With the exception of some Bo Diddley, Cab Calloway, one Chubby Checker song and lectures on the intellectual history of Judaism, all I've been listening to recently is Paul Simon. Once I've rummaged through every crack and crevice in his near 50-year long career, I will emerge, with some songs and words of praise, for all of you!
Thursday, August 04, 2005
A couple of years ago in Vancouver I went to see the Rye Coalition at the Picadilly Pub and managed to insert myself into an interview with them that my friend Zsofia was doing for Discorder, as she didn't really know the band, and I'd had some long standing love of the group, being introduced to a couple of their 7"s by my friend Rick. Anyways, singer Ralph Cuseglio and bassist Justin Morey and I chatted for a long time about Led Zeppelin, their testy relationship with Gern Blandsten label honcho (and former throaty Rorschach vocalist - they covered King Crimson!) Charles Maggio, recording with Steve Albini, and other shit. Jersey. Anyway, owing to some probably some fatwah against me in the editorial offices of that paper (the result of a mean-spirited dig at Chris Eng, I think), my completely wicked and involved questions didn't end up in the pages of CITR's rag.
I hear the sweet sounds
Sweet sounds of Nevada
One of the things I learned was that the sound at the beginning of this song was that of a quarter being flicked and spun on a table. Ya know, quarters, slot machines, the "sweet sounds of Nevada."
They were never that comfortably situated in the post-hardcore mileu that they found themselves in at their inception in the 90s, but their splits with The VSS and Karp, singles, and early albums are high-marks in what was, looking back on it, one fucking bleak time for American music.
On schedule with their plot for getting the band "fucking big" on their own terms, they've finished recording with Dave Grohl, which is, Jesus, not my cup of tea, really. But fuck, as long as he's not writing the songs. Also, Jared Leto is no longer in the band.