dead rock stars/condoleeza's rice

Well folks, utterly EPIC weekend. And I don’t throw that word around lightly. One for the ages, one reminiscent of the Bangkok days. Let’s get right into it.

Started off Thursday, actually. Me and Cowboy Rob Pinckney took our guitars up to local ex-pat watering hole TK6 for a short-notice set. The place was packed, people weren’t listening too much, but we steamrolled through some of my originals, some of his Johnny, Willie, and CCR covers, we did Brown Eyed Girl, and ended up with a half-assed version of Hotel California. I actually suggested we play Tequila Sunrise, but he was well into the intro before I got around to telling him it was the wrong song, and by then it was too late.

So I told myself that after the set, I’d have two beers, and then head home, as Saturday was the monthly Dead Rock Stars event (http://www.myspace.com/deadrockstarssapporo), an evening of five local bands organized by the gentleman spies. Jon and Andy of the spies asked me to do a couple solo acoustic sets between bands. It’s kind of a big thing in town, so I didn’t want to get too messed up Thursday night and lose my voice.

Movie cut: me banging along on the bartop at 3:30 AM as American Andrew blasts his iPod through the TK6 sound system rocking everything from Ray Charles to Zep to GN’f-in’R. Awesome night. Salsa dancing with this American girl who claimed to be a lesbian but I have my doubts. I ran screaming before I did anything remotely unfaithful to my special lady friend. Just throwing that out there. I am many things, but adulterous is not one of them.

At any rate. Slept in Friday, regrouped, hydrated, had an early one, home before 2:00.

A couple of the boys from my former place of employment, Hokkaido Outdoor Adventures (aka HOA) (http://www.rafting-hoa.co.jp/) were coming into town for the Dead Rock Stars and for the international party at a club called Mole later on. We started off with a few afternoon lukewarm ones at the beer garden in the park in the middle of town (more on that later, as well) before heading over to club 810 for the music.

First band was ok, my first set was ok. Video footage pending, perhaps.

The next act was an all girl band. Right away you could tell they were something special. HOA boy Jesse fell instantly in love with the drummer, HOA boy Jarad chose the guitar player. The singer was a chubby little thing in quasi Gothic Lolita attire, couldn’t have been more than four foot ten, but man did she hold the stage. Then on the last song, the guitar player, a hot little thing with perfectly straight, soft, smooth black hair flying everywhere, was rolling around on the floor Hendrix style, wailing, soloing, and doing a damn good job of it musically. I turned to Montana Jon, who was smoking a cigarette watching with a smile on his face waiting patiently to take the stage next, and said to him, “You have many things in your band, but what you do not have is hot Japanese girls rolling around on the floor playing lead guitar.”

The spies were good. Jon and Andy are both up around 6’5”, and their music is as towering as their stature. They went through a slick set of what Jarad referred to as “dirty rock”, closing with the ever-rousing “Conoleeza’s Rice”. Jon’s vocals are a little muffled on their myspace page, but check out the lyrics on all four songs (http://www.myspace.com/thegentlemanspies). There’s some good writin’ in there.

For my second set, spies drummer Makoto pulled up a tom-tom and played along with me. As the next band set up and I was tuning up behind the screen, I ran through the chords and changes and rhythms of the three songs I would play. Makoto and I had only met once before, and had never jammed. But man did he rock it. He was right there with me, picking up steam as we went. I was a little drunker, the crowd was a little drunker, when I got to the second half of my politically-charged “Miss America”, the sweat was pouring off of me and I was in the zone. People responded. Closed with “She’s So Lovely”, a song that is becoming so popular that it is asked for by name almost every time I pick up a guitar. My special lady friend, who put the “lovely” in “She’s So Lovely”, was almost as much in the spotlight as me. Great fun, great set.

The next band up was fronted by a heavyset Japanese dude with sweaty, straggly hair and big fuck-off pork chop sideburns. They were good, but, in retrospect, they were just a prelude to the final act.

I don’t know if I could quite describe these guys without accompanying video footage. When they opened, their lead singer, a five foot two, 110 pound Japanese guy in skintight red pants and a skintight red top with a butterfly collar, came out on stage and stood there smoking a cigarette, just staring at everybody. It was exciting. Cool, funny. Girl drummer, guys on bass and guitar.

