30 August, 2012

Welp, I paid off my credit card yesterday.

Can I totally not talk about music for a minute? Don't worry, I'll try to get around to something musically related in this post.
You see, as the title indicates, I paid off my credit card yesterday. Not a big deal for a lot of people. It was a pretty big deal for me.
You see, I never wanted a credit card and I had no intention of ever getting one. Even when I was in elementary school, I couldn't see the sense in borrowing money. And that was before I knew what interest was.
But then I began dating Angie and after we made the plan to relocate with each other to Minneapolis, she chided me for not having a credit card. I believe it was because she refused to put down her credit card as collateral on the Ryder truck we had to rent for the move and there was some argument over how, at twenty three? twenty four? I should have a credit card by now because that's just something you have to signify you're an adult: A credit card.
I know it sounds stupid but her tits made a very compelling argument. Hate to sound all misogynist up in here but I liked my girlfriend's tits and I never knowingly did anything to contradict them.
Also, you have to understand that Angie is in debt up to her tiiieeeyeballs. She's got government loans and shit like that for school, I think she gets her PhD next year or the year after that. That's a lot of debt. So things like credit cards are nothing to her. And, as much as I don't have too many nice things to say about her anymore, I also try to be somewhat fair considering that I also don't know her anymore - she may have changed since we broke up - but I vaguely recall her saying something about you don't really have to pay back a government loan or something cheeky like that. I could be remembering that wrong, it was a long while ago, after all. I'm just trying to illustrate the kind of tiii-person that had influence over me at the time: Already in phenomenal debt, planning to accrue more, and figuring that it would just "go away".
So I got a credit card because it was about time I had one (?) and I put down my Chase Bank Mastercard with a US$500 limit as collateral on a Ryder truck and moved to Minneapolis.
And everything was honky dory for a while, Angie and I both working while I was also attending school. And one winter day, I took Angie to work in the 'burbs in her car and drove her car back because I had to pick up her brat kid after school that day. And I was coming back from dropping her off when I hit a patch of black ice on 35W.
It was my first ever car accident. I fucked up my girlfriend's car. The other guy's car? It got a tiny scratch of green paint on it. Angie's car is (was) red.
It had a nice little Elvis lip curl to the front of it now and since Angie's insurance didn't cover asshole boyfriends, she had to pay for the repairs out of pocket, which meant that I had to pay for the repairs out of pocket. In an unexpected bit of what I guess one could call divine providence, the day after we got the estimate back from the body shop (just shy of two grand), my credit limit was extended to two grand. So, at twenty four years old, with a credit card in my possession for less than a year, I had maxed out my credit limit.
At the time, I had a fairly decent paying job (even though the work itself sucked) for being a mid-twenty something college student. By the time I graduated, I was bumped up from the call center to data entry (though never officially promoted) but as the field of work was in construction research and the the economy collapsed because the housing bubble burst... You can see where I'm going with this, right?
Soon, my forty hours were knocked down to thirty two, thirty two to sixteen, sixteen to twelve and from twelve to eight... Eight hours. I was working eight hours per week. I had already been looking for work but coming up short. I figured that in the meantime, I would have to get on foodstamps.
Do you know how many foodstamps a twenty seven year old single male, employed but working only one eight hour shift per week qualifies for in Minnesota? US$18, apparently. So, I broke out the plastic - my plastic, not the EBT plastic (which I never received, by the way) - when I went to the grocery store. Kind of had to. And I wound up maxing my credit card again. And again. It was a non-sustaining method of getting by. I froze my credit card in a block of ice in the freezer at least twice.
I've noted before in our hallowed halls here about how broke I used to be. About how, for a brief period of time, about a year, I was so poor that I was actually afraid of pay day. I don't know why I was, but the thought of having money even for the ten minutes that I'd have it before it had to be shipped off to my student loan companies, my cell service provider, and my Chase Bank terrified the shit out of me. If I had more than a dollar in my wallet, I'd worry about what I would have to do or, god forbid, get to do with that dollar.
It sucked. It was depressing. I broke down and cried at one point, I remember that.
And then I picked up a second job at the hostel here. I started pulling in some money. I joked that my primary source of income (the downtown firm) supplemented my supplementary source of income. My bills became easier to pay and my rent was getting paid on time.
I changed from Bremer Bank to US Bank so that I could have an account somewhere with A) more than one location I could reasonably get to and B) hours of operation during which I could actually visit. Because Bremer was, let's face it, ridiculously difficult for me to get to, I had been cashing my paychecks at one of those screwy check cashing places you see in the background of movie scenes when they need to illustrate that a character is in the ghetto. It wasn't bad. They charged something like only three percent to cash a check. And, had I ever needed a pack of squares, they sold those, too.
But I couldn't build a savings account with it. So, I took the time to go to Bremer, closed my account, they asked me why, I told them something polite that I can't remember, and walked down the hall of the mezzanine in the IDS Center and opened a US Bank account and started chucking paychecks in there.
Fast forward to this summer when I looked at my account. I had a substantial amount stashed away last summer but it was just a foundation, shall we say. And I have to admit that the only reason that I was saving at all was because I wanted to buy this thing:

Every last one of all 1,225 episodes on 131 DVDs and it comes with a poster.
It's also four hundred stupid fucking dollars.
Fuck you, I want that thing.
Anyway, I bring it up because my whole deal was that I wanted to make sure I had double the price in my checking account. When that happened, I was about to buy it when I thought to myself, You know? This really isn't disposable money. I mean I saved up to buy this but... Uh...
Granted, I did the math, taking only eight hours nightly sleep into consideration, this thing would keep me occupied for five and a half weeks if all I do is sit and watch every episode back to back to back nonstop. Four hundred dollars for five and a half weeks worth of entertainment? Come on, that's a steal! Right?
But I couldn't pull the trigger on it. Not yet. I needed to save even more. Maybe make it so that a four hundred dollar purchase would not be half of my savings, not be a third or a quarter, maybe a fifth or a sixth would be OK. A tenth would be dope. (Yes, I said "dope". Fuck you. It would be dope.)
But in the middle of my old-school pop-culture purchase frenzy, I realized that I could also take care of a goal I had last summer and fell just a wee bit shy: Pay off my credit card. I said it last summer and I said it this summer: I was done paying for Angie's car. After five years of paying sixty bucks a month and two years of paying forty bucks a month after my interest rate went down (And can I say that I know dick all about how interest works? Because my statement says my interest rate is 25.24% but substantially more than half [62.85%] goes toward interest rather than principal.), I figured I had paid for the hood of Angie's Honda Civic, a car I doubt she even owns anymore, two and a half times over. I was done carrying the balance. I've had two girlfriends - real girlfriends, not hook ups - since then. I voted in a presidential election since then and I have another one coming up that I still have to register for. I've graduated cum laude, lost a job, two jobs if you count the temp agency I worked for briefly but then my main contact left and the firm never called me with any more work but that doesn't matter because I'd already gone full time here by then anyhow... basically, I'm trying to say it's been too long to carry that stupid debt thanks to stupid black ice on 35W.
So, yesterday, I went downtown to my bank and asked for my balance. It was US$YouDon'tNeedToKnowThat. I told the teller, OK, I need to deposit this (my paycheck) and then I need a cashier's check for US$AnotherAmountIWon'tBeDisclosing. Basically, I cleared out a little under half of my account. That's right, I have more than half left.
I thanked the teller, went to Macy's, and bought a tie. But that has nothing to do with the credit card thing. I just don't have a tie. Again, let's bring Angie into it, I think she has my black skinny tie. Who knows? But I went to Target this past weekend and they didn't have any ties I liked so I left empty-handed and Theresa asked me why I didn't go to Macy's. So I went to Macy's and bought a tie. Sometimes people do shit like that. What do you want?
But now the question remains: What am I going to do with that plump, fat little nest egg I've got? I know I know I know that the smart money is on leaving it the hell alone; by this time next year, I can pay off one of my two student loans. But I want that DVD box set up there. I also haven't bought a new guitar since I was eighteen. And I won't lie. I've been doing some window shopping.

