Wednesday, August 27, 2003


not much


you know.

what can i say. i got the new lester bangs book. it's not as mindblowingly inspired as Psychotic Reactions. Here we see a more realistic picture of the artist's (and the workman's) body of work. He doesn't always know what he thinks. Especially about the Rolling Stones.

But who the fuck does?

With the whole garage revival thing, lester's detroit/new york-obsession seems more prescient than ever. i heard a song on kroq yesterday by Jet (the band that Tsar completely blew off the stage at Spaceland recently) that's such a retread of the Stooges/Iggy it's not even funny. Oddly, it also sounds exactly like Hall and Oates' "Maneater" at the start. "Maneater" and "Lust for Life" have the same beat. Who knew?

lester said once, i can totally picture myself twenty years from now, puttering around the house, still fondling my old Velvet Underground and Stooges albums. Everyone's going to be doing that, he said, so why deny it.

what's weird is that despite all this, the MC5 still haven't had any kind of real moment-in-the-sun--even though Jack White totally mimics their vocals and his band owes as much to them as to Blind Willie Mctell or whoever.

Maybe they just weren't cute enough.

I have to do quite a bit of work, so I better get going.

I also have to finish watching the Monkees' movie "Head," which I rented like three days ago. It's weird because Julio just told me that he saw "Head" on the big screen a couple weeks ago at the Arclight, and Peter Tork and Michael Des Barres, of all people, were there to talk and shit. LA is such a crazy place. when i was a teenager I was sort of friends with Peter Tork's daughter, Halle. Her name was Halle Thorkelson. She had cool super-short dark hair and an amazing amazon dancer body. She dated Jake just before I did. Jake told me they had a wet-T-shirt contest, the two of them, on the beach in Nicaragua. You see, they were hippie teens who were always going on these political trips to commie latin places. Halle won the contest. Mickey's daughter was also someone that my more glamorous friends were all buddy-buddy with, but I never met her. But there were lots of those musician-kids around.

last night me and julio listened to donovan and tripped out on how good he was. I had never really listened to that much Donovan. It was a drag because I had to admit that Marc Bolan didn't spring fully formed from his own universe. So many of Donovan's lyrics were exactly the sort of thing that the Futuristic Dragon would sing about a bit later. Furthermore, I didn't hear any notable Dylan-rippoffs at all.

Well, anyway, I have to run now. Wish me luck with all the crap i have to accomplish over the next three days.

Love n sparkles


No comments: