The Skunkeye Consumer Guide

Curiosity got the better of me, as it always seems to, and there’s been some buzz, and, hell, the weather is gorgeous, so I ventured out and explored the village which recently sprung up outside my building. A co-worker who is an expert on cults, among other things, warned me not to drink their Yerba Maté. Although zealots and would-be-converters seem to be drawn to me like moths to a flame, I am impenetrable, so there was no danger of my returning to the office having experienced the second coming of Yahshua. Actually, it all seemed harmless enough, baking bread, sing-a-longs, and crafts. Quite charming, actually, with a sorts of little houses and even a fountain! I liked some of their wares, especially the shoes (I’m on this quest to find sandals that cover up my fugly toes, my Betulas are falling apart and the model has been long discontinued). I enjoyed a lively theatrical staged outside of colorfully painted van (with airplane wings) entitled “Hippie-crit (Why the Movement Never Got Off The Ground).” I guess these Twelve Tribes folk gave up drugs and found religion. Something about a black box... and that drink was so delicious... Very friendly people and I took back lots of free magazines. Finally feel like I really, truly belong.
Tomorrow I’ll be going here.

Well, its Folklife Festival time again. (It seems I’ve been at this gig for so long now, and especially with the National Mall right outside my office, that annual Washington events have become tediously cyclical, as if to mark how old and bored I’m getting). Despite my aversion to throngs of waddling touristas, and even though its always so excruciatingly hot and humid when the thing is going on (wouldn’t it be wiser to hold it in the Spring or Autumn?), I always venture over and find something worth seeing.
The Festival seems to be getting smaller and smaller and slightly slipshod with each year. I suppose its hard to top The Silk Road theme of a couple of years ago, which was well-planned, rich and diverse, and worked so well thematically. This year’s themes are Haiti, Nuestra Música (Music in Latino Culture), and Waterways. Pretty disparate.
Yesterday I was able to take in a live chicken sacrifice demonstration, get drunk on sugar cane rum, attempt to salsa with some granolas types, and learn some sea shanties.
Actually I experienced the most stunning mariachi performance. Was even making me tear up a bit (its been a rough couple of weeks). Los Camperos de Nati Cano are amazing! I’ve always been a sucker for mariachi -Nati Cano and his orchestra bring it to new joyous, heartfelt, and sublime levels. Awesome!
The Haiti section seemed to be still getting organized but I was able to learn a bit. Jeepneys in Haiti are called Tap Taps. I was watching a devil mask making demonstration and an obnoxious fat white lady came by and started criticizing the artisan’s technique and offering unwanted suggestions. It was really rude and absurd. They couldn’t speak English and she couldn’t speak French or Creole and she was persistent despite the fact that it was none of her business and they couldn’t understand her and a loud, heated row ensued. She’s totally going to get Voudoued!
The Waterways section was pretty unremarkable. A boat is on display.
I heard some old time gospel/spiritual music coming from a tent and it sounded kinda awful. Then I realized they were not only being led by a shrill-voiced white woman - half the ensemble was deaf!

At the Embassy of Cambodia last week:
Watching Maddox play. He's rolling around in the grass. Haha. So cute. (click thumbnail to enlarge)

I always approach the New York Times Sunday Styles section with some trepidation – more often than not there’s someone from my past, some friend or associate, featured in the vows section. Not good for my ego these days when I’m feeling in career/relationship nowheresland. Well, I guess the House & Home section is filled with mines as well. Thanks, Thickeye, for bringing this to my attention. I share his sentiments, and, by the way, his blog rocks! Thickeye comments that he doesn’t know whether to “make fun of this lady or date her,” I actually dated her in college. (My life revolves around minor claims to fame). She’s one tres savvy lady, hard working, intuitive, gorgeous, and above all, a good person. Dunno where the “punk rock” mentioned in the article comes from though. Exquisite and well-informed taste (except for maybe when it came to me, but she had the smarts to move on). I’m so green-eyed about her pad!

Speaking of pads, Bumblefuck finally moved out on Sunday. June 20 is now officially my day of liberation, my Bastille Day. The stank that has been permeating the casa, my auberge espanol sans NJ nationale, oddly vanished after he packed up and left. Housemate D and are still finding and cleaning up body hair and I imagine we will be for some time. I feel kind of bad for the kid, though.
He’s moving to LA. He’s gonna have to wax in that town.