I could spend six hundred bucks to look like Bleach-era Kurt Cobain.

I could spend seven hundred fifty to look like Johnny Ramone.

Or maybe I could spend seven hundred fifty on this sexy little piece of black négligée.
I'm just saying, I could spend a little something out of what I have left and get a new guitar out of it and still be sitting pretty, well, pretty. Do I need a new guitar? No. The one I have works just fine. Do I need a box set of a nineteen sixties soap opera about werewolves and vampires and ghosts and Cthulhu and shit? Kind of. But again, I know that I ought to leave the money alone.
About a half hour ago, the mailman collected from the mailbox down the street. In it, contains my credit card bill, the last credit card bill I will ever pay. Because as soon as I get confirmation from Chase Bank that my account is clear and I'm not carrying a balance, I'm closing the account and melting the card in a big goddamned fire. While wearing a tie. Not that the tie has anything to do with the credit card, that's just how I roll.

29 August, 2012

Prince and the "Cocktail Garden"

M. Martin's September Resolution: 30 Reviews In 30 Days

Hi! I haven't been around SD&A for a while now. But I came up with a funny idea: for every day in September, I'll post a review of something. It'll often be a fairly short, paragraph-length review - I have a life to live, etc. - but it'll be a review all the same. I'll also try to review stuff that's just come out as well, in a deeply half-assed effort to garner Charlie some more page views. I'll try breaking out of my comfort zone and listening to people I might not normally seek out, which I'm sure will lead to at least a few pans. I'll also review albums that don't get enough notice, or albums that I just happen to like a lot (which is what I'd usually do - but that gets boring after a while, no?). Artists to be reviewed may or may not include Mott the Hoople, Mauser, Ariel Pink, Point Blank, Grimes, Simply Saucer, Twin Shadow, Veins, Warthog, Passion Pit, that new Cat Power album that's coming out, that new Bob Dylan album that's coming out, Animal Collective, Death Grips, Guided by Voices, Smog, etc.

There will be fulsome praise interspersed with vicious putdowns. And no one will care. But it'll be fun.

Later this year, Charlie and I may do another Point/Counterpoint. Or two.

OK, you know how some commercials have the wrong songs?

Like the Internet Explorer commercial with the guy warbling about how he's too close to love someone and how he "can't lie no mo'e" because he "[has] to be true to himself"? What does any of that have to do with browsing the internet? Particularly looking up tree frogs and sports cars, which is what the good people at Microsoft assume you're doing. I mean, really? He's too close to love a product that comes stock on Windows PCs? That you can download and install for free?
That's a prime example of picking the wrong goddamned song to push your product, not to mention that it's a shitty song and I don't know one person who uses Internet Explorer.
But then there are other instances where it's the completely wrong song but it's kind of OK. You know that Red Vines commercial? (Sorry, I have to go on the commercials that Hulu plays over and over.) That song they use, that goes "I love you more than anyone else, something something else"? You know that one? That has nothing to do with red goddamned licorice, nothing at all. That's like using "I Touch Myself" to sell Oscar Meyer franks or "Danger Zone" for NyQuil.
Granted, there aren't too many pop songs related to products but you would think that somebody in these companies' marketing departments could put a little more effort into finding more suitable songs if they didn't want to come up with jingles. I mean, really. That IE commercial. Yeesh.
But getting back to the Red Vines commercial, I don't know about you but that song is AOK by me. It may not have jack shit to do with licorice but I don't care. I like that song. It's a perfect example of an earworm: simple, repetitive, catchy. At least it's stuck in my head. I don't know about you.
So after hearing this goddamned nothing-to-do-with-licorice song for maybe the hundredth time in three days (Hulu really needs to get more commercials.) (I never thought I'd say something like that in my life.), I decided to find out whether this was a jingle or a song (yes, I know a jingle is a song, you get what I mean). So I does some digging, I does, which here means I just Googled "Red Vines song". Well, it wasn't the Aimee Mann song so it had to be this other one, called "More Than Anyone Else" by this band called Mostly Sunny. So, here, I found you some power pop. Enjoy.
Also? I did find a song specifically about a product.

27 August, 2012

Your weekly musicians' ads.

I'm not too sure about the quality of this week's batch. Everybody's outside playing now that we're coming to the end of summer and the state fair is going on.

Looking for Singer -- Hard Rock/Heavy Metal -- Age 15-20 (Elk River/Ramsey)

Date: 2012-08-25, 9:49PM CDT

Looking for a Hard Rock/Heavy Metal singer who will go all the way. You mean, like, put out? Yes, this is for real. That's awfully forward. I don't want some douchebag (listen to me mumble into my mic) singer, and I don't want a screamer. Have you ever had a screamer? I mean, really, they're fun. I want a singer. A real singer. If you cannot sing, do not message me. You can send me an E-Mail and we can begin to talk. Which is it? Can I contact you or not? I would like to hear you sing, so get ready to record yourself. If I like what I hear, we can exchange numbers and you can come jam with me (lead guitarist) and my drummer. We are not just some retards looking for a couple gigs before college. OK, that one stung a little. The music I write, and we write will go far, if you do not want that, then do not message me. I look forward to hearing from you.

P.S. We live in Ramsey/Elk River area. Cheers.
  • Location: Elk River/Ramsey
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Guitar/ bass player

Date: 2012-08-23, 2:28AM CDT

zeppelin combined with johnny cash and modest mouse, if your interested in being apart of an innovative movement. Musical empathy. I have absolutely no idea what any of that meant.
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3 days 4 songs.... here they are (minnesota)

Date: 2012-08-22, 5:01PM CDT

1. corrosion of conformity- clean my wounds
2. black stone cherry- blame it on the boom boom
3. motley crue- livewire
4. ffdp - under and over it
5. down- stone the crow
That's five songs.

sunday i have two other talented musicians meeting me in st peter..... we are all in our late 20's early 30's and this is a career for us.... So, wait, are you getting on Craigslist just to tell us about this?
(some people showing up sunday already make money with bands in the area ) Well, bully for them.
the expectations of this band will be playing live atleast 8x a month... OK.
( already have the pa just need the musicians!)

this is our first rehersal but, Uh, thanks for sharing? I NEED MORE TALENTED MUSICIANS expecally I like how the word "expecally" feels in my mouth. a singer....
all songs that we are going to play/will play Uh, pretty sure "going to play" and "will play" are the same thing. will be hardrock/rock music

reply back with some video!
  • Location: minnesota
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Talented Bassist needed (Saint Paul)

Date: 2012-08-22, 12:05PM CDT

SERIOUS BAND looking for serious musicians who want to INVEST and be INVESTED in the band. Are you asking for money? Let's jam and see if you are it. Don't contact me if all you are is a jobber or only want to be involved if you get paid right away. If you are doing so well with your professional career as a musician, what the heck are you doing on here????? You know? I've all but given up asking that question in these ads over the past couple years. Do you think every band out there that has made it to the big time while getting paid from the beginning? That is some English-as-a-second-language grammar, right there. I mean, I get what he's saying but goddamn. Get a clue, lazy butt. Did he just call me lazy butt? No one has made it big that way. All Artists-Musicians that are making it have sacrificed much more than YOU Moi? (the jobber) I'm a jobber? are willing to sacrifice, by actually writing their own music and carving out their own way. And If you have a music degree, I have an engineering degree. GOOD FOR YOU! That being said, just because you have a degree in music, you aren't exempt from hard work or being invested. So yes, this is a project where you probably will have to sacrifice some of YOUR time and a bit of gas money for rehearsals. Good talk, Dad. When we are a full ensemble then we can talk about where to gig, what to pay, Was that intentional or a Freudian slip? etc
This band requires all who are involved to be invested, You keep using this word, "invest". I'm beginning to suspect that you're like that little guy from The Princess Bride who kept saying "Inconceivable!" and I'm Andre the Giant over here going, "I don't think you know what that word means."* not just "the leader." So if you are one of those people who think they can just show up for rehearsals and do nothing else, MOVE ON! We only want motivated, goal-oriented, positive, creative, talented musicians to be in the band. The Xxxxxxxxx is a "no-drama" band, committed to practice and quality music. And also, apparently, looking for a bassist on Craigslist for nearly two damn years.
No. Seriously. It's just that this was the first time they got a little jack-assish about it.
follow the links and give us a listen! PC)
There were links here, now there aren't.

