Disco:Very Does Dallas. No, Wait: San Francisco [Part 3]

The Long List of Artists Whose Music I Was Searching for at Amoeba Music on Haight Street, Thus Annoying the Counter Clerk Because the List Was So Fucking Long, But Also Annoying Me Because None of Their Albums Were in the Racks:

The Black Jaspers

Crookers

Kevin Dunn

Filmzenek Tarr Bela

Gay for Johnny Depp

Andrew Graham

High All the Time (Various Artists)

Hunx & His Punx

Mazing Vids

Moderne

Pretty & Nice

Reading Rainbow

Sonny & the Sunsets

Charanjit Singh

UV Race

White Fence

The Second Part of the Long List of Artists Whose Music I Was Searching for at Amoeba Music on Haight Street, Thus Annoying the Counter Clerk Because It Dawned On Her at Some Point That I Was Making Them All Up:

I Run, I Jump, I Skip, I Fall Down: Hello!

Click Your Heels, Scream "I'm Anglo!"

Almost There, Almost There--Oops! Wrong Turn

They're Dancing In Unison and I'm Drowning Beside Them

You Ate What???

Everybody Bends at the Knee

Reach Up! Reach Up! Give it Here!

Ow! I Stubbed My Toe! Ow!

My Womb Held Aloft

Him and Her and Me and Them and Us and He and She

Let's Look at the Sun and Go Blind (Now We Are Blind)

Invisible Sheets of Yesterday and Forever

Aching, Waiting, Hoping, Spinning, Spinning, Spinning

Plausorchiadidian

Sounds Like Ass

Disco:Very Does Dallas. No, Wait: San Francisco [Part 2]

Stalking Benjamin Bratt in the Haight Street Amoeba Music: A One-Act Play

Cast:
Benjamin Bratt as Himself
Disco:Very as Himself

Curtain rises on a busy day at Amoeba Music on Haight Street. Disco:Very, dressed in the youthful fashions of today, is in the "B" section of the CD racks, mystified as to why the goddamned store doesn't have any music by The Black Jaspers. At that very moment, Benjamin Bratt, star of both TV and talking pictures, enters the store, eventually inching his tall lithe frame down the aisle across from where Disco:Very is shopping.

Noboby has yet noticed Benjamin Bratt except Disco:Very--similar to the same way nobody but Disco:Very spied Michael Moore walking towards his gate at the Chicago Airport some years ago, and how could they miss him because that guy's as big as a trash barge? Does Disco:Very possess a sixth sense of some kind? An ESP which alerts him to the proximity of actors, musicians and entertainment personalities? Perhaps, upon Disco:Very's eventual demise, scientists ought to slice Disco:Very's brain into thin tissues so as to study and learn from what are surely remarkable and perhaps even revolutionary cerebral impulses.

Benjamin Bratt is dancing the dance upon which all celebrities embark: hoping to not be noticed while hoping to be noticed; pretending to be an Average Joe out on a shopping excursion while fully expecting that his many fans will gather around him, gawking and gushing about his filmic achievements. Because Disco:Very sniffs his nose at the types of films and TV series in which Mr. Bratt would appear, no praise will be forthcoming from the lofty blogger. Instead, he merely follows Mr. Bratt at a safe yet inquisitive distance.

What music will Benjamin Bratt be buying, in this enormous shop containing millions of CD's, records and tapes? The possibilities are as endless as one's tastes. Will Bratt pursue the extensive International section, concerning himself in particular with Native American recordings, thus showing an interest in his own proud ethnic heritage? Or will he instead skirt along the edge of the jazz aisle, purchasing a Verve reissue of musical renown? Perhaps Bratt will indulge in some extreme noise recordings and surprise us all by brandishing a recording of Sunn O))), or perhaps he's into the experimental creations of mathematically-inclined composer Iannis Xenakis?

No, Benjamin Bratt stays in the vicinity of the rock and pop aisle, picking through the racks labeled Fleetwood Mac.

Disco:Very, seeing this, shoots himself in the head.

[Curtain]

No posts for a short while as I will be in Los Angeles for the next 5 days. Let me know if you want me to buy you anything at Amoeba Music. Please note: I will not really be buying you anything at Amoeba Music.

Money Doesn't Grow On Trees--It Does, However, Tend to Blow Amongst Heavy Traffic on Sunset Boulevard at Opportune Moments

If you're the person in Los Angeles who lost that $100 bill I found lying in the street this past weekend, please write me immediately so I can thank you from the bottom of my heart. That green sure came in handy when Amoeba Records had that rare used version of Recombo DNA, the internet-only limited-edition 2-CD comp of outtakes and demos by robotic New Wave pioneers Devo. Can you imagine how your inability to keep track of your moolah has instantly enriched my life? Now I can listen to Sloppy (I Saw My Baby Gettin') (demo) and Girl U Want (demo alternate version) whenever I damn well please without ever having to resort to the shameful practice of illegal downloading. Thanks to your nimble wallet, my disposition is so sunny I even find myself listening to the tracks made during their later barely-interesting period following their surprising chart success. I hope to be in your area again in three weeks--do you think you can see to losing another $100 dollar bill during my upcoming visit? And a little closer to my hotel wouldn't hurt, either.

