Flaming Pablum

"With A Rebel Noël...."

I can't believe I missed this when it came out last year, but surely this....

...is a clear sign of the impending apocalypse, no?

"Streets of Calcutta" by Ananda Shankar

TITLE: "Streets of Calcutta"
ARTIST: Ananda Shankar
ALBUM: The Rough Guide To The Asian Underground
RELEASE DATE: 2003

Generally speaking, I'm not a "World Music" devotee. I don't know my bhangra from my baile-funk, and usually couldn't care less. With some very select exceptions, I tend to listen solely to music made by white, English speaking folks -- usually angry ones. I'm not proud of that, necessarily, but I simply don't get as excited about Afro-Cuban rhythms or traditional indigenous folk music in the same way I get a charge out of, say, heavy metal, Punk Rock or simply good ol' pop music. I'm getting better at broadening my horizons, but I'm still largely pretty provincial in that respect.

About fifteen years ago, I had the distinct honor of interviewing one of my then (and still) favorite-ever bands, Cop Shoot Cop. I met up with them in the long-since-dormant Pizza Canteen adjacent to CBGB (now also dormant). I sat down with lead singer/strategist, Tod [A] and sampler "Cripple Jim" Coleman to talk about their then new album titled -- somewhat ironically -- White Noise. At a certain point in the conversation, I was quizzing them about the band's influences and reference points, and asked them what bands they were currently listening to. Without hesitation, Tod said, "The Klezmatics." I thought he was joking. The Klezmatics - their name a wry spin on the uber-shlock ersatz-punk phenom, the Plasmatics, also a big fave of mine, I'm somewhat sorry to say - played a contemporary take on Klezmer, i.e. traditional Jewish wedding music. Sensing that I didn't believe him, Tod expounded, saying that he appreciated the passion with which the band played this style of music, suggesting that it was no more ridiculous to be playing Klezmer music at this stage in history than it was to be playing the sort've grimacey rock Cop Shoot Cop was playing.

A few years later, of course, Tod quit Cop Shoot Cop to form Firewater, a much more light-hearted ensemble that abandoned CSC's frowny brand of quasi-industrial skronk-rock in favor of a dizzying mix of musical styles, Klezmer foremost among them. Shortly after that, Tod and I became friends, and he began a tireless campaign to expand my musical parameters. Thanks to the magic of the internet, we'd shoot each other MP3s of new music that we were currently grooving to. By around `03 and `04, Tod had started to explore his deep love of Bollywood music, i.e. the somewhat frantic music culled from Indian cinema. For every conventional piece of current rock that I'd send him (usually met with instant messages saying "this is awful" and/or "you actually like this crap?"), Tod would send me truly odd bits of bizarre Indian music.

I'm not going to lie and say he completely converted me, but I did develop a bit of a taste for some of it, even going so far as to spring for some cheap-o Bollywood compilation discs every now and again. Some of it was truly great stuff, merging disparate elements of Eastern and Western music into disarming collisions of style. This particular song is one such example. It's not a Bollywood track, rather it's a song by the renowned Indian musician, Ananda Shankar, who was evidently well known for his deft fusing of styles. I stumbled upon via a random cache of Mp3s and then luckily found it on a compilation. I don't really know much about it beyond that, other than I think it completely rocks. Listen for yourself.

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Six Years Later

It's six years to the day (and a Tuesday, no less) since the events of September 11th, 2001. Honestly, I really have nothing major to add to the sentiments I've expressed in the past two years.  This particular anniversary seems a bit muted in comparison to the ones that preceded it. Perhaps people are truly moving on? Forgetting? The news of the day  -- especially General Petraeus' assessment of the "progress" in Iraq -- seems to be holding the lion's share of the headlines.

At the end of this day, the man behind the plot is still at large (and laughing from a distance), the hole his emissaries left in the ground where the Twin Towers once stood is still empty and the same repulsively idiotic president is still occupying the White House. The people of this nation, the people of the world and all the people who lost their lives (including my friend from high school) deserve much better than this, much less an explanation as to what's been done in their name.

Oy Vegas!

As much as I sincerely regret no longer working at MTV News, I can't say I'm especially devastated to not be working the 2007 Video Music Awards in Las Vegas tonight. As recently pointed out by the Times, the organization as a whole has a lot riding on this, and I know my former colleagues over there are under some hardcore stress to pull it off. Honestly, I'm not sure if I'm actually going to watch. I'm curious to see Britney Spears' return to the spotlight (or will it be a horrifcally delicious flame-out?) and I'm always game to see the Foo Fighters (rumor has it they may bring Lemmy out onstage with them), but if I missed either, I'm relatively certain that I could continue living a happy, fulfilled life.