  • Location: Saint Paul
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And cue the inevitable impotent community backlash in five... four... three... two... one...

Re: Talented Bassist needed - (Saint Paul) (sailllllin)

Date: 2012-08-22, 1:03PM CDT
Reply to: see below

Geez for being a "no drama band," half your ad was a rant about how you hate dudes that make money playing music, or have a music degree. Relax- I mean, I'm sure you're a big deal and all.... They're not. but it takes all those snobby educated musicians and paid musicians to really make your original money-pit band look awesome to the rest of us. It does? We all get it too dude- the joke is on them. Will you follow a linear narrative, please? I am too hungover for this Bill Burroughs cut-up technique word collage bullshit thing you have going on.

Too bad- I was gonna call you because I listened to your stuff and I too love Christopher Cross. They do sound like Christopher Cross. Bummer.

Ride like the wind.

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re: re: Talented Bassist needed (Saint Paul) (Joe Biden-ville)

Joe Biden-ville?

Date: 2012-08-22, 3:11PM CDT

Don't miss the opportunity to climb on board the rocket to success with a group of ugly 50-somethings still trying to "make it". That was harsher than any joke I've ever made here and I'm the guy who makes molester van jokes about the dad from Small Wonder...
No, wait. I've made harsher than that. Carry on, young padawan.
When reality is too hard to accept, turn your frustration to others faults (jobbers, music majors, people who don't fall in line with your lofty dreams of stardom). The rest of us lowly working stiffs will continue to pursue opportunities that suit our own preferences.
  • Location: Joe Biden-ville
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Re; Talented Bassist needed ( Rage against the music communiteeville)

Date: 2012-08-22, 10:15PM CDT
Reply to: see below

Ease up on the meth pipe a little dude. Thanks for reminding me; I still have to download last night's episode of Breaking Bad. You don't want to blow an aneurysm or somethin'. If your'e mad at the last bass player that tried out, then tell that guy. Don't freak on the whole music community. He didn't freak out on anybody, he just outlined in a more-than-just-a-little dickish manner as to what he expects from prospective bassists. We like your stuff and love all of ya. UUUhhh... speak for yourself, much? Jus' maybe repeat your mantra and stair at the lava lamp a little to calm down. You sound like a goddamned hippie.

It is not alright to respond to this ad in anger or with malice. OK, first of all, you're seriously going to try to tell that dude what kind of response is and isn't OK? Secondly, you opened up your (unsolicited, mind you) response by insinuating that the guy is under the influence of methamphetamine. Also, you sound like a hippie so just shut the fuck up.
  • Location: Rage against the music communiteeville
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And then a light shone from the heavens...

Bass Player Wanted (Minneapolis)

Date: 2012-08-20, 9:39PM CDT

Looking for a guy or girl in their 20s or 30s to step in to fill the void left by our bass player that has too many other commitments. OK. We are 3 fellows in their mid 30s--drums, guitar, and guitar and keys at the moment. We don't have a band name yet, but we are tightening up 10 songs that need your creative input and sweet low end. Uh, alright. They are original, so if you're looking to do Crue and Warrant covers, hit up Craigslist in St. Cloud or something. I fucking love this guy already. You can not wear Teva sandals nor Crocs, I just came. no jean shorts, I don't even have cut offs. no kids, Wouldn't dream of having any! and you can't be married. Why in hot rats would I want to go and do a stupid thing like get married? Also, if you play your bass 3 inches from your chin, you might want to lather on some patchouli and see if Wookie Foot needs some low crunchies for a reunion show. You mean we both share a disdain for hippie jam band crap?
I want to gay marry you.
Drug and alcohol problems ok. I just came again. Influences: Lifter Puller. I'm down.
  • Location: Minneapolis
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* I found the actual line at IMDb if anybody cares that much.

25 August, 2012

RIP Neil Armstrong.

Found out tonight while I was making dinner. Kind of bummed. He was from Ohio, you know.

23 August, 2012

I want a pair of backup dancers. Not for any dance-related purposes but for the eye candy.

From Mr. Satan Goes to Wall Street comes the song "God is Going Broke". Right now, according to the musical's website, it's being performed in the NYC area and will be touring to the RNC in Tampa and the DNC in Charlotte, so if you're like me and you don't live on that tour route... I don't know. Hope that your local theater troupe puts on a production. Looks pretty fun. And the backup dancers from the NYC troupe are cute as sin.
Get it? I made a pun.

20 August, 2012

I haven't drawn at the bar in a while.

So I picked it back up for the fuck of it. I'm a little rusty now, not as bad as I had been, though. I got the idea to draw a Gibson Girl figure because, fuck it, I'd never done that. Then I put a Mosrite Mark II (the Johnny Ramone guitar) in her hands because lately I've got a hard on for the Eastwood Mach Two which is basically a replica of the Mosrite and I'm trying to force myself to not buy one. I'm not saying that I've had some financial windfall, nor have I gotten a raise or a different job or anything, I'm just saying that, in another week or two, I'm going to, thanks to being thrifty as shit for the past six maybe seven years, be in a slightly more comfortable financial situation than what I've been in. And now I just want to buy toys.
Anyway, this one needs a little detail work but it's still what I do best: Women playing guitars.

Saturday night's dinner.

That was an improvised chicken a l'orange. I didn't have any solid dinner plans and I made up my mind as to what to make on my way to the Bow on Saturday morning.
They had a sale on chicken at the Bow - ½ off - so I was able to pick up a six pound bird for something stupid like five and a half beans. I needed the bigger bird because, well, basically, I needed something with an asshole large enough to accommodate the orange and those three and a half pounders can barely champ a half an onion.
I peeled two navel oranges and split them each in half, putting the first half up the chicken's butt (I know it's not the butt but it's just funnier to talk about putting things up butts.) (Don't tell me that you don't get a little laugh when you talk about putting things up butts.), followed that with a quarter of a red onion, some minced garlic, a lime wedge, and then the other half of the first orange. And then I tied the legs together because I had a hankering to turn dinner into a bondage joke.
I put it in the crock and surrounded the bird with slices from the other navel orange and two cloves of garlic. I seasoned the bird with sea salt, mixed fresh ground pepper corns, paprika, mustard powder, about a half dozen sage leaves, then some thyme and oregano and a whole stick of butter.
About three hours later, I juiced two valencia oranges into the crock and turned the bird over to sink the breast meat into the juice.
How did it turn out? Well, it certainly looked pretty. I mean, look at it. And it smelled great, too. But would you believe that after six hours with four oranges - sitting in the juices from two with whole slices sitting on top all the while with one up its ass - it didn't taste like oranges? What kind of happy horse shit was that? It wasn't bad by any means but it wasn't the chicken a l'orange that I had gotten myself all jazzed up over.
So, yeah, sometimes I fail. At least when I fail, I fail photogenically.
I mean, look at it.

