Month: March 2004

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Ask Crutchy McGee, Trotskyite relationship advice from Chris Funk, lap slide guitarist for The Decemberists.
Dear Crutchy,
You see, I got up the guts to ask a fellow student for her email after we sat through my testimony against trustee pay raises for my schools admins. Turns out, she friendsters me before I get to write. We then email each other for five days straight, and we have an intense study dinner over rice and beans and Das Capital. After a week, she mentions a boyfriend, yet her friendster testimonial makes passing mention of “an open relationship.” I don’t want to mess with the budding friendship, but, she emails me everyday, with like ‘where are you, I want to procrastinate.’ How do I proceed? She goes to Chiapas on Monday and the time is nigh, and she is so delectably revolutionary.
Reticent in Revolutionville
Bonus Chris Funk knowledge: Along with playing tasteful slide guitar in the neo-Victorian Decemberists, Chris manages underground hip-hop acts like Lyrics Born and the Coup. I’m having trouble imagining two less similar musical philosophies than those of the Decemberists and the Coup. (Although actually they both have a sort of Marxist bent.)

Two of my primary interests, together at last: Give your Mac to a Zambian school.

I had to go pick up a package at DHL last night. At the front counter were a stack of blank job applications for potential employees to fill out. Across the form’s top were these words:
“The Company does not discriminate in hiring or employment on the basis of race, color, religious creed, national origin, sex or ancestry; nor on the basis of age against persons whose ages are 40 or above…”
I love that! We won’t discriminate against you — as long as you’re over 40? 39-year-olds — you’re screwed!
I know, I know, age discrimination in the workplace is primarily a matter of shuffling off old people. But if you’re not going to discriminate on the basis of age, how can you get away with discriminating on the basis of age in your own non-discrimination policy?
“We won’t discriminate on the basis of religion — unless you’re one of them damned Unitarians! We hate Unitarians!” “We won’t discriminate on the basis of national origin — except for Belgians! Belgians can kiss our ass!”

Best Savage Love column ever. I’ll never look at a parakeet the same way again.

Tom Corvin has had quite a life: playing in March Madness, cofounding Social Distortion, “spiritual probation” at Bob Jones (!), and now a mild-mannered TV reporter. Seems like a cool guy.

Well, I’m back. I think I had more fun at this year’s SXSW than at the last two. That probably derives from the fact that I know everybody by now and don’t have to play the awkward introductions game any more. It was wonderful seeing everyone again, even if it means being photographed far too often (evidence: me with my coat on inside out, me after running through a downpour.)
I’d say something like “more great SXSW-related posts to come!” — but I’ve said that the last two years and didn’t really follow through. Not sure this year’ll be any different.
Anyway, I was so tired on the drive back to Dallas Tuesday afternoon that I pulled over for fear I would fall asleep at the wheel. (SXSW is a full-body workout, let me tell you. My liver got a good workout, at least.) I ended up napping for 40 minutes in a Shell station parking lot north of Waco. I probably would have gone longer had a nice trucker not knocked on my window and asked if I needed any help.
But would I let mere exhaustion stop me from enjoying the rock and roll music? No, my friends, no! Tuesday night meant schlepping up to Denton to see The Decemberists.
One thing I miss about the demise of the CD Mix of the Month Club is my lost ability to proselytize for my favorite bands. And I’m not sure there’s a band I’ve listened to more in the last six months than the Decemberists. If I’d remembered to name a crabwalk.com Album of the Year for 2003, Castaways and Cutouts was the likely winner. (Ignore, for a moment, the fact that it was originally released in 2002.) The followup, Her Majesty The Decemberists, wouldn’t be far behind. As I put it back in September: “Highly recommended, particularly if you’ve ever found yourself thinking, ‘Wow, if only Belle & Sebastian had a nautical/Dickensian thing going on and had Eef Barzelay singing lead!'”
Anyway, they were terrific live — a bit more earnest then I’d suspected, but instrumentally strong and quite the rockers at times. They played their new EP The Tain in its entirety (that would be their 18-minute, five-movement interpretation of 8th-century Celtic mythology), and drummer Rachel Blumberg proved to be an able spot vocalist. (One other note: lead singer Colin Meloy, while a talented singer, songwriter, and bandleader, is perhaps the world’s most silly-looking drummer. He switched back to the kit for one Tain movement. Dude looked like a rusted toy soldier come to awkward life.)
Plus the openers — Scots Clearlake and Oregon jokester Tom Heinl — were both great. An excellent show, all around.
Decemberists trivia: Their song “Billy Liar” is based on the 1963 Julie Christie film of the same name.
Then last night came the followup, long-time favorites Calexico. I missed the first opener (Earlimart) but did get there in time for The Sleepy Jackson. They were awful — big, dumb rock unredeemed by the slightest charm. Not to mention ear-piercingly LOUD — I could feel individual hairs being shaken loose from my scalp by the sheer force of the sound.
Luckily, Calexico came through in top form. They played less of their quiet stuff than normal, but the louder, more mariachi-influenced songs were terrificly buoyant. John Contreras (of Calexico fellow travellers Mariachi Luz de Luna) guested on a few songs, and lead singer Joey Burns was his usual bon vivant self. (His raw animal magnetism was such that one of my companions — a woman whose taste in men runs almost exclusively to Latinos — was moved to say: “Wow, even I’d date him.” Of course, at night’s end, she ended up flirting not with Joey but instead with Calexico’s one Hispanic member, Jacob Valenzuela.) Truly one of the finer shows I’ve seen in a long while.

Best press release headline of the day: Bronx School Wins Visit From Humanoid Robot.

Travis Morrison is pissed that the Vines appear to have stolen his video. I doubt it’s legally actionable, but he does sort of have a point: the Dismemberment Plan original, the Vines copy.
I say this as someone who tries my best to musically all-embracing, someone who can find much to like in even the most commercial music: The Vines suck ass. So much vacant posturing, so little talent. Just watch that video and tell me you don’t have the urge to kick the lead singer’s ass.
I’m going to do a quickie TXCN appearance, then I’m off to Austin. If all goes according to plan, I’ll have a long (and pretty interesting) story on Sunday’s front page, so watch for it.

It’s that time of year again. I’ll be leaving tomorrow for SXSW Interactive in Austin. (Or, as the cool kids call it, South By.) If all goes well (read: if I can finish these two stories in time), I’ll be there in time to break bread with Brad. From there, the fun doesn’t stop until I head back to Dallas Tuesday afternoon.
If by chance you’re a SXSW-attending crabwalk.com reader I haven’t yet met, please track me down and say hello.
If anyone needs to reach me to propose particular Austin galavanting, the identification code for my cellular telephone unit is 214-914-9998.