See This.
Pearl Jam Twenty from Pearl Jam on Vimeo.
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Spar Power
Circle of Fits continues to look for new writers, music based pundits and purveyors. Our first submission actually comes from a friend I've had for many years, Mr. Glenn Hawley. Glenn has been ahead of the curve since the mid 80s. I remember multiple suburban bedroom walls of LPs and several long residences at some of the best record stores in existence. Glenn's dues are paid in full. And he remains well- versed in all things music and movies to this day.
Glenn doesn't get Led Zeppelin. He never did. I do. I really do. Me and Zoso are, like BFFs. So we're going to spar a little with much love and respect. Volley some barbs back and forth, so to speak. Be nice to Glenn, in a Circle of Fits sort of way, cuz he knows more than you do.
Here is his essay.
Glenn doesn't get Led Zeppelin. He never did. I do. I really do. Me and Zoso are, like BFFs. So we're going to spar a little with much love and respect. Volley some barbs back and forth, so to speak. Be nice to Glenn, in a Circle of Fits sort of way, cuz he knows more than you do.
Here is his essay.
Ever
Since I was a Rockin' Kid, I've Been Constantly been told What to like ( &
what NOT to like) This became my Nature to "trust my Own ears." This Also became my Gospel to spread the word
about Everyone doing & being able to do
just that! A mantra of Free
thoughts, Musical Thoughts, It has Served me well, all these years. But, for
years, certain artists, have always presented certain mysteries, to me. Puzzled
about their popularity or why I resisted them, even when the Music is
definitely there. We can't like Everything, But why is the Bad stuff So BAD? or
Good stuff Ruined by a Blind acceptance.
I grew up in Upstate, Suburban NY,
so 70's rock was accessible & for the most part "acceptable" to
me. It was constantly being Hammered into my head that i HAD to like certain
Artists/Groups. Sometimes so much that the artists are Just Lost to me forever,
with no real sense of "loss". Yet still, some "broke on
through" & are now Favorites. Some which i now need to almost defend
their sheer undeniable Incredibleness (The Doors, The Who…) Why do I set up
theses walls? Where did all this start??
The First was the Grandpappy's of
BIG 70's Rock: Led Zeppelin. Over & over I was told this was The Band, The Group.
I was some Loser for Never getting into them. All mostly from being told I Had
to get into them, Had to Love them! Fans can Ruin a Band faster than some Smack
filled train ride to hell! Check the Cure, U2, REM, The Beatles…. Robert
Plant's shrill voice grated on my nerves Anytime I heard it, coupled with
seeing every stoner wearing a LZ t-shirt. Never wanted to be in that Gang! Talk
about their GREATness of Musicianship & Power to move the decade
Forward> (this was the 80's after all)!
Funny, a few things about Zeppelin I
can't get enough of! I love to Read about them! Their Touring adventures as The
BIGGEST band in the World. Tales of Devil Worshipping & The Black
Arts. Landsharks & Other Fish Tales,
Dirty Deals involving their Fat, Evil Ooozing, Manager the Late Peter Green.
Their Own Charted Flying Party Bus, Teenage Groupies (i'm talking Real
teenagers, like 13 & 14)! Intake of Every illicit substance available,
which culminated in the Death of their drummer John Bonham & the demise of
the Band. I'll Always have a Visual of Bonham riding that tractor, in the Song
Remains The same (sound Off) Weren't you listening?? I hate the music!
Jimmy Page's 50/60's studio work as
a Hired gun, & with the Yardbirds, supplies my intact of his Genius. He IS
talented! John Paul Jones, just seems a big Crybaby these days, But He went Toe
to Toe with Diamanda Galas, in the Studio for an Album, so he Must have Balls
(& ears of Steel)
Will I ever wake upon tomorrow morn
to the Opening bars of Kashmir or Stairway to Heaven?? Changing my Life
Forever? Doubt it! But I always know When its Time to Get The Led out on Any
Classic radio station, I Can get a half hour
Break from them playing the Only 3 songs from the Doors or The Who, that
they have in Constant rotation! Deep
Cuts! Deep Cuts!!! Or a Silent Lunch time!
I get Why They are Popular! Tight,
Big, Mythological Sounds, But it seems more an Empty Given to Young Rockers
these days. Not to be Discovered, but to be Simply Adopted. No Mess, No Fuss.
Doesn't it Dilute their, so called, Power of Creativity? Dilute the Evil, of
the Deal with The Devil Peter Green made for their successes?? I'd rather be a
Dirty boy Rockin' with the Bad stuff. That surely brings me Closer to Jimmy
Page, without the Track Marks!