Your weekly musicians' ad.

It's been a long time since we had only one. And I'm not going to lie, this one isn't even that good.

Punk Rock (Andover)

Date: 2012-08-19, 10:42AM CDT

No, not pop punk. Thank you. No, not hardcore metal. Well, that wouldn't be punk because, you see, it's metal. You even said it's metal. Definitely not metalcore. I can't keep up with all these "________cores" anymore.

Think back to early AFI. OK. Remember how good that was? No. Maybe think Zebrahead Still haven't gotten around to listening to. or Rancid. Ew, gross. I've got this weird little feeling that the world could use a good dosage of some classic punk mayhem. Because there was a deficiency all of a sudden? So here's the facts. Lay it on me, brother-man.

I play guitar. OK. I have guitar gear, I would hope so. and I can utilize it well enough. So, wait. Was that a roundabout way of saying you can't really play?
If you play drums Nope. or bass, I can. we could have a nice little circus going on here.
If you can sing, That's debatable. even better. I can sing too. But I'd rather do one thing at a time. Was that a roundabout way of saying you can't sing?
Remember though, every single piece of the band is mandatory to create the full effect. I have no idea what this means, yet I agree with it. Thus is the zen of Craigslist.

So. What are we looking at? I don't know, what are you looking at? I don't have a life. Same here. I lack a serious career. Hear that. I want to play music for people. And it's about to get weird in that inflated-sense-of-importance way in three... two... one... We are the true voice of the world, and we can only do that if we give the world a reason to listen. You're asking a bit much from a guy who's only marginally interested in playing bass in a band that plays, well, bullshit.
I want this to be almost entirely about the performance. Here we go. This is where shit's about to get weird. Yes, good music is a necessity, I sense a "but" coming. (That's what she said.) but the live show is what's going to absolutely kill. I need men or women of the highest live performance pedigree. Pedigree?
I will hurt myself on stage if I have to get the audience going. So, you can't play guitar, you can't sing, you just want to get on stage and jump around a lot. Have you thought about just looking for ska bands and doing that thing that one guy from the Mighty Mighty Bosstones did? All he did was skank or whatever the move is where you run in place in time to the music and keep your arms up like you're doing the chicken dance. (Is that skanking?) He didn't play an instrument, he didn't breathe a word of back up vocals, he didn't even technically have choreography. Just the same dance, every time. Skankin' it up. Image is important too. But of course. Look the part.

If you're in, No. hit me up. I'm Xxxx. I'm 19. That explains it! Don't much care how old you are as long as you can fit in and lay off the substances. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA Fuck you. Don't need anyone passed out in a puddle of their own piss before a show. Ye of little faith. Know what you're doing. I do. Most importantly, have fun. I do.

I look forward to talking to you. Keep looking forward.
  • Location: Andover
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15 August, 2012

13 August, 2012

Saturday night's dinner.

Curried barbecue chicken breasts with steamed artichoke and corn on the cob.
I had never made an artichoke before though I had artichoke hearts about two or three months back on a pizza. But I found one at the Bow (I now call Rainbow the Bow because I'm a choad like that.) and was surprised that they were US$2.99 each. Three dollars for one vegetable, I had damned well better cum when I put this thing in my mouth.
Now first thing was first, I had to learn how to prep one of these things. The three or four YouTube videos I watched made it look complicated but in the end it was pretty easy. Basically, you cut the top off of it, you pull off the outer leaves, coat the still attached leaves in lemon juice so they don't brown (they actually do pretty quickly) and pop it in the oven at some bullshit temperature for some cockamamie amount of time. I didn't pay attention to any of that shit because I just threw it in the crock. (I also looked in to prepping the heart. There's some inedible fur in there that you have to clean out.) I put it in the crock with a cup of water and tossed the chicken breasts in on either side of the artichoke.
The chicken breasts were seasoned with fresh ground mixed pepper corns, sea salt, chili powder, curry powder, fresh minced garlic and fresh minced ginger. After an hour and half, I topped the breasts with diced onion, sliced tomato, and two tablespoons of butter, each.
Then, when it came time to get this all onto the plates, I separated the artichoke leaves from the heart and discarded the browned ones, setting aside the lighter ones from closer to the heart for dinner and even using the one from in the heart to garnish the breasts. I then pulled that hairy stuff out of the heart.
Some of you may balk, but I topped the breasts with Open Pit barbecue sauce. Trust me on this: The flavors complimented each other, it really turned out great. The artichoke, though, reminded me a bit of cabbage. It wasn't bad but it wasn't worth three dollars. At least to me. Anyway, the finished product, sans corn on the cob, is pictured below, albeit fairly blurry. I would've gotten a better shot but I was hungry and I was ready to eat already.

Your weekly musicians' ads.

For real, I opened up the office this morning, answered a few emails that neither my assistant manager or my seasonal staffer bothered answering this weekend, and then some French guy came in to the office, said "good morning" and asked me if I wanted to "smook a leetle weed".
At nine thirty in the fucking morning. After I clock in.

Drummer HERE!!!! Hardcore/pop/whatever! (Lake Calhoun)

Date: 2012-08-12, 3:12PM CDT
Reply to: see below [Errors when replying to ads?]

And we're about to lose cabin pressure in three... two... one... So heres the deal, i NEED a band. He needs it. Its my life. It's his very essence. I have drummed for all my life When he crowned from his mother's vagina, he crowned with a drum stick in each hand. im 19. Therefor old enough that I can make fun of you. Which doesnt sound like a lot i know.. lol but ill give samples. I have been in hardcore metal bands but im wanting to do something else. Im down for a metal/hardcore band if it comes up and catches my ear but i really wanna do something different. Here we go. Im looking for a band that wants to be more pop sounding! More like All Time Low, Was that the band I heard for the first time last week? (reads last week's batch of ads) Yeah. Still don't remember what they sound like. Blink 182, possibly I See Stars, Take cover, the more pop scene. Never been in that kind of band Never been in that kind of band. but im serious about it. But he's serious about it.
Let that sink in: He's never done it. Has no experience in it. Has heretofore told us that the bulk of his experience has been in metal (or what the kids call metal anymore). Yet this thing that he's never tried, he's dead fucking serious about.

If you want more info let me know.

Previous bands.. Listen to the drumming.. im the drummer. No shit, Sherlock. lol You didn't have to LOL that.

There was a link with a cool band name here. He should name his next band this band name.

I got rid of this link, too. (the only song on here thats me is "Despise and Rejoice" by Of Saints and Martyrs) THATS THE ONLY SONG BY ME

Another cool band name. At least the kid either knows how to name a band or associate himself with people who do. I'll give him that much. (Last band I was in)

email/text if you have any questions (only text)
xxx_xxxxxx@yahoo.com Oh, that's why!
  • Location: Lake Calhoun
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CAPTAIN CHARLIE CD available! (anywhere and everywhere)

I'm sorry, what?

CAPTAIN CHARLIE CD available! (anywhere and everywhere)

OK, I'm going to go ahead and assume that this is somebody who is completely unaware of my existence and not trying to deliberately piss me off by taking my good name and making it sound like something either a gay stripper or a franchise of clam restaurants would go by by appending a nautical rank to it.

Date: 2012-08-12, 2:20PM CDT
Reply to: xxxxx-xxxxxxxxxx@comm.craigslist.org

Hey everyone and thanks for clicking! Captain Charlie here, Just for the record? Not me. just letting everyone know I have my cd available again. Great, because I totally recall asking. Some of you may know me from Tru Tv's Vegas Jailhouse (was arrested for street performing in Las Vegas). [Googles] Uh... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k_vIpa2Ert0 and uh... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZmdBJupSg6E "Please Tip for Photos, This is my 'Real Job'". Wow.
[shakes head]

You can preview my cd on my website, I just gave her fifteen minutes of fame up there, let's not go hog wild. I'll tell you this much, though: According to her homepage, homegirl here is bonkers. (click on the music link). And if you'd like the cd, you can email me. Feel free to contact me on facebook too (Nope.)

