This awful day seems like as good a day as any for me to take a break.
Instead of forcing myself to come up with stuff that I'm just not genuinely excited about, I think I'm going to take a little time off.
In a nutshell, I've kind of lost my muse, for the moment. I'm not in a mindset to share anything new. I don't have anything to say. I'm not feeling the need to express myself.
I'll be back when I re-find my inspiration.
I made a few pilgrimages to Los Angeles in the `90s when a couple of my friends moved out there (specifically to a bungalow in nearby Costa Mesa, as I discussed here). As a lifelong New Yorker, all I knew about L.A. was stuff I'd seen in movies and television, romanced by locales from films like "Repo Man," Penelope Spheeris' "Suburbia" and "The Decline of Western Civilization." I dutifully logged hours in music joints like The Troubadour, the Whiskey A-Go-Go, the Roxy, the Viper Room, the Jabberjaw Coffeehouse and the Rainbow ...specifically to pay homage to Lemmy from Motörhead's perch at the bar. We ate and drank copiously in places ranging from Barney's Beanery to the Formosa Cafe, and hung out everywhere from the La Brea Tar Pits to the arid bed of the Los Angeles river and even tried to reach the Spahn Ranch, where the Manson Family briefly held court. It was all so alternately exotic and sleazy and intriguing and glamorous and historic and beautiful. So, yeah, I was basically a completely insufferable, doe-eyed tourist, but the place left an indelible impression on me that sustains to this day.
Earlier this week, a friend of mine posted a video of the smoldering remains of her home, and then came reports that the flames have reached Sunset Boulevard, where several of the concerns listed above are. To see all this unfurl has been shocking and heartbreaking.
There are lots of ways to help. If you are in a position to help, consider donating to MusicCare's Los Angeles Fire Relief Effort to Help Music Professionals Fund or the Los Angeles Regional Food Bank or Salvation Army California Fire Relief, to name just three.
Try as I might, I really don’t have anything especially deep or profound to say about the final day of 2024. Whatever grievances you might still be harboring about proceedings during the past twelve months, I’d suggest it’s safe to say that, given the circumstances, what lies ahead probably stands a very great chance of being considerably worse. But, y’know, we’ll see.
For my part, it was a somewhat tempestuous holiday season, so I’m more or less glad we’re at the tail end of it. I ended up catching the Christmas fumes, so to speak, and overcompensated in the gift-giving department, if only to stave off a few other pervasive narratives that were threatening to overtake and sour the holiday. But, everyone got through it without any major tumult.
Speaking of overdoing it, I also feel that the time is nigh to give the ol’ “Dry January” another whirl. Yes, I know — laugh it up. Peruse through the December posts here going back several years, and you’ll doubtlessly discover myriad posts wherein I vowed to scale back and get through the entirety of the month without deviating, only to abandon the program only a scant couple of weeks — or in some instances only a few days — into it.
This year is different in that, given that my feet are still giving me a lot of problems (in a nutshell, my left foot is in a perpetual state of numbness, while my right foot is starting to replicate its counterpart). My primary care physician and my podiatrist only speculate vaguely about it, but assure me that, at the very least, it’s not gout. Gout, as I understand it, is comparatively very pronounced (i.e. really painful). This could be any number of things … a spinal issue, nerve damage, peripheral neuropathy and, if you Google it, several other dispiriting warning signs of potential problems. In any case, as I understand it, there’s a longstanding correlation between foot issues and alcohol consumption, so I’m curious to see if swearing off the stuff makes any difference. Watch this space.
But we’re not there, just yet. As the Specials used to sing, although they certainly didn’t write it, enjoy yourself … it’s later than you think.
See you of the other side.
I remember remarking, during the — good lord, I really hate that I have to qualify this — first fucking Trump administration, that the solitary silver lining was that maybe — just maybe — we’d get some new, galvanizing protest music out of the debacle. I looked forward to hearing the same spirit of uncompromising, invective-laden fury that fueled much of the anti-Reagan/anti-Thatcher hardcore and post-punk of the `80s. Surely, this brazen new level of fatuous corruption, proudly incurious idiocy and thinly-veiled avarice would spark that same vein of rage. But with the possible exception of maybe Dead Cross and YG & Nipsey Hussle, all the world really got was a steady diet of Ed Sheeran, Bruno Mars and Taylor Swift.*
One could depressingly argue that, given the state of popular culture’s dependency on new technology and social media, music no longer serves the same purpose that it did in that comparatively simpler era. By and large, the popular songs of today don’t so much reflect our reality so much as obfuscate and distract from our reality, readily reducing themselves to background entertainment and fodder for inane TikTok clips. Music as a vehicle for expression of dissent, release and emotional catharsis? Try getting that from Sabrina Carpenter.
Mercifully, there are still exceptions to the rule. Back with their second EP in seven months, Light of Eternity (L.O.E., for short) returns here in mid-December with Aftershock, another four-fisted faceful of songs that arrive with all the cheery delicacy of a plutonium-coated sugar plum. Those expecting a clutch of holiday covers are in for a bumpy Christmas morning.
