mp3j overload.
I feel like I've stumbled into the newest hybrid, the blog mash-up, a combination listening post / fanzine / music criticism / record store. Music promoted by fans, for fans. The 20th Century music business should only be grateful for this flow of information. Sure, the profit margins are down, people are buying less music at traditional retail, but these sites are great promotion for artists. Some sites to get you started.

C'est sexy, n'est-ce pas?
We've all seen the original image, which is horrifying; turned into modern art, is it too soon? I don't have an iPod, yet.

Saatchi disaster
The world has lost several key contemporary art pieces, as reported by BBC. I was fortunate to have seen many of these pieces in Berlin, at Hamburger Bahnhof, as part of the "Sensation" exhibit.

Mr. IML 2004
Congratulations to my bud Jason, who, this past weekend, was named Mr. IML 2004! Jason is one of the sweetest guys I've had the pleasure to meet in DC, and I am thrilled for him.

Ourselves, our health, and each other.
We spend so much time improving our bodies, our minds, our health. Why, then, would one compromise the body, knowing these health issues are (again) on the rise? It's a touchy issue, I realize how complex and personal these decisions are to some people. We're adults, we negotiate, and we act accordingly. These health concerns have been in the gay news for the past month, and this one is particularly unnerving. This information still applies.

Outside my back door, I see the neighbor's black cat toting a dead baby rat. Perched on the fence, a squirrel watches. I move to the front of the house. The parade of ambulances that typically convene in front of the senior citizens' apartment building appears to be on break.

It's a story, it's a meme, it's abuzz, it's Rance! Wish I was more up on pop culture, I live in a vacuum.

Here's an emotional story from my buddy Jim Walsh, who interviewed me for the NARAS event in Minneapolis last week. I first met Karl, Dave, and Dan in 1981, worked along side them for years, and the last time we played together was in Long Beach, CA, on June 8, 2002. We have a long history together. Hang in there, Karl, you're a trooper.

While on the subject of Minneapolis, my friend Jason sent me a link to this interview with my pal Conrad, who stage manages the big room at First Avenue. There's some great stories there, including the night I did two acoustic shows, and lost my voice for the second one - improvise!

If you're in Manhattan tonight, enjoy this twice-yearly phenomena. Modern Stonehenge indeed.

Enjoy the weekend, travel safe, and do NOT drink and drive!

It hasn't been a good week for the circus. First, the horrible fall in St. Paul, now the arrest of Spanky the Clown. The 23-year-old Ringling Bros. performer, also known as Thomas Riccio, was just nabbed on kiddie porn charges. Arrested last week when the circus pulled into Fayetteville, North Carolina, Riccio was charged with ten felony counts after a search of his computer turned up images of young children participating in lewd acts.

Waremouse made reference to the May 26 Gore speech at NYU. I have had no luck with it yet, but a video feed might be accessed here, in the "Latest Video" section.

A good day in the studio yesterday; Rich and I did some mix cleanup on a few of the tracks for the upcoming Blowoff artist CD. If I had either of these setups, I could have listened to the mixes on the soggy ride home.

The cicadas are particularly loud at the intersection of Piney Branch and Blair.

I know the real estate prices are out of control in my neighborhood, but Northern Virginia? Stay on the north side of the river, cubby, we ain't so welcome over there.

While on the elliptical trainer last week, I looked up at one of TV monitors to see a music video; the scenery looked very familiar, as in my old neighborhood in Manhattan. Turns out to be the new Beastie Boys video, Ch-Check It Out. I think one of the boys lived within that little 6 block pocket of lower Manhattan, and it still hasn't been powerwashed. They also feature the star restaurant of the 'hood, Sosa Borella - the location of my 40th birthday party, as well as many a tonnara sandwich for lunch. They also serve Coke in the old-fashioned small swirl glass bottles.

Continuing on the subject of New York City, I recently became aware of a new blog named Joe.My.God.. In record time, Joe has become one of my "must read daily" blogs, hence the addition to my BlogBuds lineup. Read him. He is good. Welcome, friend.

On May 24, 2004, at 3:25 PM, A. wrote:

bob,
 
well... judging from the tone of my last e-mail, and the thoughts you posted on DC today, i suppose i might have been mistaken about your loving washington.  no, it's no NYC, (where all of my mother's family is from), but i like to think it's a cool place nonetheless.

Wow, did it come off like that? Hmmm, certainly didn't mean for that to be the case. I like DC quite a bit, it's simply not as stimulating or overwhelming, on a daily basis, as NYC. Didn't expect it to be when I moved here. I hoped it would read more as a commentary on how fabulous the night was.

