All posts by Joseph

More than a few blocks from factory village

2000 Years to Christmas

You know what they say, man. Everyone as time went by got a little bit older and a little bit slower. Stay in the toaster long enough, and hell, you’re toast. Stick a fork in it. Insert your favorite over-the-hill cliche here.

Hey, lookit – I know I’ve been more reflective over the past year than in previous years. When your ass starts to get old, it spends more time looking back. (It can hardly do anything else, actually.) I’ve posted a few reflections on the bad old days. Spun a few yarns about scraping the bottom of the barrel of backwater live music. Hey, there’s always room for one more story, right? Maybe.

Hippy anniversary

It happens that this spring is the 35th anniversary of a little project that coincided with the birth of Big Green, back in the eighties. I’m thinking of this now not so much because of the anniversary, but because I’ve been digitizing a video of a 1987 gig I played with Big Green co-founder Ned Danison and Ned’s childhood friend, the late songwriter Dale Haskell.

Dale had recorded an album around that time, and we played a few gigs to promote it locally in the Albany, NY, area. It wasn’t a big production, of course – we were broke, and Dale didn’t have access to a proper studio, so he tracked the album on a cassette portastudio and ran the cassette copies of the album off manually. (We all did that shit back then, because … well, see the previous sentence.)

God save the queen

Ned and I were trying to find work for Big Green – unsuccessfully, of course. Dale had helped us out with some demo work, and we agreed to back him up on his project. He booked three dates at QE2 in Albany, a club that is now called the Fuse Box, I believe, housed in an ancient White Tower burger joint on Central Ave.

At one of those gigs, in April 1987, we opened for the Athens, GA art rock band Love Tractor. Our photographer friend Leif Zurmuhlen brought his VHS camcorder to the gig and taped our set. At some point over the last thirty years, Leif gave me the tape and it’s been sitting in my television cabinet for decades. Until last week, that is, when I transferred it to MP4.

Ned, me, and Dale

Achtung, baby

Sadly, Dale passed away last year after some troubled times. I had told him via Facebook that I had the tape sometime over the previous year, but didn’t have the means to transcribe it until recently, by which time he was gone. If I can get the audio to sound decent, I’ll drop it via the Big Green Youtube channel in the next few weeks. Promises, promises.

Kind of a kick seeing Ned and me playing together, frankly. Ned’s doubling on keys and lead guitar; I’m thumping on my Fender P-bass, wearing a white tee shirt with the word “ACHTUNG” in block letters across my scrawny chest. God, those days sucked. But they had their moments.

When war is always the answer

As I write this, we appear to be inching towards that thing we always say we don’t want but nearly always opt for. The difference this time is that we’re flirting with a conflict that, at minimum, will send the global economy into yet another tailspin, and, at maximum, will result in terminal nuclear conflict. Neither seems to me a good option.

I have written about this previously, of course – as has nearly everyone. My hope has been that we would begin to back away from the breach, but that hasn’t happened yet. This past week, French President Macron met with Putin and seemed to come away with assurances that the Russians wouldn’t escalate the situation. Somewhat encouraging, though it is a slender thread from which to dangle the fate of this insane world.

Mutually supporting motives

This threatened conflict has brought the art of Kremlinology back with a vengeance, which must please Putin no end. In truth, the practice never entirely went away. But now there’s something like a cottage industry in supposition about what’s going on between Vlad’s ears. I guess people have to keep themselves busy somehow as we wait for the world to explode like a firecracker.

One of the most informed discussions along these lines took place on Democracy Now! on Monday. The New Yorker’s Masha Gessen and Anatol Lieven of the Quincy Institute talked about the simmering conflict threatening to boil over. Lieven sees overriding considerations of national security interests in what Russia is doing; Gessen sees it more as an expression of Putin’s anxiety over his waning hold on leadership.

I actually think they’re both right – the two theories are not mutually exclusive. Putin is dead set against NATO membership for Ukraine, as I’m sure any Russian leader would be. He also likes to play to his base – basically that large population of Russians who want their country to be a world power and not be pushed around by the West.