Retaining the oomph and urgency of their debut EP from last June (which I rapturously wrote about here), this new pack of tracks finds the trio stretching out a bit more, adding different textures to their expanse of sound. But when the band leans into their attack, each member brings the full assertive palette of their abilities to the table. Fred Schreck’s sonorous vocals remain as strikingly elastic as on the debut. On guitar detail, Pauly Williams continues to open up his arsenal, showcasing a penchant for thick, melodic lines, hefty riffs, rafter-shaking power chords and a tenacious chug. As ever, Big Paul Ferguson drums like a man driven by a pronounced sense of purpose.
That purpose speaks to my earlier lamentation. Somewhere between wake-up call, scathing screed and venomous rejoinder, the whole of the Aftershock EP is essentially a reflection of the times and topically rooted in defiance of a doomy dystopia. For those paying attention, this record couldn’t be more well-timed, as the world teeters nervously on the precipice of the next four years. No punches are pulled, no quarter is given and no prisoners are taken.
It would be a bit disingenuous to argue that the spirit of Killing Joke, Ferguson's legendary band whose sudden suspension in the wake of the tragic passing of guitarist Geordie Walker last year, doesn’t palpably reside in this music, and, indeed, a nation of KJ fans will doubtlessly find much to savor in this new EP.
But in as much as the sensibility and certain genetic elements of the Joke inform proceedings, make no mistake — L.O.E. is very much its own band and its own entity. Aftershock is another bracing demonstration of this trio's expanding abilities, and bodes exceptionally well for a future musical oeuvre that will serve as a nourishing, emotional catalyst for refusal and resistance. Find it on Bandcamp and celebrate accordingly.
*I fully realize this is something of a sweeping generalization.
It's hard to fathom that we're here, already, but the end of 2024 is nigh. What lies ahead might look pretty grim, but before we delve into all that, I thought I'd take a final look back at the last 12 months and dust off this old thing. Here we go...
WHAT DID YOU DO IN 2024 THAT YOU’D NEVER DONE BEFORE?
I appeared in a documentary about record collecting and record-store culture produced and directed by the niece of a great friend of mine. You can watch it here.
DID YOU KEEP YOUR NEW YEAR’S RESOLUTIONS, AND WILL YOU MAKE MORE FOR 2025?
I don’t believe I made any, thus did not keep any, but this year, I’m sworn to complete Dry January. Watch this space.
DID ANYONE CLOSE TO YOU GIVE BIRTH?
Not that I recall, no.
DID ANYONE CLOSE TO YOU DIE?
The mother of a friend of mine passed away, not too long back.
WHAT COUNTRIES DID YOU VISIT?
France, Scotland, and Ireland.
WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE TO HAVE IN 2025 THAT YOU LACKED IN 2024?
Greater will-power.
WHAT DATE FROM 2024 WILL REMAIN ETCHED UPON YOUR MEMORY?
Well, let’s face it, Election Day was a swift kick in the groin that most folks aren’t going to forget any time soon.
WHAT WAS YOUR BIGGEST ACHIEVEMENT OF THE YEAR?
Staying tenuously sane, married, and somewhat gainfully employed.
WHAT WAS YOUR BIGGEST FAILURE?
Again, I feel I am personally undisciplined and am still a slave to bad habits. I am endeavoring to rectify that.
DID YOU SUFFER ILLNESS OR INJURY?
I continue to grapple with foot issues. Adopting Hokas has certainly helped, but I’m still experiencing regular numbness, which is pronouncedly disconcerting.
WHAT WAS THE BEST THING YOU BOUGHT?
Ummm… probably that pair of wide-toe Bondi 8 Hokas. They don’t look especially stylish (to me), but they’ve made walking considerably less uncomfortable.
WHOSE BEHAVIOR MERITED CELEBRATION?
My children continue to thrive at their respective schools. I could not be prouder.
WHOSE BEHAVIOR MADE YOU APPALLED AND DEPRESSED?
The 76.9 million who put Trump back in office.
WHAT DID YOU GET REALLY, REALLY EXCITED ABOUT?
In a bad way, the election.
WHERE DID MOST OF YOUR MONEY GO?
This year, probably airfare.
WHAT SONG WILL ALWAYS REMIND YOU OF 2024?
Probably “The Silence That Remains” by The Horrors.
COMPARED TO THIS TIME LAST YEAR, ARE YOU HAPPIER OR SADDER?
Now that we’re empty nesters, I’d say I’m melancholier than I normally am, but I’m sure I’ll adjust to it, in time.
THINNER OR FATTER?
Undoubtedly fatter.
RICHER OR POORER?
Our building’s debilitating assessment came to an end, so I’m doing slightly better than I was at this time, last year.
WHAT DO YOU WISH YOU’D DONE MORE OF?
Being of more attentive, loving assistance to my tirelessly fantastic wife.
WHAT DO YOU WISH YOU’D DONE LESS OF?
Eating, drinking, and spending irresponsibly.
HOW DID YOU SPEND CHRISTMAS?
Hasn’t happened yet, but I expect it will be Christmas Eve at home with the kids, then we head off to my Mom’s place in Quogue for two days. Then we come back and board a train to Pennsylvania to my sister-in-law’s place for another couple of days.