I gotta Trust my Old Ears of Many
years, sticking to my Guns. And to not lose my Freedom to be My Own Man. Flying
around in my OWN imaginary Flying Tour Bus! Music will be Lost & Found,
Because The Hits Abound, But Lets Talk it out & Let me Prove you Wrong!
Friday, July 29, 2011
Head In the Cans, Head in the Clouds
"Cans" is music speak for headphones. Clouds is music speak for a coming disaster. I am trapped in a headphone galaxy fallacy and have been for almost a decade. So are you. Well, most of you. A storm is coming, and the Clouds are ugly. The entire music listening experience has been evolving in tandem with shrinking systems and the manipulating manic-ness of multi- tasking..(anybody out there still have floor speakers or even GASP! a receiver?) The devices that the actual music is stored on and "played" get smaller. Soon you won't even be able to touch them. Time and space have collided and music gets ditched. Pitched into the black hole and replaced with consumption and coercion, and now the Cloud. Why oh Why?
Let's look at the reasons. Well isn't the reason for ditching one product for another pretty much the same across the board? " This one's faster. This one's smaller. I've got to get rid of all of this to make room for a pack n' play. The dog chewed through my Infinity woofer. The neighbors complain every time I put an album on at noon, at 3pm, at 8pm. All of my friends are doing it. I want to have all of my songs available all of the time attached to my soul and flickering by in clear digital filofax next to my cortex, a slave to the vertex perplexed. I want the fucking cloud to hover over my head like a supple storm coming, raining songs I don't need or won't listen to, so I can pluck them out like soundbites and instantly shape my soundtrack for the following five minutes until it shuffles on to the next mood. I don't have the time to put a cassette in and press play ( 4 seconds), I don't have the time to turn the stereo on and put a cd in and press play (3 seconds), I don't have the time to plunk the needle down delicately after sliding out this album from a clean sleeve and softly placing it on the record player (11-15 seconds). Look at that slim shiny thing that fits in my pocket and does everything but wipe my ass.
Remember this...You can only listen to one song at a time.
You can't multitask music. You can multitask while listening, yes. Cleaning, commuting, working out, fucking, thinking, writing..etc. Bullshit distractions that break up the purity of the experience. Our lives forced into a Steve Austin/Jetsonic landscape of get it done yesterday and fill the left over space up before your friends and neighbors do. Keep the kids occupied. keep the bluetooth humming. But what about merely listening? Does anybody just plain listen to music anymore? As a stand alone activity? People read books to read books. People watch movies to watch movies. Seems like its been downgraded to a supplemental activity hitched to the teet of the daily grind. A soundtrack to our lives, a fucking movie trailer rather than a listening experience.
And now a cloud??? What is it? It's yours, you own it but it's not really there. You can't see it, but you can ask it to do things for you. "Open the pod door Hal." "Play Get off of My Cloud from Decembers Children(And Everybody's)." Put everything you begged for, bought, borrowed or stole on it for a nominal fee. Give somebody else at Google or Apple or Spotify your entire musical LIBRARY, your entire musical life to hold on to for you. So you can not only clear your room, and clear your head..you can clear your HARD DRIVE too. More space for multi- tasking. Pay for your own digital ether.
And I'm stuck between these two worlds. I have friends who fit into some of the above and I don't know what to do with them. I get it. I may be waxing nostalgic, but I would like to enjoy the lost art of reaching out and touching something gently, maybe a button, maybe a cd, maybe the arm of a stylus...and getting some live loud music slammed back into my face through speakers! Bud out! That Buzzcocks song suddenly rises to my sonic surface - "
Then it looks so real I can feel it
And it feels so real I can taste it
And it tastes so real I can hear it
And it sounds so real I can see it
So why can't I touch it?
So why can't I touch it?
Yes vinyl junkies and purists will always be around. but Jesus, it's almost like subscribing to an outsider- like existence to claim to still use anything for listening to music that's not stored in a hard drive and plugged into your ears. DJ's excluded I guess, but for the most part even the days of the milkcrate have been replaced by the mac.
Last night, I looked at my milkcrate full of dog-eared vinyl and my old pioneer turntable sans stylus. I looked at the piles of plastic islands made of compact discs, my drawers full of cassettes meticulously pieced together as pre- digital mixTAPES. I plugged my ipod into my stereo feigning progress in a retroactive way, and played the freshly downloaded deluxe version of Sabbath Bloody Sabbath.