Thanks for reading and I hope you all have a wonderful week!

Captain Charlie
All these links are gone.

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Rock Drummer For Non-Pussy Band??? (Uptown)

Sorry guy. I don't drum and I like pussy.

Date: 2012-08-11, 10:16PM CDT
Reply to: xxxxx-xxxxxxxxxx@comm.craigslist.org

Established rock and fucking roll Rock and fucking roll! Whoo! band seeks punk/rock drummer. Bitches!
Band is from Philadelphia, Straight up Rocky Balboa style, motherfuckers! recently relocated to Minneapolis. Because motherfu- Wait. Why?
Band has an EP released, OK and the name of the EP? and a full-length in progress (drums recorded).

Must be available for small (1~2 wk.) regional tours throughout the US. Reasonable for an established rock band.
Must be able to learn drum parts by ear. Bass, snare, bass bass, snare. There. I'm in.
Must be available to rehearse _at_least_ once a week. Reasonable.

Serious inquirers _only_. Please email for links to our material.
S my Bs with your M. Ah, ha ha ha! You had me going there. I thought you were using lazy internet shorthand to request that I Send you samples or links or something, with B being for some new word for the samples and M being for the other but then why would I send you your own work and then I picked up on it. Suck on your Balls with my Mouth. Clever. Clever and charming. You're really going to win over potential drummers by telling them to fellate you.
So, non-pussy band? Guys blowing guys?
Nice. Subtle.
\m/ -.- \m/
  • Location: Uptown
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fuck you join my punk band or whatever (downtown st paul)

Great, this fucking guy.

Date: 2012-08-10, 10:07PM CDT
Reply to: xxxxx-xxxxxxxxxx@comm.craigslist.org

A link to a band that has advertised on Craigslist before was here, now there isn't.

if you like our music (or don't) Ding ding ding! and think you can play it then I'm all game.

if you're going to half ass it fuck off

:) Really? The colon / end parentheses smiley? On its own? Cripes.

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Looking for Producer for Nerdcore Project (NE Minneapolis)

Date: 2012-08-10, 7:30AM CDT
Reply to: xxxxx-xxxxxxxxxx@comm.craigslist.org

Hello CLers:

I know nerd is chicle Chiclets? and chic now, but I'm almost 29 and I've been reading comic books, playing video games and immersing myself into nerd/geek culture for about 2 decades now. I'm listening. I'm not saying I'm going to listen favorably, but I'm listening.

Anyways, the genre of Nerdcore intrigues me a lot. Why? You're nearly thirty. I've even wrote the words to a couple of tracks using a beat maker and such. However, I'm complete rubbish using Fruity Loops or anything like that.

This is where you'd come in: Making beats and rhythms for me as we form some sort of Nerdcore project along the lines of MC Chris, Everybody says MC Chris. MC Lars, Danger Doom (or MF Doom really), It's OK. Everybody knows that the only reason you got into MF Doom was through Danger Doom because of the Adult Swim record they made. MC Frontalot, Optimus Rhyme, Deltron 3030, Commodore 64 or any artists similar to that.

As I said previously, I have the words to about 3 songs already written down; One about Torrents and Illegal Downloads, Hey, 2001 called. It says it's happy to be relevant again but is done being debated. one about Tetris Because that'll get you laid.
Well, I'm assuming in the nerdcore circles that, yeah, that will actually get him laid. By chicks with really out there paraphilias.
and another about Nikola Tesla. I won't lie: I dug it when Bowie played Tesla in The Prestige. Obviously, since its a collaboration, and essentially group, you'd be an equal partner on anything. Hell, if you even want to sing on the tracks, I'd more than welcome that too! Yes, I want to sing on the tracks. I want to remind people what being a nerd really was back in the day. Maybe that makes me ON (Original Nerd?) and a cranky one at that but, yeah, there was nothing cute about being socially awkward, intelligent, and interested in obscure or underground things at the same time back in the day. Not like now, how it's been fetishized and pumped down the public's throat with the marketing tag that it's adorable to be a nerd now with shite like Big Bang Theory. Try to be a nerd growing up in southeast Toledo circa the 80s and early nineties. We weren't cool, we weren't fashionable, we didn't have girlfriends and guys wanted to beat us up because they knew we couldn't fight back. And did they call us nerds? No. They called us faggots and spit on us.
And while I suppose that I ought to be happy that the social caste I identified and comported with has been raised to an echelon of respect, that respect is only a false front for what is underneath: Again, the fetishization of "nerd culture" which has nothing to do with being a nerd so much as it is a rattling off of a list of various pop culture ephemera tied to the tag "nerd". Wow, StarWars rap songs. Wow, Dungeons & Dragons rap songs. Wow, Nintendo rap songs. Great. Anybody dare to write about getting chased home from school and getting the shit kicked out of you because you were scrawny and looked different? You know, write about the life experience of associating with this culture rather than the products you are enthusiastic about?
Again, I'm probably just a cranky old man who has to suck the fun out of everything but for me the idea of nerdcore is as offensive to me as when I hear a punk band write a song about how punk they are: It's empty, purposeless, and fake and relegates something I identify with to a joke for larger institutions to sneer at as invalid.

Anyways, I look forward to hearing from you! No thanks. I already had my soapbox there.

  • Location: NE Minneapolis
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10 August, 2012

My district and my rep were on The Colbert Report last night!

During the "Better Know a District" sketch, Stephen Colbert visited the "fightin'" fifth district and sang the Mary Tyler Moore theme with my representative, Keith Ellison. It was pretty awesome.

09 August, 2012

Did he really have to bleed all over everybody else's food?

It may not be the best thing ever this week but I think it's still pretty cool. It's got that Jorma Taccone guy from The Lonely Island cutting out his own heart which, as it turns out, can do a mean Cee Lo impression while Jorma brilliantly and cynically deconstructs the process of post-breakup recovery. Or something to that effect.

08 August, 2012

I hope you're ready for the best thing ever this week.

"Mystery Boy", a short piece by Jérémie Périn, the beautiful bastard who brought us this video back in October (note I didn't pick up on it until December), and Flairs is doing the goddamned soundtrack. Funny as hell and I'll say spoiler alert to this: The two-headed thing reminds me of the artwork for Melvins' Houdini. Enjoy the shit out of this.

