Month: October 2004

Alas, John Peel

BBC: Legendary radio DJ John Peel dies of heart attack at 65. Peel is one of those tastemakers who would be famous even if you only knew him through the sessions that artists recorded on his show. I’m much more inclined to pick up a “Peel Sessions” recording from a band than another live show, just because I know the performance is going to be astonishingly good (witness: Bauhaus, Joy Division, the Birthday Party, New Order, Tim Buckley, Stiff Little Fingers, PJ Harvey and Stereolab, Gang of Four, the Cure, Happy Mondays, the Buzzcocks…)

As tastemaker and enabler of amazing sound, there are few DJs who could even think about filling his shoes today. (And I think that they all work for KEXP.) Via MetaFilter.

Standards and stardust

It’s very easy for an obsessive organizer type to get lost in iTunes. All those data fields, some of which are rarely filled in—take “composer,” for instance—mean there’s always something to look at in a spare minute and to try to populate. So I was delighted to find possibly the last resource I’ll ever need for composers of popular standards (as performed by jazz singers and instrumental artists): Todd’s Lyrics and Links. In addition to lyrics, he also lists composer, lyricist, arranger (where appropriate), and the whole shebang is organized by performer. I recognize a work of obsession when I see it. My hat’s off, Todd, and thanks.

Weekend respite

The trip to New Hampshire on Saturday became a trip to Maine. We walked around the small coastal town of Ogunquit, Joy and Jefferson charmed all onlookers, we walked on the beach in 45-degree high winds, and turned around and went home. Charlie and Carie are well and are finding the same things we did with Behr paint from Home Depot: good coverage requires so many coats that the price disparity with higher-grade paints is effectively erased.

Yesterday was a bit of a work day. I replaced a few downspout sections, including one by our three-season porch that proved to have about two feet of compost matter in it. The worst part is that it was feeding into a hole in the driveway next to the house that might have been a dry well, only it was completely full. Which of course means it’s going to be a pain to excavate—especially since the entire thing is surrounded by the asphalt of the driveway. Incidentally, there’s nothing better than a reciprocating saw for cutting aluminum gutters, though the noise in an enclosed space like my workshop is akin to a motorcycle engine going inside one’s skull.

I also continued the Sisyphean task of leaf pickup. Our oak trees won’t drop their leaves for quite a while longer, so I’m just removing everyone else’s debris right now and it’s still taking hours each time.

Last night we tried having a fire in our fireplace for the first time. Alas, it burned itself out before our logs really got going. I’ll have to bring in some more kindling and try again tonight.

Now for the week, and trying to type keeping my fingers crossed for the Sox.

Links of the undead

More links that have hung around for a day or so, but refuse to get stale:

  • Adam Curry’s mom has been diagnosed with cancer. Our best wishes go out to her.
  • William Gibson on conservatives and fans who are surprised when he reveals his politics: “If I were to put together a truly essential thank-you list for the people who most made it possible for me to write my first six novels, I’d certainly owe as much to Ronald Reagan as to Bill Gates or Lou Reed. Reagan’s presidency put the grit in my dystopia. His presidency was the fresh kitty litter I spread for utterly crucial traction on the icey driveway of uncharted futurity. His smile was the nightmare in my back pocket.”
  • A website that perfectly characterizes the zeitgeist: RegretTheError.com, a blog that picks up all the corrections of all the newspapers, news sites, and stories about media accuracy.
  • A Frolic of My Own writes about dangerous cheese. “Every since 9/11 it’s been harder to get. They will hold up an entire shipping container if they think it contains even a few rounds of unpasteurized cheese,” he said. Those damned French, trying to destroy our pasteurized way of life!
  • Slashdot interviews Neal Stephenson, and the author comes back in a seriously funny way. I’m waiting for William Gibson to take the bait on his blog regarding Stephenson’s claims of mortal combat: “Our third fight occurred at the Peace Arch on the U.S./Canadian border between Seattle and Vancouver. Gibson wished to retire from that sort of lifestyle that required ceaseless training in the martial arts and sleeping outdoors under the rain. He only wished to sit in his garden brushing out novels on rice paper. But honor dictated that he must fight me for a third time first. Of course the Peace Arch did not remain standing for long. Before long my sword arm hung useless at my side. One of my psi blasts kicked up a large divot of earth and rubble, uncovering a silver metallic object, hitherto buried, that seemed to have been crafted by an industrial designer. It was a nitro-veridian device that had been buried there by Sterling. We were able to fly clear before it detonated. The blast caused a seismic rupture that split off a sizable part of Canada and created what we now know as Vancouver Island. This was the last fight between me and Gibson. For both of us, by studying certain ancient prophecies, had independently arrived at the same conclusion, namely that Sterling’s professed interest in industrial design was a mere cover for work in superweapons. Gibson and I formed a pact to fight Sterling. So far we have made little headway in seeking out his lair of brushed steel and white LEDs, because I had a dentist appointment and Gibson had to attend a writers’ conference, but keep an eye on Slashdot for any further developments.”
  • Speaking of Stephenson and his recent obsessions: he, along with James Gleick, probably would have a lot to say about the New York Public Library’s one-sidedly idolatrous portrayal of Sir Isaac Newton.
  • Doc, again, nails the point home about the difference between Internet users and “media” “consumers.”
  • Donna Wentworth at the Copyfight blog gives an update on the progress (or lack thereof) of the INDUCE Act in committee. It sounds like some good strong points in favor of technological innovation have been made in the hearings; hopefully they’ll be heard over the din of the industry crying out as its business model shatters around it.
  • Microsoft scales back Passport. Remember Passport?
  • Excellent. The brainwashing program is working. Incidentally, we’ve always been at war with Oceania.
  • And our media is liberal, of course.