WHO DID YOU SPEND THE MOST TIME ON THE PHONE WITH?
I’ve absolutely no clue.
DID YOU FALL IN LOVE IN 2024?
Only fleetingly with the concept of a brighter tomorrow without a certain public figure impeding everyone’s lives and ruining everything in sight, but unfortunately that individual was re-elected.
HOW MANY ONE-NIGHT STANDS IN THE LAST YEAR?
I’ve been very happily married since 2001, thanks.
WHAT WAS YOUR FAVORITE TV PROGRAM?
“Slow Horses” continues to be the best goddamn thing on television since the criminally cancelled “Mindhunter.” I was also pleasantly surprised by “Bad Monkey.”
DO YOU HATE ANYONE NOW THAT YOU DIDN’T HATE AT THIS TIME LAST YEAR?
No one new, no.
WHAT WAS THE BEST BOOK YOU READ?
I greatly enjoyed Griffin Dunne’s family memoir, “The Friday Afternoon Club.”
WHAT WAS YOUR GREATEST MUSICAL DISCOVERY?
While most of my favorite music of this year was made by comparatively established names like Gavin Friday, The Horrors, The Cure and Light of Eternity (they’re a new band, but comprised of Big Paul Ferguson of my beloved Killing Joke, Fred Schreck of the Ancients and Pauly Williams of Chaos 8), I did indeed “discover” some brand new bands (or new to me, at least) like Lawns, SPRINTS and the excellently named We Hate You Please Die.
WHAT DID YOU WANT AND GET?
In the wake of the election, I became singularly preoccupied with being able to see my kids and was able to do that when my wife and I flew over at Thanksgiving to spend several days with them at their respective schools.
WHAT DID YOU WANT AND NOT GET?
A markedly different election outcome.
WHAT WERE YOUR FAVORITE FILMS OF THIS YEAR?
If you had suggested that, given the subject matter, I would have been half as engrossed as I was with “Conclave,” I’d have scoffed. Beyond that, I can’t say I watched that many.
WHAT DID YOU DO ON YOUR BIRTHDAY AND HOW OLD WERE YOU?
My wife insisted on us having a few friends over for my birthday, which was nice. I turned 57.
WHAT’S ONE THING THAT WOULD HAVE MADE YOUR YEAR IMMEASURABLY MORE SATISFYING?
Trump’s loss and imprisonment.
HOW WOULD YOU DESCRIBE YOUR PERSONAL FASHION CONCEPT IN 2024?
Non-existent.
WHAT KEPT YOU SANE?
The wife and kids.
WHAT CELEBRITY/PUBLIC FIGURE DID YOU FANCY MOST?
I always find this question kind of inappropriate, but the wife and I both concur that CNN’s Abby Philip is quite striking.
WHAT POLITIAL ISSUE STIRRED YOU THE MOST?
Just one? How about the fact that everything across the board is now fucked up beyond repair, and the proposed clown car of Dick Tracy villains vying for cabinet positions doesn’t bode at all well for any semblance of a manageable future devoid of chaos and conflict. But hey, you know best, America.
WHO DID YOU MISS?
Wayne Kramer, Steve Albini, Pat Collier and James Chance.
WHO WAS THE BEST NEW PERSON YOU MET?
I met our daughter’s boyfriend for the first time. He seems like quite a nice kid, much to my relief.
TELL US A VALUABLE LIFE LESSON YOU LEARNED IN 2024?
H.L. Mencken was right. No one ever went broke underestimating the taste of the American public.
SONG LYRIC THAT SUMS UP 2024.
Meek & obedient shall follow the leader down well-trodden corridors into the valley of steel – Pink Floyd
With the Thanksgiving holiday looming, we're heading back over to see our kids, next week, at their respective schools in Scotland and Ireland, so be prepared for things to be a little quiet here until I get back the following week, wherein we begin the frantic spiral into the gaping jaws of Christmas season proper.
Take care of yourselves in the interim, and try not to succumb to the temptation of waging any invective-laced political debates at the turkey table.
No one will be well served by that.
In the futile interests of creating space in my brain for things other than withering contempt and existential dread, herewith a short list of non-horrific things I learned this week.
None of this will probably effectively distract you from nauseating news about the clown car of Dick Tracy villains our president-elect is assembling for his cabinet for the next four years, but one does what one can.
I've been in such a weird headspace for the past several days -- I haven't really taken any joy in any of my usual predilections. They feel disingenuous, and I'm tired of forcing myself to course-correct and get back to normal, but it just doesn't feel right or accurate or appropriate or correct or satisfying.
I've been trying to listen to music that is galvanizing and/or cathartic or, at least, in some way emblematic of the ways I'm feeling, and nothing has really nailed it. I realize this all sounds terribly histrionic, but EVERYTHING FEELS FUCKING WRONG.
It wasn't until doing dishes, this evening, and listening to the track below -- which has absolutely nothing to do with frustration or catharsis or anger -- that things started to slowly feel a tiny bit better. The world is still a complete mess, now, but God bless fucking Herbie Hancock.
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