Good memories for bad things

There’s no justification for military aggression, and I have never been a fan of Putin, as I’ve said many times. But the strongman leader thing is a direct outgrowth of the catastrophic collapse of the Soviet state back in the nineties. In America, people see this as a time of triumph and vindication, as well as a lot of back-slapping.

During the 1990s, while the U.S. was helping to midwife the new capitalist Russia, the country went through a Great Depression-like economic failure resulting in loss of income, pensions, and something like five million excess deaths. This remains a fresh memory in the minds of many Russians. Somewhat like the North Koreans, whose country was destroyed by U.S. munitions in the 1950s, they know the consequences of letting the West get the upper hand.

Looking for an off-ramp

As Americans, our problem is a simple one. We can’t stand to see other countries do with impunity what we ourselves have repeatedly done with impunity. When the Russians were using hysterical firepower in Syria, it was all over U.S. media. Now that our bombs are killing even more Yemenis, you barely hear about the place. After the invasions of Iraq and Afghanistan, what standing to we have to tell others to play nice?

That said, it seems only reasonable for us to make every effort to keep this conflict from happening. For the sake of the Ukrainians and Russians that could die as a result, it is in no way worth it to anyone.

luv u,

jp

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Another day, another blizzard.

2000 Years to Christmas

I know it’s not the 20th anniversary any more. Stop reminding me! We’re practically at the 23-year mark, for crying out loud. I’m just too damn lazy to change the promo. Mea culpa, okay? MEA CULPA, GODDAMMIT!

Whoops, sorry. Was a bit on edge just then. I was talking to our advertising manager, otherwise known as Marvin (my personal robot assistant). He keeps telling me that I left the 2000 Years To Christmas billboard up too long. The suggestion is ludicrous. Accurate, but ludicrous. I didn’t program him to tell me the truth. (To tell the truth, I actually didn’t program him at all.)

Incremental sales … without the increments

It actually doesn’t much matter whether or not we advertise, frankly. We don’t sell a lot of units, which may be a function of the fact that we don’t put out a lot of new material. I am being generous, of course – we haven’t put out a new album in nine freaking years. Where did that time go? Same place all time goes – into the hole, after the sun. (What does that mean? Well, I had an explanation, but I dropped that into the hole as well.)

Hey, it’s not like you can’t find our albums on the internets. They’re out there. If you look around for 2000 Years To Christmas, you’ll find it in a boatload of places, including many I’ve never heard of, and some destinations I’ve never been to. In fact, that album is on so many outlets, you’d think we would be selling them left and right just by osmosis … or inertia … or some other physical principle. You know what I mean – you toss your album out into the street, and eventually someone will come by and pick it up. (We’re still eagerly awaiting that day.)

With an effing vengeance

It’s not like we couldn’t use a little extra scratch. Winter is descending upon us like a frozen shroud. Or a great frozen wall, dropped by the ice gods. Or some other metaphor I can’t think of because I’m too damn cold. What the hell, do you want me to draw you a picture? There’s white stuff falling from the clouds. It’s snowing in New York. Hal-lah-freaking-loo-yah.

Of course, the mansized tuber is taking necessary precautions, moving in from the courtyard and squeezing into a planter for the duration. Marvin is avoiding the out of doors, which is a little hard to do, as we are officially out of doors. (We broke one last week, and we don’t have any spares.) The rest of us are just huddling around stoves and registers, waiting for it all to be over. So, in other words, a really productive week around the abandoned hammer mill.

Nice place to spend the winter.

Modern insensibilities

One thing I hadn’t counted on with the onset of global warming is the degree to which people’s expectations about winter weather would dramatically change. There’s going to be 10 to 16 inches of new snow on the ground when this week is over, and they talk about it like it’s a natural disaster. Back twenty years ago or so, we used to call that Tuesday. Or Tuesday and Friday.

Hell, we had a method back then for telling how bad the snowstorm is. It was called looking out the window. In other words, if you could look out the window and see something, anything other than white, it wasn’t that bad. The whole mill was like one of those measuring sticks. If the drifts meet the top of the second story windows, well …. it will have snowed a bit.

There’s a little tip to take home with you – no charge.