Sweet Memories

In anticipation of the upcoming Spring Training and subsequent season, I thought it would be fun to do a series of posts in honor of last season(in no particular order of chronology). Not all of these memories will be Red Sox related, so fear not ye weaklings who sneer at my geographically dislocated fanhood.
The above photo comes from a game at Fenway Park between the Red Sox and Yankees on April 22nd, 2007. In the 3rd inning, the Sox were down 3-0 and the Yanks had a rookie, Chase Wright, on the mound. I was bartending that night at Shultzy’s in the U-District. About 5 Sox fans had bellied up to the bar for some brew and eats, most of whom are graduate students at the Univdersity of Washington. When the count went to 2-1 on Manny Ramirez, one of the guys called his shot and, sure enough with all Fenway/Sox mystique, Manny blasted one over the Monster. Cheers rang loud and looks of synchronous amazement zipped back and forth between us. A silent magic seemed to have crept into the room, but only for those of us at and behind the bar(I do believe we were slightly annoying that night to all other patrons and servers). Next up was J.D. Drew. Another one of the guys called out, “Homer, right here!” The crack of the bat was reassuring and as the ball flew into the bullpen, we cried out some amalgamation of yeah! holy shit! and right on! Are collective feeling now must have been something akin to a dugout when the starter is in the 5th inning of a no-hitter. Do not speak a word of that which we all know; and the magic surged light a light bulb in an electrical storm. Not a second after Mike Lowell stepped into the batters box, another one of the guys, going forward on his elbows as if to fly over the bar at the TV, hollered, “How ’bout back-to-back-to-back?!!!?” More of a command than a question. When that command was heeded with a massive shot onto Lansdowne Street past the Monster, our increasing cheers took on the tenor of a god, pleased by the willingness of its subjects to do its bidding(from afar and without direct contact…divine intervention through collective faith).
Upon Lowell’s home run trot, I, the bartender, called out for a celebratory round of shots. As I began to pour them(one for me as well, of course!), Jason Varitek, the Captain, stepped to the plate. In mid-pour, I uttered, “Well, the Dodgers did it last season, let’s just go for 4 straight, back-to-back-to-back-to-back!”
Tekky sent the first pitch he saw into the stratosphere and us into madness. We were even so loud that one of the servers came up to me and said some bullshit about how we should quiet down.
That is one of those moments where/when you feel directly connected to the game, not just for our cosmic ability to call 4 straight home runs by four different people, but for the sheer joyful pandemonium and awe. That realm of emotional connection and elation that may forever remain impossible to verbalize; it is a psychic communication.
The Sox went on to win the game(and later the whole shebang-a-bang) and I continued to blabber about my brush with the magic of the ether for two weeks straight. The only thing that would have been any better? Take a guess…

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The Horror!


So, first of all, I need to apologize for the delay in getting this post up; another busy week, another bullshit excuse. On Wednesday morning I woke up before I had to be at work with an excitement, because it was the first day of Pitchers & Catchers reporting to Spring Training!! Before I even got up for a shower, I flipped on ESPN to get a look at, maybe, some Buster Olney reporting with images of players stretching and warming up. How disappointed was I? It was like waking up on Christmas morning to find that the house had broken into and all the presents stolen, because there was Clemens and McNamee giving testimony to the Congressional Oversight Committee. And Clemens looked awful!!! I’ve never been a fan of his, but it was gut-wrenching to watch; the way he was squirming and double-talking his way through a corn maze of lies and how completely retarded and despicable his lawyers are(constantly interrupting when they were clearly instructed that lawyers were not to contribute). I couldn’t give two shits if The Rocket goes to jail for perjury, eventually, or if he just ends up living in infamy and seclusion like McGwire. What really bothered me was that I woke up ready for the first tosses of a new season and got nothing in return for my love and devotion. Show me some fuckin baseball now!! Please?!? Hopefully, this crap will all quiet down and the Spring Training can get underway on igniting our passions and hopes for another Summer.