Maybe we should skip to the last song. Red dude in the corner behind the amps screaming unintelligibly into the mic. Drummer holding steady. Bass player CROWD SURFING on the shoulders of two of the probably less than 50 people in the place. Guitar player has his axe laid across the metal bars in front of the stage, strings down, feedback screaming, and, in a very realistic fashion, making humping motions using the instrument as an extended phallus.

The place was electrified. All the way through, musically, they were absolutely tight, but loose and creative and jamming all at the same time. They did all originals, I think, but their sound ranged from power punk to modern rock to 60’s pop and everything in between. People in the crowd were screaming, jumping up and down, hugging each other. Cowboy Rob was just as into it as the little goth chick in the corner. The bass player was in a white suit with a floral button-down shirt. He would occasionally come to the front of the stage, stare directly into the lights with a murderously serious expression on his face, hold the beat with one hand, and open the jacket to reveal a mismatched floral pattern on the inside lining. He did it three or four times, and every time he did it, the place, inexplicably, erupted. The singer at one point went flat as a board and fell straight back, knocking over the guitar player and banging both of their heads into the PA. I swear people were comparing them to The Doors.

So they finally all threw down their instruments, and the three guys did this little quasi a capella thing at the end while the drummer kept a beat, and then they threw the microphones down and let feedback ring for a full minute or two before the sound guys cut the power.

Host Jon, ever gracious and humble, hopped up on stage, picked the mic off the floor, and delivered the only line that could have come after such a performance.

“People wonder why we don’t headline our own shows.”

You know, I was going to continue on with a recount of the events of the rave party we went to afterwards, and then of drinking at Rad Brother’s, Sapporo’s resident dirty foreigner bar, until 7:00 AM, and then getting up at 11:00 and going directly to the beer gardens for another 10 hour drinking session, but most of you have probably if not participated in such debauchery, heard stories about it. You didn’t even have to live in Bangkok.

I was also going to make some point about music being one of the two international languages that everyone can understand, but it’s Tuesday morning 9:30 AM, and I’m still sort of too hungover to think properly. But there is a point in there. I could understand very little of what little red dude in that closing band was saying, but it was just as powerful and moving as any set I’ve ever seen. Conversely, quite a few Japanese people were dancing along to my upbeat acoustic numbers and to the gentleman spies’ set, and both my music and theirs is very lyric-oriented and therefore would be almost unintelligible to even the sharpest of Japanese English speakers.

But, like I said, I’m just too hungover. I guess that’s what being 32 is all about. Two-day hangovers.

The other most effective international language, in my personal experience, and since you asked, is sports. Maybe more on that next time.

Speaking of next time, while I appreciate Michele's thoughts on the re-hijack, like I said, I'm in no condition to address them at the moment. But the dialogue is open, let's keep it up.

Rock out with the cock out, people! You might get hit by a bus today.

mess o' potamia, more

hello, friends,

i am hijacking back tonight because i've spent the last two hours watching the senate debate on the iraq war and needed to chime in on a couple of brother rob's questions and thoughts.

okay, how many of you knew that the senate was pulling an all nighter? as steven colbert pointed out, they are preempting things like the infomercial for the "magic bullet," a "very special episode of BLOSSOM" and coverage of the NHL rookie training camp.

what a great time to debate this war, between the hours of 11PM and 4AM. usually, i am listening to coast to coast AM with george noorie.

i guess, to answer rob's question about the difference between democrats and republicans is that there is none. i am squarely behind barack obama, but i also am frustrated by the fact that NO ONE is asserting themselves fully to say "stop the nonsense."

i'm currently listening to washington state senator maria cantwell, who is asking for a pull-out. she is asking for a public presentation of what a senator's opinion might be, and i agree whole-heartedly. stand up and reflect the opinion of what the people elected you to express. are we really being spun that much that there is actually a question. everyone i know wants out -- am i really in the minority?

what is the fear of just calling a vote and putting the question to the mat?

there is such a sense of apprehension, an overwhelming sense of fear here, rob, that no one is able to a) articulate their opinion b)hold fast to that opinion and c)accept being wrong or pissing people off that we are a complacent, cowering and inarticulate people.

what was once the great "american experiment" has turned into yet another example of the tyranny of power. we are no better than any other of the failed political experiments.

whew.

i dare you all to keep watching this debate and challenging your elected officials to reflect your opinion.

gotohellifyouhatefreedom,
volansky

cherry poppin' anonymous

As the sort of non-response from anonymous was the first comment I've received since I took over the blog, I feel obligated acknowledge it.