I laughed. I cried . I looked outside and it was overcast.
Let's look at the reasons. Well isn't the reason for ditching one product for another pretty much the same across the board? " This one's faster. This one's smaller. I've got to get rid of all of this to make room for a pack n' play. The dog chewed through my Infinity woofer. The neighbors complain every time I put an album on at noon, at 3pm, at 8pm. All of my friends are doing it. I want to have all of my songs available all of the time attached to my soul and flickering by in clear digital filofax next to my cortex, a slave to the vertex perplexed. I want the fucking cloud to hover over my head like a supple storm coming, raining songs I don't need or won't listen to, so I can pluck them out like soundbites and instantly shape my soundtrack for the following five minutes until it shuffles on to the next mood. I don't have the time to put a cassette in and press play ( 4 seconds), I don't have the time to turn the stereo on and put a cd in and press play (3 seconds), I don't have the time to plunk the needle down delicately after sliding out this album from a clean sleeve and softly placing it on the record player (11-15 seconds). Look at that slim shiny thing that fits in my pocket and does everything but wipe my ass.
Remember this...You can only listen to one song at a time.
You can't multitask music. You can multitask while listening, yes. Cleaning, commuting, working out, fucking, thinking, writing..etc. Bullshit distractions that break up the purity of the experience. Our lives forced into a Steve Austin/Jetsonic landscape of get it done yesterday and fill the left over space up before your friends and neighbors do. Keep the kids occupied. keep the bluetooth humming. But what about merely listening? Does anybody just plain listen to music anymore? As a stand alone activity? People read books to read books. People watch movies to watch movies. Seems like its been downgraded to a supplemental activity hitched to the teet of the daily grind. A soundtrack to our lives, a fucking movie trailer rather than a listening experience.
And now a cloud??? What is it? It's yours, you own it but it's not really there. You can't see it, but you can ask it to do things for you. "Open the pod door Hal." "Play Get off of My Cloud from Decembers Children(And Everybody's)." Put everything you begged for, bought, borrowed or stole on it for a nominal fee. Give somebody else at Google or Apple or Spotify your entire musical LIBRARY, your entire musical life to hold on to for you. So you can not only clear your room, and clear your head..you can clear your HARD DRIVE too. More space for multi- tasking. Pay for your own digital ether.
And I'm stuck between these two worlds. I have friends who fit into some of the above and I don't know what to do with them. I get it. I may be waxing nostalgic, but I would like to enjoy the lost art of reaching out and touching something gently, maybe a button, maybe a cd, maybe the arm of a stylus...and getting some live loud music slammed back into my face through speakers! Bud out! That Buzzcocks song suddenly rises to my sonic surface - "
Then it looks so real I can feel it
And it feels so real I can taste it
And it tastes so real I can hear it
And it sounds so real I can see it
So why can't I touch it?
So why can't I touch it?
Yes vinyl junkies and purists will always be around. but Jesus, it's almost like subscribing to an outsider- like existence to claim to still use anything for listening to music that's not stored in a hard drive and plugged into your ears. DJ's excluded I guess, but for the most part even the days of the milkcrate have been replaced by the mac.
Last night, I looked at my milkcrate full of dog-eared vinyl and my old pioneer turntable sans stylus. I looked at the piles of plastic islands made of compact discs, my drawers full of cassettes meticulously pieced together as pre- digital mixTAPES. I plugged my ipod into my stereo feigning progress in a retroactive way, and played the freshly downloaded deluxe version of Sabbath Bloody Sabbath.
I laughed. I cried . I looked outside and it was overcast.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Writers Needed
Circle of Fits is at a point where we (me) would like to take on a new writer or two. Here's the deal. Before you email circleoffits@gmail.com with a few of your writing samples, consider this.
This is mostly a music related site. Yet this is not a music NEWS site. There are gadzillions of those and most of them bore me. So if you are a factoid centric bot who wants to re-report what someone already has, then I'm not looking for you. And you're not looking for me. This is much different than shining a light on an undiscovered, under appreciated talent, in which we(me) hold in high regard here.
The main goals at Circle of Fits are critique, appreciation and commentary. The directions in which we choose to go here usually lean sarcastic, infuriated, hilarious and judgmental. Please have your own VOICE, a thick skin, a penchant for witty banter and a sense of humor.
As open as I am to the world of music, we will not be covering hip hop in any way shape or form here. Quite frankly, it is the bane of my existence. The kids deserve better.
