40

I owe my loyal listeners an apology.

I don’t know why “As The World Turns” by a hip-hop group called “Blackalicious” sounded like a good idea on yesterday. I was looking for some good hip-hop, which is difficult to find because there is so precious little of it. I sampled it at eMusic and it sounded all right. Up it went. But I listened to it on the commute today, and I realized that it is horrible. Awful. Just terrible. To make up for it, I have deleted it and have put in its place a lovely Toots/Maytals rarity I found on the eMusic. I also found and uploaded Nixon’s resignation speech, which you might not find as amusing as do I. Though you might, so listen for it to come around on the B.O.N.K.

I turned 40 last weekend. That’s right. I’m a 40-year-old blogger. Mr. Stern, who’s been giving Mike Gangi a hell of a hard time for his bloggy ways, would have quite a lot of fun with that. Oh, well. It was a nice celebration, a fancy dinnor at The Restaurant Formerly Known As Whitey’s, cake, presonts. My lady got me an Obama kit, including a car magnet for Esther. I also got an incredible set of cookery ware and some other junk. Mostly it was nice to have lots of nice folks nearby during this trying event.

Needed: Beatles Bungalo Bill/ Guitar weeps | cheryl crow all I wanna do |panama/top jimmy van halen

Thank You Adele

I watched Saturday Night Live last evening waiting for it to be funny. After seeing Tina Fey as Prudence Palin, it was not generally funny. I stick my my notion that, with this cast, anyway, the caliber of the host sets the tone of the funny; if the host (Michael Phelps) is lame, then so will the entire program. So, it was not funny, but it did offer me yet another trip to introspection via music and mortality. There was this lad named “Little Wayne” as the musical guest there. And he was doing some performing of some kind. There were musicians doing things, I think, or at least, they were pretending to apply various percussive pressures to musical instruments. There were two gentlemen at center stage, both making utterances into microphones.

I shook m’lady, who was already half asleep. “Am I getting old? Or is this just plain horrible?” “A little of both, probably,” she replied. Then she glanced at the TV and focused on it a little. “No. It’s really horrible.”

I don’t think it’s just that I’m getting old. I have been a grumpy snob about music since I was 12 years old, at least. I have been an aficionado of orchestral music, of jazz, of ska, of rock, often of music performed off the beaten path. But I consider my tastes to be somewhat informed, having been raised playing a musical instrument, having performed in wind symphonies, in jazz bands, in marching bands, having studied the subject in college and being a failed music major, and, yes, having rocked a karaoke mic at one point in my life so well that they threw dollar bills and panties at the stage. Put it this way. I am not so trained in music that I could draw you a circle of fifths from scratch. But I am trained enough to know what one is.

And it just seems to me that the most successful popular artists of today no longer consider even the most basic tenets of musical composition. Works by Little Wayne and his contemporaries don’t sound right to me I think because these are artists who do not use a frame. Because, honestly, their purpose is not to create musical compositions. Little Wayne’s purpose is to create loud rhythmic noises to entertain drunken people in dark smokey clubs and to create a public personna that will allow him to sell records. Professional musicians, at least those in the most mainstream arenas, are more marketers than they are musicians. This has always been true, but I think&38212;and perhaps this is where the “getting old” comes in—that it seems more circularly vicious than ever. “Back in my day…”

Fortunately, there is Adele.

What is it with these English exports making the American music scene look like a bunch of a-holes? Amy Winehouse may be a complete screwup, but at least she’s recorded some music with some integrity (check out Winehouse’s The Ska EP for more evidence of this, baby ).

Anyway. I have just now heard of Adele on Nic Harcourt’s Sounds Eclectic. And, yes, it is available on eMusic. So, yes, it is now on the playlist at Radio B.O.N.K.

Hey Now!

All blogging efforts have been here lately, as you might imagine. May you live in interesting times. Ech. I am sitting watching Rudy Giuliani bearing false witness all over the damned place. I do not understand Republigoats.

Let me share a little food trick with you. This is awesome. I call it “Brekfist Sammich.”

You buy a package of Morningstar Farms “sausage” patties. You buy a package of whole wheat Englush muffins. You buy some ‘murican cheese. Some mayonnaise, perhaps. And, maybe, your favorite pickle slice. The Morningstar Farms things come in packs of six subdivided into two packs of three, so you may want to just make three of these things at a time. Throw the patties on a skillet and start grilling them up. You don’t need any oil. In fact, don’t use oil; these things taste better just fried dry on a skillet. Split and toast your Englush muffins. Grease up the toasted Englush muffins with mayonnaise. Spritz a little fresh pepper on those bad boys. One quarter of ‘murican cheese on each side. One pickle, slightly drained on a nappie, on one side (you don’t need the pickle really, but I like it). Throw on the pattie and close up your sammich. Then, throw it on the pan you cooked the patties on and grill it a little, just to moosh it all together. Let it cool, then shove it in a sammich baggie and wrap it up in freezer paper. Write “My Brekfist Sammich” on the side, date it, and throw it in the fridge.

I eat one of these bad boys nearly every morning, nuked at the office for about 14 seconds, with a glass of juice. You almost feel like you’re eating a sausage biscuit. It’s gud. And these don’t require much thought, so no matter what else you’re cooking, you can always have a brekfist sammich production line going on the side.

Anyway. That’s my fud trick for the day. In other news. It’s going to be wet and gross here this weekend, and I am irrationally petrified at the prospect of losing power due to Hanna. I hate not having power. Hate it hate it hate it.

Oh, yes. Here’s a nerd tip for you, too. Check out Google Chrome. It’s a Web browser that is better than any other. Fast, fast, fast. This browser rocks.