Prince and the Bicycle Pump

07 August, 2012


Half hour after the bout.
Four days after the bout.
For a Friday night, I imagine that I could’ve found any other activity. I was invited to a friend’s gallery showing. There was a band I like playing over at the Triple Rock. My regular girl insisted I call her up while I had a four day weekend and I had a new girl I was playing phone tag with but that game annoys me more than it intrigues me. So my options were open and I opted out of all of them: I wanted to start a fist-fight.
Not having been in an actual fist-fight in something like nineteen years, the idea struck me as nothing more than just something to do. I like Fight Club and Every Which Way But Loose and Any Which Way You Can and watch them with some small amount of regularity. I had taken a few martial arts classes when I was about thirteen, maybe fourteen, at least when my family still lived in Toledo. I thought I was prepared.
I was also drunk. Five screwdrivers and a twelve pack of shite beer deep if I do my retroactive math right. I had not been so blitzed in maybe three years by that point, the last time involving a half a fifth of slum whiskey and a twelve pack of malt liquor. I had a four day weekend, don’t judge me.
Now, the point of the fight, if there was one, I can’t recall if there was, was just to have some fun. There was no malice involved. You can consider it sparring, I guess. So I chose my opponent: The new guy at work.
To keep things friendly and safe, I established the ground rules of the fight:
♥ Firstly: Punches only. No kicks, holds, throws, or head butts. No elbows, no knees, nothing but fists.
♦ Secondly: No punches above the collar or below the belt.
♣ Thirdly: Because it seems to me that dirt is softer than concrete, we kept things in the dirt. If one of us was forced out to the driveway, the bout was put on hold until everybody was back in the dirt.
♠ Fourthly: There was a safe word. “Off.” Somebody called “off” and the bout was put on hold until that person was ready to go again.
Seemed to me that these rules would be a good framework to proceed within. Nobody’s glasses would get broken and we could return to our desk jobs without big ugly glaring purple shiners under our eyes or crooked noses for which we’d have to seek medical attention.
I had a yellow stripe (not belt) in Tae Kwon Do. My opponent admitted he had “a little” jujitsu training from his two years spent teaching English as a second language in northern Japan. This did not negate the fact that neither one of us had ever had an opportunity to put these skills to any use since we attained them; my last fist fight was a year or two before I took those free classes at the Y with my mother.
Most of the details of the bout are lost to me. Again, I was lit like a Fourth of July exhibition. Add to that that it’s one thing to witness a fight, it’s another to engage in it. If you haven’t fought lately, in a capacity friendly or otherwise, then be aware that it’s a fast-paced event. Decisions are made milliseconds before they are carried out, often actions are taken without forethought. To a skilled and seasoned fighter, the process may be different, I wouldn’t know. There are sundry examples of trained and professional boxers relaying how things go into slow motion once the bell rings to start the match. However, when two nebbishes with questionable judgment get into it… Well, I can’t speak for my opponent but I’ll assume that the event went for him much like it did for me, judging by what I can remember from his moves: Fire, aim, ready.
The bout began with an almost cinematic quality. As we readied ourselves by discarding our shirts, phones, and cigarettes, it began to rain and rain heavily. Me? I said hell with it. My coworker said the same and we stepped out into the back lot and assumed our stances. His stance was more relaxed than mine, rocking back and forth on his front and rear positioned legs. Me? I opted to bounce up and down on the balls of my feet. I kept my left fist up in front of my face and my right fist cocked back, ready to strike where he opted for what I took to be the classic pugilist stance, showing the backs of his fists toward me, his opponent. I remember saying whenever you’re ready but I can’t remember who landed the first solid punch. I’ll give us this much: We at least knew how to block even if we were bad at it. But we were also bad at punching.
I was the first one to call off. I felt winded. I chalked it up to and still chalk it up to my pogoing maneuver. Looking back on it, I should’ve called that the bout; we were two sopping wet men two minutes into a fist fight we had no desire to take all the way to a knock out. Instead, I behaved like an idiot, hot-boxed a cigarette and drained the beer I had on the patio table and said I was ready to go again.
In what I guess you could call the second round (out of four, hell, maybe five), I already felt my right wrist jamming up but kept going, now improving my performance by incorporating left jabs. It was in this round that I was forced out onto the concrete. I stepped back into the dirt, now mud, and began throwing another flurry of punches and catching just as many in return.
I can’t remember who called off the second time. Might have been me, might have been him, but I welcomed the break.
This began round three. I caught two blows in the neck - an accident - and called off.
In round four, I lost my cool from having caught two neck punches and began assailing my coworker with a rapid succession of left and right jabs, eventually turning to overhand hammering on his back that sent him out to the concrete. I think he might have called off. He told me that I split his lip at any rate. We lasted a few more minutes in the rain and the mud, me now without my glasses and he without his flip-flops before we finally called an end to it and retired under the awning. I found a few scratches to my left flank and accused him of scratching. But I let it go and passed him my flask of J&B scotch and gave him one of the few extra beers I had in the fridge.
He went home soon after that. I went home and watched an episode of some shitty sitcom I had taken for charming in its own way, had another beer and a few more cigarettes and went to sleep, laying on my back as it was the only comfortable position to lay in.
When I woke the next morning, I found that my left flank had blossomed some lovely red and purple polka dots. My coworker’s biceps were so darkened from bruising that one of his tattoos was nearly undetectable.
My assistant manager looked at me and shook her head as I walked into the office to check on things (even on my day off, yes) and that was when I learned why Brad Pitt told Fight Club members twice not to talk about Fight Club: Nobody understands it. As I told others about my experience, nobody understood it except for one of the waitresses I talked to on Sunday morning who said that my bare-knuckle boxing was awesome. She then explained that it was because she equated it to that she had just bought a pair of roller-skates. I didn’t see the connection but I was glad that I met somebody who didn’t immediately asked me why I would do such a thing.
People don’t get it, not even if you tell them that you had rules that you felt would negate serious injury, not even if you tell them that Hemingway boxed or something like that. Apparently, boxing is OK to watch, OK to read about, but not to do. It’s perfectly socially acceptable as a sport so long as you don’t engage in it.
I also came away with an understanding about injury. I sit here typing this out three days after the fact and I’m still in pain. I could’ve gone to an art show, a rock show, or gotten laid that night but I didn’t and now I sit here with a pair of cracked ribs. I cracked my ribs ten years ago and I know that I’m in for a week or two of not being able to cough, laugh, take a deep breath, or bend over to tie my shoe or wipe my ass without a significant amount of pain. I know that riding a bike, one of my favorite past times, is out until my ribs heal. I know, because I tried riding my bike to the farmer’s market about two and a half miles away the morning after the bout. Fucking is right out the window, too.
I understand now why professional boxers get in the ring only once or twice per year. My injuries and my coworker’s injuries are the result of a thirty one year old (myself) and a thirty year old (him), both out of shape, skinny but with little paunchy guts (I know mine is from the beer, I don’t know where his is from), trading punches with each other. Take two twenty somethings in the peaks of their physical condition and professionally trained and allow them to batter each other about the face, resulting in nose, eye, mouth, neck, and brain injuries. There’s a reason they make as much money as they do: Once or twice a year, they have to put a price on their next six-month recovery period where they are out of work, practically convalescent. Me? I’ll be recovered after two weeks and that’s just because I cracked two ribs. The pros, they break theirs. They puncture lungs. Not to mention the noses that have to be reset and the new teeth they have to have installed in their mouths.
Am I going to box again anytime soon? I thought about doing it next week. I thought about it while I lay on my couch and dicked off on the internet for the day after the bout. And I thought about it yesterday. Today, though, while back on the clock and hearing from my new guy that he’s pretty sure that his ribs are cracked, too (“Give it two weeks,” I said), and that we may have to reconsider this whole weekly fist fight nonsense as two out of shape early thirty somethings, I thought, yeah, maybe not.
Even if I owe him another split lip for that second neck-shot.

06 August, 2012

Your weekly musicians' ads.

Note to self: It takes a few days to recover from bare-knuckle boxing. Rethink backyard fight club idea.

hipster drummer needed (minneapolis)

Date: 2012-08-05, 2:46PM CDT
Reply to: xxxxx-xxxxxxxxxx@comm.craigslist.org

for occasionally melancholy, often snarky lyrics-driven power-pop-punk / pub rock trio. Lil Jon What?
unless you also bring along another guitarist.
then it'd be a quartet. Uhh...
no watered-down-cover @!#$ here.
must have reliable transportation and a basic work-ethic-common-decency sort of thing going on.
hipsterhood not required btw... that was a little, uh, "joke"? Was that supposed to be funny the way Portlandia is supposed to be funny? but we don't judge.
  • Location: minneapolis
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I need SINGERS, thousands of them. (All)

Date: 2012-08-05, 1:39PM CDT
Reply to: x.xxxx@yahoo.com Coming with the punchline up front, I see.

Sing intricate duets , acappella splits against other singers or a counter-melody/song. Two seperate Halloween songs combine No, seriously, the sentence ended there.
If you have a personal studio, sing with yourself, learn, record, maybe get rich from e-stores. WWWhhhaaattt??? I wan't 3%. Melodic tutorials available from I-Tunes.
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Singer/Age.19/Serious Musician. (Brooklyn Park/New Hope)

Date: 2012-08-04, 8:02PM CDT
Reply to: xxxxxxxxxxx@yahoo.com Wait a minute. You're nineteen, so you should be hip, you should be with it. But still, you're using a Yahoo! address?
Batten down the hatches.


Pop: I dont mind Joining small groups.
Katy Parry/Gymclass Heroes/Bruno Mars/ Mainstream stuff. I just felt my testes recede.
(Basically recording artist kind of stuff.)
Im more into being in a band.

Rock Band like: Sleeping with Sirens/Escape the Fate/Falling In Reverse/ A Day To Remember/ Emarosa
Memphis May Fire/Woe Is Me/My Chemical Romance/Pierce The Veil/The Used I've heard of, like, two of those bands.
Im close to this ^^^, So I will not want to do anything like All Time Low/ or (you know what i mean. Chick Pop Bands. Cant do it. Sorry) All Time Low is a girl group? [Googles] They're not a girl group, what are you talking about?
Also dont ask me to do, bands in the 80's, cover bands, or stuff like the red hot chili peppers. If my ribs weren't bruised, that would've made me laugh. (Please be somewhere near the genre I put above.)
I dont mind Acoustic music like. Second Hand Seranade.

Skills: Im a Singer, I can play acoustic guitar. I make my own Lyrics. You write lyrics. I Make The music.

About me. Im a just a straight up musician, Work a job, More on that in a minute. Free most of the week, Still need a car. (but rides arent a problem) Spend most of my day,
working on my vocals. and making better songs. I get vocal lessons. And I'm working on creating my own mini studio, And im about to start
college online for music prodution, So i can record my own music. When it comes with working people, i dont mind attempting new thing
but i prefer sticking to what i like most, Im honest with the people i work with, determined, and get things done when they need to.
I going to do music as a career, and theirs no changing that.

/Wed.Free after 3pm
/Fri.Sometimes Sometimes. work at second job but not often.
/Sat. I work at a Venue. but not every time Not with any, you know, regularity.
I work a morning job so, staying late till like 9pm is a problem. Nine at night is late for you? I understand if you have to get up at four or five in the morning to go to work but the thing is that I just read your availability; you're practically unemployed. You work one day a week with any sort of consistency. And you also want to start a band. Bands tend to have to, you know, go on stage at nine at night.
For fucking real.

Unless its on a Friday, Or Saturday.

I know the text looks all serious Nope. and crap, That one, yes. but its for the sake of it being easy to read, and blunt.

  • Location: Brooklyn Park/New Hope
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Is it mean if I make a joke about English not being this next guy's first language?

Recording studio (Brooklyn park)

Date: 2012-08-03, 9:20PM CDT
Reply to: xxxxx-xxxxxxxxxx@comm.craigslist.org

we very reliable and available most days
for the price you are very good quality sound
we use a neumann tlm 102 one of the best microphones you can find
we work off logic pro 9
asking for $10 per hour and $12 mixing per track

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  • Location: Brooklyn park
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In Defense of Cover Bands (MN)

Date: 2012-08-03, 11:52AM CDT
Reply to: see below [Errors when replying to ads?]

I don't have anything against original material but some folks need to understand that not everyone is a fabulous songwriter (myself included). I've never been able to write anything that was even slightly good. ¡Aye, pobrecito! So I leave songwriting to those that know how to do it.

Damnit, Jim, I am a musician, not a songwriter. My job is to pick songs for my band that meet the following criteria.

1) Good song.
2) Most people like it.
3) It fits our skill (i.e. We can play it well).

That is my formula for having fun and making a few bucks. Notice that I did not say "success". Or anything about fulfilling any sort of artistic ambition or maintaining a higher level of dignity than that of a dancing bear.

Having said that, I would like to address the comment I've seen a few times saying that "cover bands are making money off of other peoples work". That is not true. Uh, yeah, it is. Kind of like how jukeboxes get filled with quarters to play a variety of songs that, more than likely, the owner of said jukebox didn't write. If we make any money, its because we play the covers well. It's a quality issue? Seriously? How many people do you know that would go see a bad cover band more than once? To be honest? I don't know a single person who goes to see a cover band. Not one. I'm not exaggerating, either: I have never met one single human being in my entire waking life that has intentionally attended the performance of a cover band for the expressed purpose of doing so. I've met people who have booked cover bands for wedding receptions and parties, I've even been in the same room as a cover band performed myself, but I've never attended a performance to gain the experience of attending that performance, I was there because I got dragged to a wedding and I was looking for the ham roll-ups or whatever.

The songwriter makes money too through the various music copyright agencies (ASCAP, BMI, etc..). Any establishment that hires cover bands has to pay a fee to these agencies. That money is distributed to the artists that own the songs. Thanks, I totally forgot Business I class.

I see one particular listing for gigs repeated over and over. It always says "original musicians only". I have to wonder if its because these places are so hip that people won't come if the band plays covers. Or is it because the venue wishes to avoid paying the copyrighted music fees? It could be that, I won't deny that's the case. Every bar / venue owner I've ever spoken to - and I won't bullshit, that number is in the single digits range - has plead goddamned poverty up one side and down the other whenever the opportunity arose; they're cheapskates, plain and simple.
But the "too hip" argument? Yeah, I can see that one too because cover bands? Yeah, lame. Original bands are just cooler. People like them more. And, yeah, it's a money thing. I've never been in a cover band to compare and contrast the financial experiences, but I'm going to assume that you have a fee you charge up front, there's probably a contract you have your clientele sign, that sort of shit, right? You're running a business. On the other side of the coin (pun not intended), original bands, particularly small, local upstarts, they don't have the kind of clout to pull that off. They get a cut of the door and that depends on how many of their friends they can get to come out and see them. They're cheaper.
And lastly, there's this thing... You know the guy on the road crews who holds the STOP/SLOW sign? My friend Jimmie has a friend who yells at those guys, "You can be replaced by a bucket of sand!" Same thing going on here: A bar can buy a jukebox and then you're out of a job because if people want to hear "Pour Some Sugar on Me", chances are that they want to hear Def Leppard do it,* not some other band. So an audience would probably prefer the jukebox because at least that way they get to hear the version they want to hear and it costs them a quarter.

* Unless they're M., in which case they wouldn't want to hear Def Leppard because they have some sort of weird hormone imbalance that makes them wrong about, you know, everything.

  • Location: MN
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Beware of certain ads for "Starting a Band"

Date: 2012-08-02, 1:44PM CDT
Reply to: see below [Errors when replying to ads?]

I've seen a couple of listings the last couple of days for "Starting a Band". They are looking for all types of musicians and singers. But there is one piece of info missing. The person posting the listing does not mention what instrument he/she plays or whether they are a singer. And to that I say...
Beware Beware! as it is possible that The calls are coming from inside the house! these are some type of a scam.
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Alchemical Guitar Lessons (Minneapolis )

Date: 2012-08-02, 11:07AM CDT
Reply to: xxxxxxxx@aol.com

ROBERT JOHNSON SOLD HIS SOUL; Oh, god, are we going to have to put up this shit?
JIMMY PAGE MADE A PACT; I swear, every fucking week there's at least one "rock mythologist".
JIMI HENDRIX CAME FROM OUTER SPACE; Sounding like a crystal rubbing hippie.

WHAT ARE YOU WILLING TO DO TO REALLY LEARN THE GUITAR ????? I don't know, not use five interrogation marks?