Sixteen months ago, when Rich and I took a shot at starting up a new club event, we had no idea it would develop into what took place last Saturday. The room was packed, the vibe was perfect, the crowd was grooving, there was a line around the block. I think we reached our first peak this past weekend; when I say we, I mean everyone who's been part of the process. All we do is show up with a bag full of CDs, headphones, breath mints, and some Blowoff T-shirts that cost 5 bucks. I bring the songs that encapsulate my week, assembled in a rough order that I hope will keep people engaged and moving in time.

The years I lived in Manhattan, I always felt blessed. On Murray Street, waking up at 4 AM to hear trucks backing up to the loading dock across the street, loading up the morning newspapers. On East 48th Street, walking to the dog run on the East River, to write, or meet my homeless friend from Israel for a cup of coffee. On Washington Street, watching sunset after sunset over the Hudson River from my living room windows, never once the same. A life on foot, mile after mile, step after step, every breath, every moment realizing I was starring in the movie of my life.

A feeling I lost two years ago when I moved to DC. A feeling that, for a moment, was recaptured last Saturday night. Thank you.

We'll do it again in three weeks.

Five years ago yesterday, (then) WWF professional wrestler Owen Hart fell over 50 feet to his death, in front of over 16,000 fans at Kemper Arena in Kansas City, but off camera from hundreds of thousands of fans watching the event on pay-per-view. The show continued that evening, creating a firestorm of controversy.

On October 4 of that year, I was working for World Championship Wrestling, and we were presenting an event, broadcast live on TNT, in the same building. A tribute match was held between Owen's brother Bret Hart, and one of Owen's closest friends, Chris Benoit. It was a very emotional evening for all of us involved with the show.

Last night, I noticed this story on Drudge. The similarities are astounding. The show goes on.

Tomorrow night is the season finale for Blowoff. It will be a bittersweet night for me. Blowoff has been an important part of my social life for months, sharing music and camaraderie with friends and acquaintances. As summer approaches, and most DC residents head to the ocean or mountains, we've decided to curtail our regular weekly schedule. We may be spinning on Capital Pride weekend (June 12 would be the Saturday night), but nothing is certain as of today. I would highly suggest that you sign up for the e-mailing list.

Metro Weekly is speculating, but I can say with some certainty that I will be keeping my pants ON this weekend. I know Rich is definitely not planning on dropping trou.

Here's a good online resource for shuffling up your workout routine. All muscle groups are covered, with multiple exercises for your pleasure, pain, and suffering.

Have a great weekend!

They make me laugh, they teach me how to write, they make me feel sexy, they make me feel alive. They lead by example. You need to read them every day. And, of course, this guy.

Minneapolis, as usual, was an interesting time. The town has so many memories for me; they meet me everywhere I turn. They meet me at the airport, not dressed in the guise of the livery car driver who once drove Sammy Hagar, but as the portal from which I departed, as a young man, for my first trip outside North America. They meet me on Minnehaha Avenue, where I saw the sky turn green, sensed the danger, heard the siren, and minutes later, emerged from the basement to see trees and roofs strewn across the landscape. The smell of utter calm after destruction, a mixture of pure oxygen and semen, the brain taste of aluminum after crystal meth and Valium. They meet me at the club, my star still intact after so many years of "progress" - there are more empty Starbucks in downtown Minneapolis than anywhere else I've been. The downtown that once seemed seedy, dangerous, exciting, the place I learned to be an adult, has been reduced to Chevy's and Borders and Rock'n'Bowl, the oversized Stratocaster neck rising from the pavement across 7th Street, mocking me, attempting to siphon off the blood and sweat and tears and laughter that all of us gave to make that bus depot the prettiest cathedral in the world. Fuck you, Block E. (I boil at the first line of Paragraph 2.) Fuck you, "progress".

The Q & A session with Jim Walsh went really well. We talked for a while, then fielded questions from audience members. The performance that followed was a good one; I hadn't played a full set for 3 months, and unlike the last show, I walked off the stage looking forward to the next one.

While in Minneapolis, I was terribly shocked and saddened to hear of the passing of a close friend from my college days. This has taught me a valuable lesson about losing contact with important people in my life. I have some catching up to do.

It's a heterosexual male's worst nightmare: turning gay overnight. Never one to pander, FOX used that line to pitch for its newest reality special, Seriously, Dude, I'm Gay. Although the network has since apologized for its "failed attempt at humor [that] was ill-chosen and inappropriate," that's essentially the premise of the series. Read more here and here.

JC Auto goes public, and Jesus Christ is here. (Courtesy Courtney and Shawn)

Yet another online quiz. Found this through Logan Circle.