The Hard Sell

First off, any of you(do I have 4 readers now?) who still have the opportunity to see DJ Shadow & Cut Chemist perform The Hard Sell should bust ass to get to this show. Oh, and do me one solid as well…get there in time to see Kid Koala open for them, he is simply a turntable wizard. Bench and I showed up at 9.20 for the show, which had door time of 8, and Koala had already finished his set. Damn!! I’ve seen him once and was completely floored; it was possibly the same emotional-musical experience as seeing Jimi Hendrix in London before he blew up. Or, at least, that’s what I imagine, seeing as that I wasn’t even close to a sparkle in either parents’ eye at that time. Mostly, I was bummed that Bench didn’t get to see Koala and also a little bummed that I missed him, but that is just how shit goes down. Unpredictable show scheduling on a Sunday night in Seattle, the most uptight latenight town on the West Coast.
Anyhow, the set that Shadow & Cut throw down is a marvelous hour and a half session in music education. I’d call it Hip-Hop Roots & Culture 255 if we’re starting my dream university. I particularly loved the litle De La Soul tribute section(Prince Paul, we salute you). The crowd was extra hype for a Seattle hip-hop crowd, rockin so hard up front that 45’s were skipping occasionally.
The thing that more than made up for missing Koala do his thang? Chattin his ass up while he worked the gear table. One of the least pretentious people in music that I’ve encountered(still wish he’d of hung out at my house back in 2000!!!)
Goodnight for now and look forward to the Mouth of the Architect show!!

Distance makes the Heart


So, I’ve been a little bogged down lately, which will be my main excuse for not posting in over a week. Stickin by it. Been absolutely drowning in new music. That’s not a problem, just a fact. A fact that keeps me busy and away from idol time in cyberspace(is it still called that?). Between my trip to the record store(see last post), data disc music sharing and a new writing gig(!!!), I’ve easily listened to a new album every day in the last week and a half. A lot to digest and therapeutic as well. Seeing as I’m a little out of rhythm, I’d like to just spit out a few thoughts and happenings from the last week and a half. I guess it would be like a little brain dump for the blogosphere.
The Mariners finally got the deal done for Erik Bedard, which is great in some senses(the Ms will have a badass 1-2 punch at the head of their rotation), but I think I agree with this guy, even though his photo bothers me.
I feel a creeping sense of dread when it comes to the news about Schilling the last couple of days. Mostly because my stomach churns at the slightest signs of instability and challenge before the Red Sox even open camp!! I’ll admit it, I’ve become a very spoiled(and rabid) Sox fan over the last few years…and I want it to stay that way. I love watching them win, something extra gratifying to it.
The Black Mountain show last week was phenomenal. Except for the smoke machine, just didn’t get it. But Tre, Greg and I had a rockin good time; it’s great when people around you are staring at you because your cycling shoes are tapping so hard on the mezzanine that it becomes a secondary bass drum(Greg, I’m looking in your direction, smiling).
I can’t stop thinking about just how fucking awesome There Will Be Blood is. Seriously. And Rambo was actually pretty entertaining, but certainly lacking in substance.
DJ Shadow/Cut Chemist with Kid Koala is comin up this Sunday and I’m stoked to be goin with Bench. In fact, I’m excited to be going to more shows overall this year. I barely went to any shows while I was married, but that quickly changed when I moved out and the separation started. However, I am consciously shifting gears this year to be more involved with live music.
Well, I think that’s enough for now. Remember to keep a lookout for my reviews and such at the above-mentioned link for my new writing gig!

Most Recent Trip to the Record Store


I thought it might be fun to have a series of posts(starting with this one) that simply share what albums I picked up on my recent travels to the record store. The day, Saturday(though, for some reason, I thought/felt like it was Sunday and forgot to pay for parking, but didn’t get a ticket in over two hours of music perusal), January 26th, 2008. Record store in question? Easy Street on Lower Queen Anne. Mood: Vinyl-thirsty; initially seeking Electronica noise, ended up heavy on the Rock and Metal…meandering love.
The list:
Grails Burning Off Impurities, Priestess Hello Master, Helios Eingya, Red Sparowes At The Soundless Dawn, Old Man Gloom Seminar II: The Holy Rites Of Primitivism Regressionism, Black Mountain In The Future, Sleep Holy Mountain…all on sweet, delicious vinyl. and…
…Colleen The Golden Morning Breaks on CD. much fun was had, ears to be delighted for some time.

BLACK MOUNTAIN/NEUMOS/THURS. 31st


Hey everybody(in Seattle, at least)! Me and my boy Tre are gonna be rawkusly rawkin at the Black Mountain show on this coming Thursday…YOU SHOULD JOIN US!!!! It will be a kick ass, beardo-bloodthirsty-Canuck-rockin time. If you haven’t already heard them, find a way to check out their new ablum(intentional mispelling…it’s called slang! big ups to Hutch, who is the first person I ever done heard say it that way). Hope to see you there with your beards on!

A Mystery of the Record Store

Now, I know I’m not the only one that this happens to, but what the fuck is up with goin record shoppin and, like, 10 minutes after you step foot into the store, you gotsta take a huge piss, but 99.9999999% of all record stores don’t have a bathroom for customers??!!?!?!!???!!
Happens every time. Must be one of my Meriods.
Anybody know why this shit happens?