Tag Archives: music

It was an M2, KFAI Vinyl Voices, Harriet Brewing kind of Saturday Matinee


Laughing Buddha Statue

And some old friends were a spinnin, mindfully (well, I spin in an intentionally mindless way, which could be construed as mindful, if you think about it. Don’t think about it too hard, though.) Marc and Beth were manning the M2 table with some hors d’oeuvres and information was flowing along with the hoppy brews.

Added set – Drew’s gig the next day – all 45s delighting the brunchers at The Third Bird.


And When I Die….


I’m not dying or anything, but I have a rather morbid preoccupation with planning the playlist for when I die (perfect Halloween theme here….) I guess I’ve just been to many funerals of people I’ve known who would’ve absolutely HATED the music played at their wake and funeral – I know, I know, they weren’t THERE. But suppose they were…. Anyway, here are some of my bequests:
Frank Zappa – Peaches in Regalia
Funkadelic – Maggot Brain
The Stooges – I Got a Right
Patti Smith – Gloria
The Kinks – This is Where I Belong

The MC5 – Kick out the Jams (the Motherfucker version – I don’t care, I’ll be dead, sorry, Aunt Nancy, if you’re there)

The Beatles – In my life (ok, that’s sort of a standard funeral one)
The Beatles – Helter Skelter
Pink Floyd – Lucifer Sam
Tiny Tim – Livin’ in the Sunlight, Lovin’ in the Moonlight
The Stooges – Down on the Street
Sonic’s Rendezvous – City Slang
The Animals – It’s my Life
Cows – Hitting the Wall
Then there’s some stuff like Muslimgauze and other droning things like Big Lights in a Fat City I’d have playing in the background while the mourners eat and get drunk, and a few Irish tunes – Boiled in Lead playing Son O Son and Step it up, Mary.
I better put this in my will. Oh yeah, I better write a will.
What’s in your death mix?

A song for every feelink


I simply can’t get through the day without emoting in musical form. Today it’s been courtesy of the Davies brothers (and yeah, us Americans HAVE been mispronouncing it incorrectly for all these years…it IS “Davis,” not “Davees,”) and The Kinks. I keep telling my spousal unit about certain songs I want at my funeral; he thinks that’s morbid, but I think it’s good to be prepared. I’m not dying or anything, don’t worry. But when the time comes, I know I’ll be listening in, I mean, I’m fairly certain, and I want control of the set list.

Won’t be weeping long.


I just realized I haven’t posted in a little while. I’m still feeling after-effects of the Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds show on Saturday. They did all the Big Hits, including this one. Powerful. Menacing. I needed this night out after weeks of work overload. My marbles are all scattered right now.

Oh the opening act, Barfight, no, Bananagirls? No. Shit, now I gotta look it up. Oh, Warpaint. Sorry, they were terrible. Really terrible. That’s my review. This is why I’m a dj and not a music writer.

Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds delivered – truly great show. Probably better than the last time I saw them (also at the State Theatre.) But what a weird crowd – were they all mostly Current people? I realize I’m old, from a lost, forgotten generation (I believe it’s the Blank Generation, and I can take it or leave it each time). But it’s Nick Cave’s generation at least. These little pecker heads with their little straw hats, polo shirts and cargo shorts sorta make me wanna puke. “I’m really torn because I bought these Nick Cave tickets long before I realized I’d be missing Rock the Garden…I’m really bummed,” this little shit sitting next to me was saying. Makes me want to react in a violent manner. What’s happening? What in the fuck is happening?



Thank you Ted from Rock ‘n’ Roll Freaks for letting me share this amazing list.

Conversation with Machinist Man – “What were you really listening to in 1967 –  you were 10 years old…?” Me: “Well, you know, The Monkees and stuff, but me and Bunny Mellish would go into her older brother Eddie’s room and listen to The Fugs and The Mothers of Invention and smoke his cigarettes.” “The Fugs? You were 10 and listening to The Fugs?” “Yeah, then he caught us one time and we got into a lot of trouble. He narced on us and everything.” “Well, that explains a lot,” he says.

What was that moment…


….that pivotal moment or concert that changed everything? When you fell in love with music? Some friends of mine and I were talking about that last night, and I was just drawing a blank. I mean, obviously, something happened to me and I was influenced by a lot of things in the late 60’s when I was a little kid in New Jersey and then being a teenager in Detroit in the 70’s. But it seems like people I know can speak to a show or record that informed them from that moment on. And I couldn’t think of anything.

Well, I just remembered it. Quite possibly I had trouble recalling it because I was 9 years old. I was laying in the back of my dad’s Ford Country Squire station wagon (with faux wood on the sides, of course.) I had this habit of putting my ear right on the speaker after begging my dad to tune in to WABC New York. River Deep Mountain High came on, and it blew my mind. Nothing was the same after that. Mind you, I had been listening to the Beatles, Rolling Stones and Monkees and I was wild about all that, but RDMH had something in it that sent a shiver down my spine, and I knew I’d be in love with music for the rest of my life.



My mom used to watch The Mike Douglas Show “religiously;” she thought he was “so handsome,” and “you know, I believe he’s also Catholic!!!” “But then he has “SUCH WEIRDOS” on his show, “I DON’T KNOW WHAT HE’S THINKING!!!” “That foul-mouthed Richard Pryor, and who is that freak with the Afro?” “And Zappa? Where is HE from?” “Don’t even get me started about Lennon – we should never have gotten you those Beatles records … you might have turned out normal.”

Thanks, mom, if you hadn’t gotten me those Beatles records, I might have turned out normal.