You are a GRAMMAR GOD!

Minneapolis tomorrow.

Next Tuesday, I'll be appearing at First Avenue in Minneapolis. I've spent an awful lot of my adult life in that room. When most people hear First Avenue, they think of "the Purple Rain club". I remember how the filming for that movie occupied months of the calendar, but my memories of that room run much deeper. I spent an awful lot of time in that room, that old bus depot, that shared gathering place for the bands from both South (Replacements, Soul Asylum, Husker Du) and North (Prince, The Time, Terry and Jimmy, Alexander O'Neal).

Tuesday night, I'll be doing a "Q & A Session", presented in conjunction with NARAS, followed by an acoustic / electric performance. I've never done this sort of thing before, so it should prove to be interesting.

If you didn't see Rich's commentary regarding the photos coming out of Iraq, look now. The first time I saw that photo, I thought to myself: in 2000 years, when they uncover the hieroglyphics of our current civilization, I fear this image will represent the beginning of the end. Don't mean to get all dark on you, but it's fucked beyond belief. Pass the heat.

War and pestilence notwithstanding, I feel great. Have a good weekend!

I've been on a writing jag lately, 4 new songs completed in the past 2 weeks. I know, not that spectacular compared to my output of years past, but all 4 of them are good, and there's about 10 others kicking around from the past 2 months that show promise. Two of them, "Overload" and "Tag It", will round out the Blowoff record. Rich and I have finished recording and writing, and are tightening up the mixes over the next few weeks. Now comes the difficult part: finding a way to get the music into the ears and hands of the listeners. This business is so messed up. The other two songs of note, "Composure" and "Comfortable Skin", will likely be additions to the never-ending saga that is my "Body Of Song" record. Add in "Paralyzed" and "2002", as well as the extemporaneous pieces Brendan Canty and I recorded this March, and it now appears this record has generally been re-written since the initial sessions of May - June 2002. When will I be happy with the results? Add in tons of LoudBomb vs. Various Artists, and lots of new LoudBomb grooves, it's been a more productive year than I thought. It's that damn problem of getting the work heard and seen. I'm not so Clear Channel friendly, I suppose.

One of my favorite sites at the moment is Fluxblog, an mp3 magazine of sorts. Two new songs every weekday, with a surprisingly high hit / miss ratio. I think this site, and others like it, are the beginning of a new type of narrowcasting, niche marketing, what have you; unlike the bloated corporate distribution network, these are quick, efficient, and, most importantly, run by people who love music for the right reasons. Let's enjoy this new format before the labels start offering payola to bloggers.

It may seem tragically ironic that the name most closely associated with the destruction of New York's World Trade Center may soon be associated with the construction of the world's tallest building.

Here's something to do this summer, if you're in the upper Midwest. I'm genuinely touched by this, and as a fellow scooter rider, might try to make the ride - but I'll need a 150cc loaner. I know the Bad Boy could make it from DC to MPLS, but maybe not the old boy who rides it!

Feeling healthy is the key to good living. Stating the obvious, in case anyone needed reminding.

Last Thursday was the turning point for me, finally feeling as if whatever crud had been plaguing me all Spring had disappeared. I don't think anyone enjoys being sick, and I've dealt with lots of illness over the past 25 years. It's one of the occupational hazards of a lifestyle that includes erratic hours, less than healthy eating, lots of air and road travel, shaking dozens of strangers' hands while tired and sweaty, working in smoky rooms, you get the drift. It takes a lot to take me down, or to get me to the doctor, and this one did it. I'm completely fine, it was a passing virus that was compounded by the worst allergies I've ever had in my life. Add on some possible muscle tears from working out too hard (still in the process of getting that looked at), and a vivid imagination - well, it was time to get a checkup. Everything is fine. Thanks to my pals for the well wishes, and for being patient while I retreated to the healing state.

So: of course, feeling healthy, what do I do on Thursday night? Stay out late in a smoky room full of strangers! One of my dearest friends contacted me earlier in the day, we hadn't spent any time together all month, so I ventured down to the Green Lantern for a social night. Said friend and I ended up commiserating until 1 AM, comparing notes about the never-ending nature of the changes in life, and how we prepare and deal with them. I know, not the lightest conversation for shirtless night, but sometimes, talking is better than groping. Or, at least, more appropriate.

Friday, another light workout, and lots of studio work, prepping a couple new compositions for Saturday night. Plenty of outdoor time, the weather has been incredible the last few days. A late night walk through the neighborhood, lots of people out and about, a good day.