I started this blog after the death of my sister in 2008. I needed an outlet for creativity and to release a longing to be heard. I have always needed these things and I will continue to veer off the music map and go quite personal with rants, poetry, videos, and social commentary that is extremely opinionated. I hope you can hang.
With that said, please send me your writing samples at circleoffits@gmail.com.
Thank you, Seano
This is mostly a music related site. Yet this is not a music NEWS site. There are gadzillions of those and most of them bore me. So if you are a factoid centric bot who wants to re-report what someone already has, then I'm not looking for you. And you're not looking for me. This is much different than shining a light on an undiscovered, under appreciated talent, in which we(me) hold in high regard here.
The main goals at Circle of Fits are critique, appreciation and commentary. The directions in which we choose to go here usually lean sarcastic, infuriated, hilarious and judgmental. Please have your own VOICE, a thick skin, a penchant for witty banter and a sense of humor.
As open as I am to the world of music, we will not be covering hip hop in any way shape or form here. Quite frankly, it is the bane of my existence. The kids deserve better.
I started this blog after the death of my sister in 2008. I needed an outlet for creativity and to release a longing to be heard. I have always needed these things and I will continue to veer off the music map and go quite personal with rants, poetry, videos, and social commentary that is extremely opinionated. I hope you can hang.
With that said, please send me your writing samples at circleoffits@gmail.com.
Thank you, Seano
Monday, July 25, 2011
Soundgarden Live in Philadelphia July 13th
Well. I made it through 15 years, 3 Chris Cornell solo albums, his rebound through rehab called Audioslave and only a few haircuts since my last Soundgarden show on the ill- fated Lollapalooza tour in 1996. Not last year's one shot headliner in Chicago, no this was in Syracuse, New York at the State Fairgrounds SUPERUNKNOWINGLY(until I just looked it up)- ALSO on July 13. Ben was nearly AWOL, Chris was drinking deeply and darkly in his own tour bus and Matt played too fast( and he has ever since, Man that dude can really give an adrenaline bump to any mid groove PJ song), but I digress my brothers and sisters.....
I went alone as I usually do to shows. I don't need to focus on any friendships or bro- worthy high-fiving fervor in a relive- my- flanneled- youth sort of way when I go to shows. I'm there for the music, the connection to the songs that meant a fuck of a lot to me. So when I got to the Festival Pier in downtown Philly on a direct drive from a long days work in NYC. I was cocked and loaded to not put up with any shit from the mid- forties faux- tanned housewife contingent that were gonna yap their way through my show while guzzling their 8 dollar miller lites in plastic bottles. Yeah, so that happened. When one of them laughed her way through a text to her friend 10 feet away and called out the Mars Volta as "Mars Vulva", I chose to move rather than pummel. This show was too important.
The boys came out looking spry, rejuvenated, mostly sober and still very hairy. Think Badmotorfinger with wrinkles. Chris had the ticket selling hair, the happy family man demeanor, the swimmer's body, but did he have the chops back? After keeping it low key on Euphoria Morning, croaking and groaning through those smoked out, post divorce beer bloated Audioslave albums, I was fearful. I had seen him solo in 2005 while on tour in San Francisco and he blew me away. But I had been keeping track of the setlist on this tour so far, and it was putting his 47 year old ass to the test. Well holy shit! Lets just say you point to a note in the sky and connect it to that bloodcurdling but clear bellow in the high crest of Slaves and Bulldozers...the "bleed your HEARRTTT OUTTT" part? You know the one if you're a fan. Hit! Ding! Uppercut to the ears, baby! Yesss!!! Ahh, now I could stomp my invisible Docs on the perverbial pavement. Now I was in sing the fuck along mode, yo! The man hit every note that Halladay worshippin' crowd full of skeptics and grunge historians could throw at him. Welcome back to the Banshee King!
So, Kim had switched from skullcap to fedora, but he had not switched axes, and that Guild S-100 carved a gaping hole through my grunge soul man! Dirty and pure as always. That grey pony swinging in the breeze of the smoke machine fans
Matt played fast. Love him dearly, but he made Spoonman sound like Cakemixerman. Ratttattaattt to the tenth power.
Ben swung that bass around and stared and gooned it up for the crowd like that loveable low note hoarding escapee that he is. I'm glad he got off of the couch surfing tour and on to this one. he's a true talent. Hiro and Jason have never been missed, but Ben was.
Here's the setlist. It couldn't have been any better except for maybe the inclusion of Kyle Petty, Zero Chance, Drawing Flies and Full on Kevin's Mom. A night of nights, with the full moon in my eye, and the 90s in my rearview.