Poi Dog Pondering Have Left the Building--Will All of Their...HOLY SHIT, THEY'RE BACK! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! SOMEONE DUG THEM UP FROM THE GRAVE! AAUGH!

You are always greeted by a multitude of shocking experiences when shopping the mega-enormous Amoeba Records in Hollywood. To start, there is that final tally to your charge card. Second, you'll spot releases by bands whose break-up you had assumed was a done deal. [You mean to tell me the fucking reprehensible Poi Dog Pondering is still together and was somehow allowed to release a new fuddy-duddy hippy-dippy album???]

But the largest jolt to the system isn't even the myriad of celebs spotted as you traverse the densely-packed record aisles. No, the most jarring moment is when one of those celebrities (hello, Giovanni Ribisi, you dimwitted Scientology freak!) spies you placing a sub-par Vince Guaraldi disc into your shopping basket. "Silly Pre-Clear," he clucks in your direction. "Everyone knows that Guaraldi peaked with A Charlie Brown Christmas. Sure, the pleasant previously-unreleased outtake Nobody Else ascends somewhat close to the genius of the well-known Xmas soundtrack, but after that you are forced to endure the faux funky Woodstock's Dream and the dentist's office dullness of Never Again. Only when you audit yourself of past traumatic Body Thetans, as I have, can you attain my infinite peace and wisdom."

"No offense, Giovanni," you think to yourself while reading his mind (a gift from birth received without benefit of an E-Meter.) "But I saw you in SubUrbia and if that's Serenity of Being, I'll stick to being an aberration, thanks."

Absence Makes the World Go 'Round

[Click on image to make it legible.]

Call Home, William Hung: All Is Forgiven

Almost anything released by Romulan Records is worth hearing. They're one of the more prolific compilation labels seeking out vintage oddball recordings from the 1950's and '60's. Because this quasi-fake label keeps its identity hidden (for legal reasons--none of its copyrights are cleared), it's not always easy to find their records (except by mail order), so if you see one, my advice is to snatch it up immediately. This is what I did during my recent trip to LA when I found Girls In The Garage (Oriental Edition) in the used racks. I own a few of Romulan's cds in this Girls series but I'd never heard of this particular release, which focuses on Asian recordings. It's packed full of jaw-dropping versions of popular American/UK tunes of the day, of course, which almost makes me weep with glee. Does that make me a racist, just because I find pleasure in hearing foreign cultures attempting to perform music outside their borders? Am I a bad person for wanting to share Come Back When You Grow Up by Nancy Sit with the world? Is this just the She Bangs of its day? Perhaps I've been rationalizing my love of this tune for a different reason: when the title is being sung during the chorus, it sounds as if she's singing "Come back/When you grow old", which is a unique sentiment you don't hear very often. How many of us would love to be told by a potential mate that they'd rather be dating us when we're in our 60's or 70's instead of when we're young?

Now We Pause For An Apology. And A Rant. (And Another Rant.)

The reason I haven't added any posts in a while: A business trip to Los Angeles stalled my on-line actions for a few days (that was the apology). Not that it matters: judging by the amount of responses each posting gets (read: zero), my guess is that nobody is reading this at all and I'm simply blowing smoke rings up my own ass. ASS! Now that I have your attention, please be sure to check back sometime in the next 24 hours as I add heaping spoonfuls of music to this site, all of it purchased at my favorite (physical) record store in the world, Amoeba Records on Sunset Blvd. in LA. I say physical because their website offers no on-line sales and bites ass--ASS!--but entering the store itself is like you've died and gone to music collector heaven. My one complaint of Amoeba Records (the physical store) is that you can't have the staff open used cds for in-store play. I'm not sure why they've never offered this service--don't tell me it's a security issue because I've been to plenty of stores around the world that have set up used cd listening stations with affordable security measures in place. The closest Amoeba Records comes to allowing cds to be opened and played is a listening station with a 10,000 cd database, the type where you can scan the barcode to hear the album tracks. Sadly, most of the cds entered into the database are well-known artists such as Beck, The Decemberists or Iron & Wine--artists whose albums are easy to hear everywhere else (for instance, as streaming audio on their websites). Considering the millions of cds Amoeba has for sale, plugging them into the database would take years of non-stop effort, but shouldn't that be more of a reason to allow the customer to open and play used cds in-store? Why, oh why won't Amoeba Records listen to my precious feelings? Why won't they take my rants into consideration? Sigh...anyway, please check back in a few hours for the latest downloads I'll be offering.