Get out of town NOW

Boston, that is. My take on this coming weekend: unless you have tickets for the game or like lots of crowds, now would be a good time to head out. So Lisa and I will take the dogs north to hang out with Charlie and Carie in New Hampshire tomorrow. Enjoy the fall…

The politics of flu

Moxie busts the Kerry campaign for digging at Cheney for getting a flu shot. I agree with the Mox on a political issue, for once in a blue moon. This was an unnecessary dig. However, I disagree with her logic. Clinton is six weeks removed from a quadruple bypass, at a time when his heart tissue is healing and still vulnerable to infection. Cheney is several years removed from his most recent attack. The Kerry campaign might be justified in making this distinction, but it’s ultimately an unclassy way to call the Administration on what is a serious failure in public health preparedness.

Ron Suskind lays it on the line

Salon: Reality-based reporting. An interview with Ron Suskind. He says, “The news strategies of those in power are really born of a dark corner of the American ideal, which is kill or be killed, which is to rely on assertion rather than authenticity and to use power as best you can to get to the agreed-upon ends.” Yeah, but what else is new? Sigh.

The Sox. The Pennant.

Sports history, folks. Next stop: World Series. Hopefully the shambolic Sox will hold it together long enough to make that sports history too. If you want to see what coverage of sports history looks like, check out the Boston Globe’s online report. I swear to God, I’ve never seen a game covered from more angles, more reporters, or with more adjectives. (More coverage: here, here, here, and here.

Oh, and less-confidential to David Ellis: enough, already. Let us have our celebration.

QTN™: Brasserie Duyck, Jenlain Bière de Garde

Yep, the French make beer—highly complex and distinctive beer. I don’t think your average Pabst or Bud drinker would denote this fabulous bière de garde as a beer, but it’s accessible to anyone who’s enjoyed Belgian beers. Michael Jackson notes that Duyck’s Jenlain uses pan-European hops (Alsace, Flanders, Germany, Slovenia) and that it’s 6.5% ABV; he doesn’t note the surprising sweetness that greets you on the first sip. The sweetness is matched by the complexity of the nose, which is equal parts orange peel, bready yeast, and caramel, and by the lengthy finish with lingering citrus and spice notes. Not an everyday beer, but then what is?

Hell Night at the East Coast Grill

I entered the East Coast Grill in Inman Square last night just as the Phantom Gourmet was leaving (you could tell it was him because a van with his logo was parked at the curb). At the door: a dish holding round candies that, upon closer inspection, turned out to be Tums. The occasion: Hell Night, a night where everything on the menu, including drinks, has a higher capsicum per cc count than should be legal.

The instigator: my friend Niall, who reported he had wanted to go to one of these since we got to grad school four years ago but always managed to miss it. From this morning, I wonder if he still feels the same way this morning.

As things go, you could still have a good, though spicy, meal at this thing. I got the obligatory insane hot thing out of the way early with a “Hurler from Hell” (an oyster shooter made with habanero-infused vodka). The oyster was indistinct after its bath in the vodka, which was unspeakable. While recovering from that and basking in the incredulous stares of my tablemates and the waitress, I silently pledged to take the rest of the evening easy. That was accomplished by sticking to appetizers. My choices: a fairly sublime raw tuna with jicama slaw and a hot pepper marinade, and a decent plate of baked quahogs surrounded by chorizo sausage. I couldn’t finish the quahogs, less because of the heat than because of the uneasy interaction of the chorizo with the rest of my meal.

I regret to say that it wasn’t the hottest meal I’ve ever had—I’ve eaten in some Indian and Thai restaurants that produced the full cold-sweat, white-faced, ear-ringing effect and last night I only got the sweat part. But to be fair I chose three- and four-bomb food (the scale tops out at seven with the famous Pasta from Hell). It was certainly the best-tasting hot-food meal I’ve ever had.

Tinmanic

Tin Man was on fire yesterday. Point one: catching the great CNN headline, “Public Split on Whether Bush is a Divider.” Point two: pointing me to Andrew Sullivan’s fisking of William Safire’s editorial taking Kerry to task over calling out Mary Cheney. This is what I wanted to write on Monday and couldn’t pull it together.

But the best is his memory of the 1992 election. Like Tin Man, this was the first election in which I voted for president. I don’t remember as much about that election; if memory serves I was overloaded with classes and not watching a lot of television, but I shared the sense of excitement that things were going to be different. I didn’t know how different at that point.

Today I’m starting, for the first time since the DNC, to feel the stirrings of that hope again. Hope for a day where we govern the “reality based” world and not the world our fundamentalist leader would like to live in. Where we prosecute Ken Lay, not Martha Stewart; go after the radically decentralized and stateless Al Qaeda first and tackle its state sponsors (if any) second; where we don’t cynically underfund vote-getting mandates like “No Child Left Behind,” AIDS money for Africa, and body armor, VA hospitals, and salaries for the troops that fight our wars. Where the Attorney General and the President uphold the Constitution. T minus two weeks and counting.

Game 7!

The Sox are fighting to the finish. A comment on Dave’s “philosophy” of the Sox: yes, the Curse is an important part of the team’s psyche, but so, right now, is trying hard (and thanks for the kind words about games 4 and 6), and once in a blue moon it pays off. Like being the only team to force a Game 7 after being 0–3 in a seven-game series. Nice writing about the game at Eric Wilbur’s “blog” (a column by any other name) at Boston.com. (Oh, and confidential to David Ellis: Nyaah nyaah.)