Unlike previous shows, they're claiming that this will be broadcast only once. I find that somewhat hard to believe, but whatever. I wish my former teammates smooth sailing and huge amounts of luck, and I hope no one has a cerebral hemorrhage during the proceedings.

Also, I'm only going to watch the first hour, as at 9 pm, a new season of The Inspector Lynley Mysteries starts over on PBS, and honestly, I'll take that over 50 Cent, Kanye West, the Pussycat Dolls and Paris Hilton every damn time.

The City From Another Time

As has been somewhat laboriously established here on Flaming Pablum, I have an almost fetishistic love for New York City, and Manhattan in particular. I love poring over books of photography on the subject, thrilled by the work of everyone from Wee Gee and Berenice Abbott through more contemporary photographers like Allen Tannenbaum and David Bradford. In many of my favorite films -- "Taxi Driver," "The Warriors," "After Hours," "The French Connection" -- New York plays a vital role, and I love seeing images of the city in its bygone incarnations. I've been known to sit through otherwise indefensible films -- everything from "Barefoot In the Park" through "What About Me?" -- only to catch fleeting glimpses of Manhattan scenes from eras past.

A while back, I met man by the name of Ned Otter down in Soho, who was selling his father's photography on the street. Unlike those mass produced, yawnsome pictures of Times Square you can find virtually everywhere, Otter's photos captured striking, poignant images of Manhattan -- and specifically Greenwich Village -- in the 50's and early 60'. It's truly captivating stuff, and you can check it out for yourself by clicking onto the Robert Otter website right here.

As a sort've companion page to Otter's, I recently found this site by a photographer named Tetsuo Kogawa. Kogawa managed to capture New York City in the 70's and 80's (the photograph of Times Square above is one of his -- note the billboards for Barry Manilow, "Oh Calcutta" and Dino DeLaurentis' adaptation of "King Kong"). There are loads of books out right now that strive to document the colorful scenes from those respective eras, but I find Kogawa's photos compelling as they capture the look of the very streets themselves. The pictures may not be as artsily composed as Otter's, but as a rare window onto what the city looked like back then, they're invaluable. It's odd how some neighborhoods look completely unchanged, whereas others are now virtually unrecognizable. If you're as fascinated by this stuff as much as I am, do please check it out.

B'Bye BBQ

I'm not entirely sure this belongs in the Vanishing Downtown section -- as, truthfully, I hated the place -- but the age-old BBQ restaurant on the corner of East 8th Street and University Place closed quite unexpectedly this week. Its affiliates are still around (there's one on St. Mark's Place & 2nd Avenue and a couple uptown), so I don't think it's indicative of the demise of the whole chain, but this one seems gone for good.

I don't know when it first opened, but it must've been in the early 80's at least, as it's been on that corner since I first started coming downtown. I once literally ran into Run-DMC on their way out of the restaurant, narrowing avoiding stepping directly on their blinding white Adidas. My wife loved BBQ and often ordered from there, but I never thought their fare was all that special. In fact, I thought it was pretty cruddy. Mass produced on the cheap with precious little attention to any semblance of culinary finesse. But, y'know, what the hell do I know about barbecue cookin'. Actually, on a similar tip, Tennessee Mountain over on Spring Street -- another long standing downtown barbecue joint - just shut its doors for good too. Is there some new fatwa against greasy, artery-cloggin' chicken going on that I wasn't informed about?

In any case, another neighborhood staple bites the dust. I can't say I'm sorry to see it go, but I shudder to think about what might take its place. I hope to God it's not another bank or another Duane Reade. Say what I will about BBQ, at least the place had a bit of character.

Epiphany In The Supermarket

As I shuffled listlessly through the paper products aisle of my local D'agostino's yesterday afternoon, searching for a box of baking soda and lamenting the course of events an uncaring and seemingly malevolent deity had seen fit to impede my trajectory with, I was stopped dead in my lumpen tracks by an enlightened roll of paper towels, broadcasting its hopeful message in a florid font and garish colors.

Tudor City Blue

I had another interview today, this time with a disarmingly prestigious media consultancy group in the Chrysler building. So, I dusted off my interview trousers (which I haven't had to bust out in a disconcerting while), slipped on a fetching purple tie and caught the 6 train uptown. But because I'm such a punctual neurotic, I got to Grand Central about forty-five minutes ahead of schedule. This is something that happens to me constantly. Regardless of the function, I tend to arrive at my destinations way before it's necessary. I used to arrive at parties, only to be greeted by the sound of hair dryers behind the front door. What usually happens is that I end up walking around the block a bunch of times. Still, it beats being late.

