ben's life -- and like Ben more, to boot -- as he crushes out constantly, gets fired, moves to Austin, and falls into his punk-rock rhythm of girls, shows, work, pot, parties, and bus trips. His drawing style visibly improves as the comics progress, but his routine -- matter of fact, unapologetic, and slightly enviable from where I sit on the Big Blue Couch -- does not. Awesome. Best perzine/comic I've read in quite awhile! $2 or a stamp to Ben, 2100 Guadalupe #138, Austin, TX 78705. Thred I just can't take it! Even Bruce Orr's blocky lettering reminds me of Michigan-to-Oregon transplant Robert Lewis, whom I miss dreadfully. Sure, Bruce's art is more heavily inked, but I wish I could shrug off the comparisons. Five years in the making, the 68-page Thred was produced mostly in Berlin, and I'm sure some of the book's abstract existentialism stems from Bruce's time in Germany. In stark contrast to the photocopied and folded "Lady Dwenton's Matrimonial Planner" (previously reviewed in Media Diet), this book-length story is a robust tale about an aging toymaker whose livelihood and locale are threatened by the new Minister of Division of Mergecom (shades of the Spuckler storyline in Akiko). After a run-in with a metalsapien guard, the toymaker is taken in by the neopicts, who give him a new lease on life and the tools he can use to save Market Island. Equal parts dark science fiction, swashbuckling superhero story, and Camus-like cautionary tale, Thred is a heady but not heavy-handed exhortation to question authority. As much as I enjoyed the book, however, I do wish Bruce's artwork wasn't so heavily inked -- despite the innovate character designs and page layouts. A solid self-published book. Ask Bruce what it was like working with the Small Publishers Co-Op! $4 to Bruce Orr, 1601 S. 8th St., third floor, Philadelphia, PA 19148. Too Much Coffee Man #12-13 I admit it. I was hella skeptical when Shannon Wheeler, creator of the one-trick comics pony Too Much Coffee Man, launched this new magazine. I thought it'd merely be a platform for his comics, of which I'm not overly fond. I also thought it'd be a shallow, speedy read. I was wrong on both counts. While Wheeler does contribute a healthy dose of comics -- 22 pages total, or less than 20% of both issues published in late 2001 -- and while the magazine is better suited for flipping than avid reading, there's a lot going on here. One, Shannon's coffee fetish is in full effect: TMCM features coffee reviews, coffee maker reviews, and an interview with the proprietor of Pinko's, a "commie coffee copy center" in Portland. Two, Shannon uses TMCM to highlight the work of many independent comics creators, including Bobo, Jay Stephens, Rick Geary, Graham Annable, Keith Knight, and Peter Kuper. Three, TMCM includes some Beer Frame-like reviews of and articles about enema kits, bottled water, wars, multitools, and toast. Four, there are some delightfully surprising outliers in the mix: Dennis Eichorn's article on Christian pornography, for example. Shannon's personality percolates throughout each issue's 68 pages, lending an extremely energetic perzine aspect to the endeavor. It's clear that Shannon wanted to do a magazine. So he is. Why aren't you? $4.95 to Adhesive Press, P.O. Box 14549, Portland, OR 97293. Words! Words! Words! #1 Published in Wellington, New Zealand, the 60-page WWW -- shorthand, don't you know -- is a "fashion magazine for reading." Instead of falling into the celebrity circle jerk of mainstream mags such as Book, WWW opts for a more grassroots and community-oriented approach. Joanna Vaught and Maura Johnston hold up their top five all-time desert island books. Derek Powazek outlines how to write a book in three easy steps. John Hodgman reviews the inner workings of a professional literary agent's mind. And James Stegall contributes his interesting and innovative "I Don't Care If I Ever Get Paid to Write," a meandering discourse on why people write disguised as a shoplifter apprehension police report. WWW steps to the side of journals such as McSweeney's, the American Journal of Print, and the Ganzfeld to take a look at the holes between zinemaking and the professional publishing world -- and people's reasons for stepping into them. This everyman's review of books and the writing life is creative even if it isn't crucial. $8 to Words! Words! Words! |
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