First off, thanks. Much appreciated. Glad to know people are out there.

That said, I realize that "responding to jackass Volansky blog" falls well below items like "go to work," "feed the cat," and "fight for truth and justice" on most people's daily To Do list, so I don't get hurt or upset if no comments come through. Also, I understand that it was a long hiatus between Michele's last post and my first one, so I'm sure many people moved on to younger, more vibrant, attractive blogs. Perhaps this blog needs to buy one of these:

There is no substitute.

At any rate. A handful of emails have come through, so I know people are reading. If you have time, post a comment, if not, whatever. I'll get over it.

In other news, some buddies and I got together Friday night to do a bit of live music at a local bar, a place called Brian Brew. It was very casual, but if it did have a name, it would have been something like "White Men With Acoustic Guitars". Montana Jon and English Andy of The Gentleman Spies (http://www.myspace.com/thegentlemanspies) played a fun blend of covers and originals, including a strong version of the L. Cohen song "Hallelujah", a song that was made immortal by J. Buckley. After the Spies were done, Cowboy Rob Pinckney, farrier-cum-entertainer, hit us with some CCR, some Johnny, and some Willie. I closed with a set of mostly originals, but originals that have become familiar enough to the locals that there is some singing along. I also did my well-worn acoustic version of "Sweet Child O'Mine" that probably would have Axl & Slash rolling in their graves if they were dead. So that was that. Fun night out.

As Monday is a national holiday, I will momentarily be heading out the door to go camping with my special lady friend. Just the two of us, some trees, a fire, and an obnoxious amount of alcohol. Jealous?

Enjoy the weekend, folks!

gimme da fuckin' keys, cocksucker

I like music. Listening to it, reading about it, talking about it. I play a bit of guitar and sing and write some songs, and enjoy it.

I check Rolling Stone’s website almost every day. It’s my pipeline to American music, American culture. (I’ve been living outside of America off and on for several years.) I read the feature stories, read the reviews. So the other day I clicked on a video clip where two members of the RS staff reviewed a couple albums. One was the new Velvet Revolver and I forget what the other one was. Anyway. They were sitting in like a conference room discussing Weiland’s vocals and Slash’s guitar, playing snippets from a cd player behind them and talking about the music.

They had some good things to say about it and some bad things. But what struck me most was that the two of them had this underlying tone of smugness throughout the whole thing. It’s like they were reviewing the record, but at the same time they were kind of acting like they were too cool to be reviewing the record. Like somewhere just below the surface, they were making fun of the whole thing. Does that make sense?

So, like Chazz Palmentieri at the end of The Usual Suspects, I began to put together clues from Rolling Stone articles I’ve read over the years, and from other blogs I’ve stumbled upon, and from other interviews with people in the artistic and entertainment industry. What I’ve realized is that that smugness was not an isolated incident.

I’ve spent a lot of years teaching junior high school students. One clear behavioral pattern that children in that age group all over the world share is the desire for privacy. Their bodies are changing and they are shy about showing them, their minds are changing and they are hesitant to offer opinions. Junior high school kids love to pass little folded-up notes in class and keep secrets from their friends.

In the process of teaching, I’ll often play communicative activities in which I ask the kids various questions. One activity focused largely on pop culture, sports, and entertainment. Who’s your favorite baseball player? Who’s your favorite singer? Perhaps because of the privacy thing, when I ask kids who their favorite singer or movie star or pop star is, they’ll often hmm and haw, will be shy about saying a name. It’s not that they don’t have a favorite, they just don’t want to look stupid by saying someone not cool or unattractive.