I went alone as I usually do to shows. I don't need to focus on any friendships or bro- worthy high-fiving fervor in a relive- my- flanneled- youth sort of way when I go to shows. I'm there for the music, the connection to the songs that meant a fuck of a lot to me. So when I got to the Festival Pier in downtown Philly on a direct drive from a long days work in NYC. I was cocked and loaded to not put up with any shit from the mid- forties faux- tanned housewife contingent that were gonna yap their way through my show while guzzling their 8 dollar miller lites in plastic bottles. Yeah, so that happened. When one of them laughed her way through a text to her friend 10 feet away and called out the Mars Volta as "Mars Vulva", I chose to move rather than pummel. This show was too important.
The boys came out looking spry, rejuvenated, mostly sober and still very hairy. Think Badmotorfinger with wrinkles. Chris had the ticket selling hair, the happy family man demeanor, the swimmer's body, but did he have the chops back? After keeping it low key on Euphoria Morning, croaking and groaning through those smoked out, post divorce beer bloated Audioslave albums, I was fearful. I had seen him solo in 2005 while on tour in San Francisco and he blew me away. But I had been keeping track of the setlist on this tour so far, and it was putting his 47 year old ass to the test. Well holy shit! Lets just say you point to a note in the sky and connect it to that bloodcurdling but clear bellow in the high crest of Slaves and Bulldozers...the "bleed your HEARRTTT OUTTT" part? You know the one if you're a fan. Hit! Ding! Uppercut to the ears, baby! Yesss!!! Ahh, now I could stomp my invisible Docs on the perverbial pavement. Now I was in sing the fuck along mode, yo! The man hit every note that Halladay worshippin' crowd full of skeptics and grunge historians could throw at him. Welcome back to the Banshee King!
So, Kim had switched from skullcap to fedora, but he had not switched axes, and that Guild S-100 carved a gaping hole through my grunge soul man! Dirty and pure as always. That grey pony swinging in the breeze of the smoke machine fans
Matt played fast. Love him dearly, but he made Spoonman sound like Cakemixerman. Ratttattaattt to the tenth power.
Ben swung that bass around and stared and gooned it up for the crowd like that loveable low note hoarding escapee that he is. I'm glad he got off of the couch surfing tour and on to this one. he's a true talent. Hiro and Jason have never been missed, but Ben was.
Here's the setlist. It couldn't have been any better except for maybe the inclusion of Kyle Petty, Zero Chance, Drawing Flies and Full on Kevin's Mom. A night of nights, with the full moon in my eye, and the 90s in my rearview.
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- Encore:
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Monday, July 18, 2011
Where I've Been
Wow. This is the longest stretch of days without an entry on this blog that I can remember. I will be catching myself up with a focus on story telling over the next few days. So many stories. I toured my cherished, almost legendary house that I grew up in. I went to my high school reunion. I went to Woodstock, NY. I went to the Soundgarden show in Philadelphia. I went to see a fantastic show in NY with a two man HHEAVYYY band called The Body backed by a a choired gaggle of female druids. I've been working on a sushi place in Soho and a Bearded Lady bar in Brooklyn in between scraping and coating my way thru another summer in this suburban enclave of Philadelphia. I just got back from an awesome classic car show in Syracuse. I've had some of the best conversations. Ones that stick like bondo to my brain. Time to put it all down.
I miss the writing. I have to find a way to get internet access at home instead of trying to think while being distracted by pinstripes and khakis and strollers at Starbucks every morning. I sit here stewing and stirring my inner rant while attaching myself to the lives of these now familiar characters.
I'm peeling back layers, shedding skin, thinking of art. Using my time wisely while surviving and making sure my son's life is full of love and lessons. I'm digging for truth and dusting off the fossils I find. I'm struggling , but with a summer drenched smile and words shuffling and sorting ideas for it all. I'm shifting my distractions into slow gear, until the gears clench and stop.
I miss the writing. I have to find a way to get internet access at home instead of trying to think while being distracted by pinstripes and khakis and strollers at Starbucks every morning. I sit here stewing and stirring my inner rant while attaching myself to the lives of these now familiar characters.
I'm peeling back layers, shedding skin, thinking of art. Using my time wisely while surviving and making sure my son's life is full of love and lessons. I'm digging for truth and dusting off the fossils I find. I'm struggling , but with a summer drenched smile and words shuffling and sorting ideas for it all. I'm shifting my distractions into slow gear, until the gears clench and stop.
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