Richard Lloyd, I'm sorry, what?
Legendary Guitarist Founder of Television I know goddamned well who he is. and of CBGB's UUUhhh... I don't think he was a founder of CBGB's is here in Minneapolis. WHAT!?
I just came.

Mr. Lloyd teaches the guitar Richard Lloyd - Television ass Richard Lloyd - is in Minneapolis teaching guitar?
I just came again.
as a magical instrument which can describe the laws which govern Reality itself. OK, what's the reverse of cumming?
With all due diligence, Mr. Lloyd strives to help his students to find thier OWN VOICE on their instrument. I can get down with that but the other part...

This teaching is not alphabetically based, but enjoys a spiritual tradition that is as old as MAN HIMSELF. OK, first you tell me that Richard Motherfucking Lloyd, the guy who was responsible for half of the guitar work on one of the greatest records ever made - goddamned Marquee Moon - and is the figure study in the coolest picture in rock 'n' roll...

This one.
... is in town and teaching guitar and making me come all over the place and then you go and break my heart with all this hippie talk.

Thus, following the laws which govern music and reality itself, the dedicated student can expect allmost miraculous
changes in his or her playing and skill.

Contack Richard at xxx Wait wait wait wait wait... I'm about to get Richard Lloyd's phone number? [girl squeals] xxx xxxx or write xxxxxxxxxxxxx@gmail.com OR xxxxxxxx@aol.com

To facilitate any other questions or to set up an appt.
I swear if any of you fuckers is pranking me, I'll cut your balls off with the same kitchen scissors I use to trim fat from chicken breasts and I won't wash the scissors first and I'm going to hurt your balls a lot and punch you in the mouth a lot. Basically, I will knock your teeth out and kick you in the bag.
  • Location: Minneapolis
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Do you want to practice your bass skills? (Minneapolis)

Date: 2012-07-30, 11:25PM CDT
Reply to: xxxxx-xxxxxxxxxx@comm.craigslist.org

Hi there... Hello. if you are very enthusiastic on playing /practicing your bass guitar with us...you are in!.... I'm in what? we get together What am I in? twice or once a week (usually Wed and Thu night) OK, but I'm... what am I in? to practice songs we know... Oh, it's just an informal jam thing? we can get gigs if we practice together for a while. OK. Requirements : being loud, OK. punk rock, Right. spanish I'm out. ( not really...:) ) Oh., spanglish Wait a minute. (not really.....) Is that your thing? ,english Oh, but that one's serious. Got it. Well, fuck me, I'm German-Irish, two nationalities with storied and grossly misrepresented hatred for the English that doesn't really exist but kind of does but not really but, mm, yeah. So, I'm out. ,the pixies, We've been over that one. the cure, That one, too. nirvana, Shouldn't need to be brought up by now. the vines, Won't lie, had their moments. salsa (not really.....), OK, so that's your thing, then? Mentioning a facet of Spanish or Hispanic culture and then immediately taking back that you consider it a requirement? That's kind of weird. I mean, yeah, I know that when I get a hair up my ass I'm all Irish this and Irish that all damned day. Come check me out during March, I'm just one big Irish stereotype. Real Irish people hate the shit out of me, I'm sure of that. Check me out come Oktoberfest, I'm German as shit, I'm wearing my SS uniiiI mean lederhosen. So tell me, guy, tell me you're at least Spanish or Hispanic because otherwise those jokes are weird. It'd be like if I made fun of Ukrainians. fun,sweat.

Call me if you like the idea...at xxx xxx xxxx , ask for Carlos. OK, good.
  • Location: Minneapolis
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PostingID: xxxxxxxxxx

03 August, 2012

Second day of my mini-cation (aka Why I need to go to Nordeast more often).

So, it turns out that I netted a sunburn during the Turf Club debacle yesterday. Thankfully it's more of a coloring than an irritation.
Today, I didn't know what I wanted to do, really. I knew I had to do laundry - Friday is laundry day, no matter what - but after that I had no plans. I thought about going to the museum across the street but I got invited to a gallery opening shindig whatchamacallit tonight so I'll probably have art overload if I try to do both. Bell Pepper Hating Christine told me about a Self Evident show over at the Triple Rock but I don't know if I'll make it. That and I'm still pissed off about dropping thirty dollars on two shitty bike repairs yesterday.
So my first order of business was to get my bike fixed right and go to Flanders Bros. I'm going to center align this next part just so y'all knuckleheads get me:
Flanders Bros. is the best bike shop in Minneapolis.
I took my bike in this morning while my clothes were in the dryer, told the guy that I needed my brakes tightened and he says, "Oh, let me show you a trick. You see this little barrel-drum here?" And boom-boom-boom, no tools, no wait, no hassle, my brakes are right where they're supposed to be. Less than a minute and not charged one copper Yankee cent. I then used this information to fix the brakes on Scott's bike when I got back to the house.
I also cleaned up the back porch and the fire pit. So, Occupier who stayed with us this past winter, sorry, but all those cans of paint and stencils you left behind? You have until garbage day in the Historic Mansion district to come dig them out of the trash cans in the alley. Considering you haven't contacted us about your paint in the eight months since you stayed with us, I'm going to go ahead and assume that you forgot them. Also? I'm pretty sure it was one of your drunk-ass friends that vandalized the staff refrigerator, specifically my food, thus causing me to buy twelve feet of chain and lock my fridge every night, so let's call it even.
Then, thinking ahead toward dinner - at 1400CDT, mind you - I got a hankering to go to Kramarczuk's and get some Thüringer Rostbratwurst, a particular kind of bratwurst from the German state of Thuringia. Kramarczuk's has everything but not always everything. One time I saw they had alligator sausage. I knew people ate alligator but I didn't know they made sausage out of the bastards. So, I decided to head up to Kramarczuk's to see if they have this particular kind of sausage.
On the way there, I stopped at Nye's Bar, a nice little Polish place down the block from Kramarczuk's. I had a Grain Belt and watched the Olympic water polo on the TV with the bartender. I guess I got a hankering for Nye's after watching Factotum - the movie where Matt Dillon stars as Bukowski's Hank Chinaski and was filmed in the Twin Cities trying to convince the viewer it was the same as Los Angeles (hint: it's not). At one point, after about forty five minutes or so of me recognizing the decidedly un-LA landmarks, Matt Dillon as Chinaski stumbles into Nye's. I figured, I hadn't been to Nye's in a few years, I always liked the place, why not go check it out?
I eventually asked the bartender if he was working there when that movie was filmed. Turns out that not only was he working there, he was on the clock that night that they filmed there, he just didn't show up on screen. That was cool, I guess.
Then I went to Kramarczuk's for some Thüringers. They didn't have any so I thanked the kid and told him I would just browse. The Krakowska caught my eye and I asked the kid and he said it was a ham based sausage that was very garlicky. At this he made a face to indicate that the garlic was too much for him. He told me he could give me a sample and I said sure, a small one. I tried it and, you know? I thought it was pretty great. So, yeah, it was US$7.09/lb but I said hell with it, I'm on goddamned mini-cation and it's about goddamned time I buy something I actually goddamned want, so give me a pound of that.
And here's the thing: After all those dirty looks for asking for ice water yesterday, I get thank you, sirs and can I help you, sirs and come again, sirs from the starched-collared bartender at Nye's and the cap wearing kid at Kramarczuk's. So, yeah, fuck the Saint Paul Starbucks (he said as though there were only one) and fuck the muffin booth at the Greenway bike shop (which shall remain nameless even though it's totally easy to figure out); I'm all about Nordeast MPLS. OK, and Whittier. I live in Whittier and I think it's cool here so I'm down with Whittier, too.
After that, I went to the library and picked up a library card, the first I've had since NWOH.
So day two was much more pleasant. The only gripe I have is that now it's only twenty to five and I have no idea what to do with myself.
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