Of course young adults in America talk about music and movies and singers and bands and all that. They offer opinions and say what they like and don’t like.

But I see that smugness everywhere, that too-cool-for-school attitude. (I have heard of this thing called a "hipster", but I'm not quite clear on what it is. However, I do feel like this hipster thing is related to this smugness somehow.) I don’t see it as cool at all, though. I see it as kind of insecurity about looking stupid for saying they like a certain band or singer. The smugness deflects being identified with that group or style of music, waters down the true opinion, like a defense mechanism.

A few points on this. First off, this is a strictly American and British phenomenon. I interact with people from all over the world. Most of my close friends at the moment are Australian, Kiwi, and Canadian, and no matter how many times I meet one of them, I am struck by how genuine they are, especially when it comes to basic likes and dislikes. Many Americans and Britishers, on the other hand, when you ask them their thoughts on a bar or club, sports team, or cultural icon, will give you an answer, but a snide remark will linger just there, just in case.

Now, to be perfectly honest, I don’t care much about this in itself. If people want to make fun of bands, go for it. But I don’t see it as a strictly cultural thing. I see it as a symptom of a larger unwillingness to identify with anyone or anything that might be unacceptable to someone else. I see it as a symptom of an inability or unwillingness to take personal responsibility for beliefs. What I worry about is that if people are afraid to take a stand on a musician that they like, what hope do they have of holding fast on issues that matter?

Questions: is it easier to identify yourself with something trivial like a favorite band, or something serious like a political ideal? It’s hip to bash Bush these days, hip to stop global warming. Those are safe. But what about unsafe, divisive issues? What about the war in Iraq, for example? I am utterly opposed to violence, I don’t even kill mosquitoes, but I have yet to hear a convincing plan for the withdrawal of troops from the area that will not result in millions of Iraqis slaughtering one another. What do you think about this and other serious matters? I would imagine that the smugness disappears when more pressing issues come up, but do you think people really believe what they say, or is the smugness replaced by another similar defense mechanism that absolves them from really having to go to bat for something they believe? Do you stand firm in your own opinions, or do you waver depending on the situation or the people with whom you’re talking? Have your basic principles or ideals changed as you’ve gotten older? Is it easy or hard for you to express your opinions? Do you temper your opinions with some sort of defense mechanism?

I’m not pointing fingers here. I wonder if I do the same thing in barroom conversations and in other more formal arenas. My opinions shift as much as anybody’s. But this raises another question. We give shit to politicians who waver, but we also give shit to politicians who hold their ground in the face of heavy opposition or overwhelming disagreement. Why is that? Which do you think is less appealing?

Will close for now. Nobody seems to have taken up the question about Democrats and Republicans, but that’s fine. If I get answers, I’ll be glad to address them. If not, I’ve got plenty more where this came from, so I’ll just continue to bash away.

Take care, peeps. Have a good one.

opening remarks

Michele tells me that I'm not allowed to actively advocate the overthrow of the American government on her blog. Fair enough. So let me go on record and say that I am not advocating the overthrow of the American government.

In fact, I'm not really political at all. Or at least I don't pay much attention to American politics. However, I have noticed that this blog contains a fair bit of political content, so I feel obliged to honor that as the surrogate poster. And what I'd like to do is open up the floor for comments, suggestions, or, most importantly, instruction in the workings of the current American system. Down to basics. I would like this blog to be more interactive, like those exhibits at the Franklin Institute, or a petting zoo. An evil petting zoo.

I thought it might be good to provide a few questions, easy questions, and then people can provide answers, and then we can go from there.

First off, what is the difference between a Democrat and a Republican? I have a pretty good idea of what they've represented historically, but what about now?

Please think about and respond to that.

Finally, I'll likely not keep this thing strictly political. It just occurred to me about a week ago to start doing this, so I haven't completely thought out what I would like to say in the sacred intellectual common ground of the internet, but I'd imagine I'll post on a wide variety of topics. Feel free to give suggestions.

Thanks! Have a great day!

hijack

Hello, my name is Rob Volansky. I am Michele's younger brother. I will be taking over the blog indefinitely. Please read and enjoy. Have a nice day!