Saturday, back to the gym, and then spent a good part of the afternoon catching up with friends, enjoying the sun and scenery of the Circle. Ran into lots of pals, trying to adjust to iced decaf drinks (pretty watery), evening out the farmer tan. More work, prep the sets, and off to the club for Blowoff. Wow - what a fun night! Rich was in good spirits, considering the trials he endured through the week. Lots of new faces, familiar faces (including Waremouse and Clickboo), plenty of fun was to be had. I haven't danced that much in years; June of 1989 at Mars in NYC would still be my crowning disco achievement, but Saturday night was close. Blowoff is off the hook these final days, as we get ready to take the summer off. The final event is Saturday, May 22. We're planning some surprises for the night.

Sunday, running on very little sleep, back to the gym, brunch with a buddy, and again to the Circle to even that tan out some more in the 90+ degree heat. I don't think I had a shirt on more than a few hours all weekend. GRRRR, felt great to bask in the sun. I am golden.

Kudos to my friend Kenn, whose work I linked to earlier this week (the guy with the Bob T-shirt, in the chair). Here's an interview, where he explains his work. If you're a geek, you've already bought his work without knowing it. His art is in your house right now, on a coffee table or maybe in the bathroom. Every month, half a million readers inadvertently ogle the latest from this prolific Canadian artist, without even knowing his name.

I often wonder how I would fare in the real work world. Here's a job that caught my friend Paul's eye, maybe I'll apply for it as well. Hmmm, well, maybe not right now.

This story is sort of old (as in days, not tired), but I found something odd about it. Man, what is it with the rock stars? It's a parody or something, right?

(ADULT CONTENT) I'm always fascinated with the vernacular of subculture. Carnival languages, secret symbols, etc.; now, here's the straight porn world glossary.

I am finally feeling better. FYI: My doctor's office plays classic disco music, it's awesome. But, I'm not so sure about the no caffeine trip. I'm sleepy all the time. I'll give it another week or so. Gotta motor.

If you're cruising Eighth Avenue in Chelsea, Santa Monica Boulevard in West Hollywood, Halsted Street in Chicago, or 17th Street in DC, you'd better be watching out for the Top Gay Luxury SUV. Infiniti imagines a bionic cheetah when conceiving the FX. I imagine cheetahs conceiving when I'm sleeping.

And if your license has been revoked, you can always go toothing. It's big in London. Pass the vinegar, luv.

I saw this ad (click the icon) on TV last weekend, and was left asking myself, OK, how are those three guys going to be any better looking with full heads of hair? If I were them, I'd keep it a little shorter, and they'd have no shortage of friends.

Another addition to the Blog Buds column: Margaret Cho. I'd been to her site before, but I guess it didn't completely register with me until after meeting her last week. Very touching words and thoughts from a prolific and pure soul. Rock on.

A quick plug for my friend Kenn in NYC. He's a sweet guy, and I miss him when I think about him. Just like the City in which he resides. And, while I'm riffing on home, this song is the background noise that keeps the blood flowing.

Lastly, another friend named Kenn, this time in lovely Vancouver, BC, sends along his image of the week, check out the brown T-shirt!

The past week saw the passing of two great writers.

Hubert Selby Jr., the Brooklyn-born ex-merchant mariner who turned to drugs and to writing after cheating death and created a lasting vision of urban hell in his novel "Last Exit to Brooklyn," died April 26 at his home in Los Angeles. He was 75. Here's how he explained himself in 1999.

Thom Gunn, who died last Sunday aged 74, wrote some of the best and most elegant poetry of his times; his early work shows the influence of Donne and Herbert, and he never lost their tightness of thought and structure, although from the 1960s he also came under the influence of mescaline, lysergic acid and Allen Ginsberg. Stephen Trask was the person who introduced me to Mr. Gunn's work; he gave me a copy of Boss Cupid, and I still enjoy the words to this day.

Emulating Apple Computer's Aqua Mac OS X is an engaging hobby for a significant number of Windows XP users. A recently released theme for XP that looks like the Jaguar iteration of OS X was downloaded 50,000 times. Read more about this PC facelifting fetish.

Ray Johnson was a natural collagist, one of whose principal activities is bringing disparate entities into conjunction. His collages, especially those made after his period as an American Abstract Artist, have been intermittently exhibited and reproduced in books, catalogs, and magazines. The mid-fifties collages, which incorporate printed images of Elvis Presley and James Dean, are slowly entering the history books, usually as components of the early history of pop art. Here's some information on the man they call "the father of mail art".

Flavorpill is an e-mail magazine covering a handpicked selection of music, art, and cultural events — delivered each Tuesday afternoon. Subscription is free, and all listings are pure editorial, written by local flavorpill writers. Pick from four major cities: NYC, LA, SF, London.