Whatever World War II movie is in the bin next to the cash register at Duane Reade- Moving back into his rec room
- New Craftsman ratchet set, with a carrying case that stacks perfectly on top of last year’s ratchet set
- Watching a ballgame on the couch together in complete silence
- A teddy bear wearing a tie for some fucking reason
- Four pounds of bacon
- Poem about how his emotional distance made you afraid to trust, delivered to freshman composition class
- The biggest, golf-iest coffee table book on the Barnes and Noble clearance stack
- Dinner out at “the good Applebees” (the one not in the mall)
- A Barbie because Barbies are pretty mommy we should get one
- Biting tongue until it bleeds when asked “Is that what you’re wearing?”
- Insulin
- Lengthy, unprompted dinnertime lecture on the superiority of Scandanavian-style socialism
- The highest-priced cologne Caldors has to offer, preferably with a cowboy-hat top
- Some god damn peace and quiet, for Christ’s sake
- Tickets to the local amphitheater to see that weird old singer he likes; you know, the one with the beard?
- Allowing him to change the oil on your car before that shitbox of yours breaks down in the ghetto or something, god forbid
- Notarized DNR order
All posts by Matthew Callan
Music Is None of My Business
Sadly, music has fallen off my radar in a big way. I used to be on top of things when it came to music: the bands, the labels, who was playing with who now and where. Parenthood went a long way to sapping my energy for keeping up with such stuff, even if the interwebs makes it easier than ever to do so. I will latch onto someone new every once in a blue moon, and I try not to be one of those people whose musical tastes stalled at age 30. Still, when I put on my iPod, I am much more likely listening to a comedy podcast than music. Sigh.
I was into music for so long (and also writing about it on occasion) that I still get press releases or blasts from someone looking to promote their latest find, someone who has no idea they’re barking up the wrong tree. I rarely read them, because I fear they’ll just be depressing: wide-eyed 20 year olds conquering the world, listing as influences other bands I’m already too old/unhip to have heard of. Double sigh.
But since I have a foundation in this world, creaky though it might be, I was quite amused when a tweet from @samirmathur alerted me to a web site called Shut Up, Bands. Created by a former British gig promoter (I mean he was formerly a gig promoter; he remains British, I assume), it gathers the most inane email blasts and press kit blather from a wide array of bands.
Is this shooting fish in a barrel, making fun of presumably young and inexperienced musicians? Yes, but it’s also really friggin funny. It’s also coming from a place of exasperation, from someone who’s so inundated with such garbage that they have to lash out somehow. Some are presented with extensive, MST3K-ish riffing. Some are presented without comment. Others are summed up with one neat phrase, for no more words are necessary.
(I would have just linked to this entry, but Shut Up, Bands has kind of an odd permalink structure, so here we are.)
In a similar vein, I’d also recommend following the tweeting of @Folder_Rock, whose feed is exclusively comprised of press kit excerpts like, “Their debut EP is an intense, warm guitar riff dick slap coupled with thick syrup bass lines…” This came my way thanks to WFMU’s Evan “Funk” Davies, and I am very glad it did. Otherwise, I never would have read such gems as, “Their slap-happy bass and slyly sweet vocals embrace both death metal and Western swing.”
YouTube Comment of the Week: McDonalds Daydream
I’ve posted many videos to YouTube over the years. Most of them are commercials from old VHS tapes. Why do I feel compelled to do this? No idea. It’s just my nature You might as well ask the salmon why he swims upstream, or Rudy Giuliani why he says “9/11” all the time.
I have email alerts setup to inform me whenever someone comments on one of my videos. Because I don’t know if you noticed, but YouTube comments have a tendency to be hideously wrong. Racist, sexist, homophobic–you name the wrongness, they’ll invoke it. I’d really rather not have something I posted as a lark be polluted by sub-literate hate. At least learn some proper spelling and grammar, hate-mongers!
Amazingly, very, very few of my videos have gotten such comments. But they have gotten a few that are doozies for other reasons. So I thought I’d share some, without editorializing, with the public. The inaugural edition comes courtesy of an old McDonald’s commercial crica 1986 called “Daydream.” (All 1980s McDonald’s ads had titles and seems about 11 months long compared to their modern counterparts.) Comment appears below the video.