So, standing in the middle of Lexington Avenue and 42nd street in my best corporate suck-up duds with nothing to read by copies of my own resume, I decided that I might as well give the neighborhood a good stroll. It being an absolutely spectacular day, this option didn't seem all that bad (although I was starting to sweat beneath my collar, which is never good). I walked East, towards the shimmering river and the monolithic outline of the U.N., finding myself smack dab in Tudor City.

I really don't know much about the background of Tudor City, I'm sorry to say, although I quite like its arcane architectural motif and its neighborhoody vibe. Back in grade school, I had a friend named Richard who lived in one of these buildings. I walked by it this morning, and was instantly transported to the dim, water-colory mid-70s when he and I would play in the building's adjacent courtyard. Rich and I ended up going to the same high school as well. He was one of the first kids I know to get into Punk rock. He transferred high schools halfway through and later dropped out, I believe. The last time I saw him, he was clad head to toe in tye-dye, sporting a billy goat beard and singing the theme song to "The Jetsons" in Central Park. I wonder where he is today.

I returned to Tudor City sometime in the mid-90's. I was attending a party (which I invariably arrived way early to) and was probably struck with the same memories of my old friend Rich. Today, the neighborhood looks virtually untouched from those days in the 70's, although I think the park areas are a little nicer. Maybe that's because I immediately project a thick patina of atmospheric grime on all my memories of NYC in the 1970s. Too many viewings of "Marathon Man," "The Taking of Pelham 123" and "The French Connection," probably.

Throughout my walk, I couldn't help but get Blondie's "Union City Blue" stuck in my head, swapping out the "Union" for "Tudor." When I finally walked back to the Chrysler building (which is indeed magnificent, by the way), I still had it playing in my head. I neglected to hum it during my interview, probably for the wiser.

This afternoon, I was surprised to find that an official video for the song actually exists (and who knew Debbie played guitar?). Some fine shots of the Manhattan skyline herein. And maybe if you squint quickly enough, you can even see the spires of Tudor City.

"Elephants, Yeah!"

I've never been an opera fan. Apart from Wagner's contributions to the score of "Apocalypse Now," opera tends to give me a big ol' headache. But I couldn't help feeling a little sad this morining upon hearing of the passing of Luciano Pavarotti, who genuinely seemed like a very nice human being.

In my idiotic opinion, his vocal majesty is best captured right here.

The Summer `07 Survey

Someone sent me one of these inane surveys, so I thought here would be as good a place as any to post it. Feel free to pick it up and post it elsewhere so that we can all share in the mindless mediocrity.

DEFINING MOMENT OF SUMMER `07: This one's a no brainer. Getting Horse Latituded from what was until then referred to as The Job.

BEST PURCHASE OF SUMMER `07: I'd have to say those old school Ray Bans (see pic above), purchased on a hungover whim at The Tanger Outlet Mall in Riverhead.

BEST BOOK YOU READ DURING SUMMER `07: "Downtown" by Pete Hamill

BEST MOVIE YOU SAW DURING SUMMER `07: Didn't.

BEST GIFT YOU RECEIVED IN SUMMER `07: Technically, it arrived after the Summer had stopped, but easily the angry, dark Treeson from my lovely former colleague, Jane.

BIGGEST LOSS OF SUMMER `07: Hilly Kristal. Also, I just heard that the plans for the Cedar Tavern to return have been abandoned. I mean, it was already dead and gone, but now it's evidently official. Pour one out for the Cedar. Oh, and on the personal tip, the sudden extinction of my job was probably my biggest loss.

SONG THAT SUMS UP SUMMER `07: For no readily apparent reason other than that it seemed to fit my overall mood, I'd have to say "The Great Annihilator" by SWANS.

HAPPIEST MEMORY OF SUMMER `07: Getting to spend oodles of time with my two demonic cherubim, Charlotte and Oliver.

SADDEST MEMORY OF SUMMER `07: Again, the loss of my job, although it's the people I miss more than the job itself. Beyond that, getting in a couple of big screamy fights with my mother and my sister on Labor Day weekend is kind've something I regret.

SCARIEST MEMORY OF SUMMER `07: Well, there was that time when I managed to scrape my Mom's car (which she'd leant to us for the Summer) across the side of a cop car (with a couple of very angry cops in it) on West 9th Street during the aftermath of the Gay Pride Parade. I sincerely thought they were going to take my sorry white ass downtown and get all plunger-happy with me, but being that I was practically sobbing like a girl scout and that there was mercifully no damage done, they were so disgusted with me that they let me go. Salute!

WORD THAT BEST DESCRIBES SUMMER `07: Unemployed.