On Tuesday I stopped by one of my dealers for my weekly fix. I came looking for Hot Fuss by the much-hyped Vegas boyband The Killers. But my heart really raced when I found a somewhat dusty copy of the David Whitaker Songbook. I’ve been looking for this for ages! Whitaker is a brilliant songwriter, arranger, film soundtrack composer lauded in recent years by the likes of Bertrand Burgalat, Air, and The Verve (who borrowed heavily from his awesome arrangement of TheLast Time with The Andrew Oldham Orchestra for the hit "The Bittersweet Symphony"). He’s especially revered in France – this is a Tricatel release. The David Whitaker Songbook is a wonderful collection of his influential 1960’s work, mixing selections from lovely soundtrack instrumentals (”Run Wild, Run Free”), session work (Lee Hazlewood’s “What's More I don't Need her”), and original compositions for popular singers. Also included is the now more readily available pre-Velvet Underground Nico’s scopitone single, “I’m Not Saying,” and a rare French-language tune, “Plaisir d'amour,” by a young Marianne Faithful. What really turns me on is France Gall’s trippy, sitar-dripped “Chanson Indienne.” I’m not a France Gall fan by any means – her infantile voice and delivery annoy me – even the Gainsbourg-penned stuff - but this track sounds like it could be on an Elysian Fields album! Sexy. This collection is a delight and some of the music is truly beautiful. Also nice intro notes from former Rolling Stone manager Andrew Loog Oldham. Those who enjoy vintage soundtrack music from the likes of John Barry, Andre Popp, and Georges DeLarue, and dig the sounds of swinging London and Paris, are well advised to track this disc down and enjoy. Well curated and lovingly put together.

As for The Killers – methinks I’m just half sold at this point. Maybe Hot Fuss would worked better as a five-song EP.

Our next president rocks.

The last couple of weeks have been heavy, stressful, and murky for me. I’ve really been running on empty, trying so hard to keep it together and didn’t realize how stressed I was until my family’s arrival from overseas on Sunday evening. We truly experienced a miracle late that evening in the ICU when my grandmother survived being taken off intubation and the machines after three weeks. Her recovery is far from over and its impossible to tell with each minute which way things will turn, but she is a truly fighter. She has gone through unfathomable discomfort throughout this ordeal. Our lives have been greatly blessed by Smither.

The discovery of this site, chachacharming.com, really brightened my day today! Sheila B. is a very clever writer and she knows her stuff. Ye-ye, international girl group, Swinging Chick devotees, this is your new crash pad! Fantastique!

Speaking of devotees, I don’t understand this massive Reagan pilgrimage. Good grief! The National Mall has been like the Ganges since yesterday. And we got the heat and the garbage too. I thought Nancy was going to self-immolate last night in the Rotunda. The good thing is that we got released from work early yesterday because of the procession and have tomorrow off so we can mourn nationally. More time I can spend with my grandmother at the hospital.

The Concrete’s “Can’t Hurry Love” video makes me so happy. (scroll down to bottom of Guardian feature). Lovely art direction, animation.

Still digesting the new PJ Harvey, Uh Huh Her. I’ve always seen her more as an artist, like a sculptor, and my brain is a bit too dulled over these days to be challenged. Full attention to the album will have to wait. But so far I like what I hear.

Hey kids, if you haven’t been properly introdued to The Fall, this new compilation, 50,000 Fall Fans Can't Be Wrong: 39 Golden Greats, is essential! To put the band into context, Franz Ferdinand often cite The Fall as a huge influence. The Fall have been a particularly prolific band and this is a good primer, bringing together many of their important singles and liner notes. And at S13.99 it’s a steal! So glad Mark E. Smith is still at it (he looked pretty beat in 24 Hour Party People). And Brix is apparently back in the Fall fold. I kinda dug her side project, The Adult Net. Well, the California/British/Paisley psychedelia spirit of it at least. I pulled many an over-nighter listening to The Fall as an art student. This compilation is great because most of my Fall is on gesso-smeared, dusty cassettes or worn-out vinyl. Skunkeye is old that way.

Visitors du Jour

Smokin' Joe Frazier, Heavyweight Boxing Champion (Pictured, left, fighting Ali - The Thrilla in Manila!!!)

Gyude Bryant, Chairman of the National Transitional Government of Liberia

Weren’t they supposed to put together a design commission for the anti-terrorist barricades in DC? We just got ours this morning – they are so fugly, I swear this city is turning into Beirut. (With candy-colored pandas.) They are just concrete - couldn’t they have come up with a more attractive or design-conscious mold? I wonder who has the contract… Ours are particularly hazardous – thigh-high (for me) and right at the foot of the steps outside the front doors. Accident/lawsuit waiting to happen – one of these days I’ll be bent on getting the hell out of dodge and the sun will be blinding and I’ll forget to look. Hello broken teeth and head split open.

Saw Saved the other night. Wanted to see something light and funny to get my mind off of the hospital. It was cute, and clever at times, maybe a little too PC at the end. As with Mean Girls, I wanted more bite. Good casting although I really can’t stomach Mandy Moore. All I can say is she truly makes her version of the Beach Boy’s “God Only Knows” her own. And that’s not a compliment. That Eva Amurri (Susan Sarandon’s daughter) is stunning! Such a breath of fresh air. A bit too “European” for American mainstream films methinks.

Astralwerks has recently been reissuing the Brian Eno catalogue, remastered from original recordings. I treated myself to Before & After Science. I have it on vinyl someplace – I really dig Side B. Maybe because its cropped up in a few European and Mexican film soundtracks over the last couple of years, or maybe I’m just in that kind of mood, but I’ve had a real hankering to listen to “By This River.” I know, kinda depressing…