August « 2005 « Black Marks on Wood Pulp / by Corey Vilhauer

Hot Water Music

August 14th, 2005

All this talk about Rumbleseat and Hot Water Music made me really think.

For those who don’t know (or don’t care, but should) Hot Water Music, while not my number-one-all-time-favorite-band, has been one of the bands I have respected the most over my young career as “Music Listener.” Hot Water Music has unapologetically played their balls off every show I’ve seen and have put every ounce of their energy into their music, all the time. There is no such thing as a Hot Water Music “throwaway” piece – it’s all made to be listened to at full volume with all the energy you can muster.

Hot Water Music entered my life in two ways – a compilation CD and a good friend. No Idea released the compilation, Bread: The Edible Napkin, in a No Idea fanzine. I bought the fanzine and listened to the CD for the first time at my friend Jim’s house. I latched onto a band by the name of Christie Front Drive, while the good friend, Eric, latched onto the Hot Water Music song.

Hot Water Music then took over Eric’s CD player and, thanks to some well timed birthday presents, made its way into mine. From there they became one of my favorite groups – based on their energy and style alone – and I hold them very dear to my heart to this day.

So, upon buying the new Rumbleseat CD, I thought about what someone had recently told me – a vicious rumor that I had heard before but never wanted to accept: Hot Water Music had broken up.

It couldn’t be true. Chuck (singer number one) had reconstructed his hand due to a mix of drinking and broken glass and the band still trudged on. I’ve seen them play with broken legs, sitting on stools. This band was indestructible. They had nearly broken up once before, but decided against it in front of their home town crowd during what was supposed to be their last show – a show that was recorded and released as Live at the Hardback. There’s no way they could ever pull the trigger, right?

Well, sort of. I finally got around to checking the website and found this.

MAY 10, 2005

Hey, all, how’s life? Apologies for the lack of news lately, but there were some things that needed sorting out around the HWM camp. Things are sorted, so here’s your news—

First of all, Hot Water Music is not breaking up. For better or worse, it’s pretty damn doubtful that we ever will end the band. We will, however, be taking an extended break due to the fact that Chuck has decided to concentrate on life off of the road for an as-of-yet undetermined amount of time. Although it would admittedly be more exciting if there had been some grandiose blowout between the four of us over who drank the last Corona, there was no such incident, so we gotta go with the boring old excuse of family. If you’ll remember from physics that for each action there is and equal and opposite reaction, then you should read on…

As for Chris, George, and myself, we just can’t get enough of driving across Texas on I-10 so we’re going to keep fighting the good fight. New songs, new name, new band. And man are we fucking stoked about it. We’ve already written almost an entire album’s worth of material and we’re not slowing down at all. We’ll keep you posted when things start getting off the ground a bit more.

Well, that’s it for now, and that was a lot. Wollard, George, and myself are really looking forward to bringing the new rock to everyone just as soon as we possibly can and we hope that you’ll all be at the shows. They’re going to be sick.

Peace, enjoy the spring weather,
Black

Whew. They haven’t broken up. Technically.

I still can’t help but think I may never see a new Hot Water Music album again. I know bands need to move on at some point in their lives. Good bands, however, make good records, and good records make people forget what they actually are: a record of an event – the event of making music. It’s not a fluid piece of history that disappears when the band does – or for that matter an item that guarantees as long as the record is around, the band is as well.

Someday all of my favorite bands will have broken up, or gotten old, or died away. I don’t like to think of it, though, so I hold tight to the idea that every band I’ve ever liked is still together and is still willing to make great music for our enjoyment. That’s not the case.

I know I should let it go, but sometimes I just don’t want to.

Because if I let it go, what is there to look forward to?

Comments: 3

Issues Considered: Music

The Top 100, August 2005 edition

August 13th, 2005

Here’s a new CD to add to the top 100, bumping #100 off the list and back into obscurity.

Rumbleseat – Rumbleseat is Dead

Hot Water Music landed a few entries onto the original top 100 (from a few months ago) but one thing was missing: Rumbleseat. The band, which was a side project of Hot Water Music’s two voices, Chuck Ragan and Chris Wollard, is a sometimes folk, sometimes Cash-esque country outfit with the easily recognizable Hot Water Music vocals. I fell in love with the first songs I heard from Rumbleseat, but since they were all released on vinyl (and since I haven’t had access to a turntable for years) I kept up with the band through various horrible sounding MP3’s off the internet. Eventually, even those were lost. Now, however, the entire catalog has been released again (along with the original six demo tracks) and I’m one of the happiest people alive for it, regardless of the fact that it was supposed to be out a year and a half ago. Every song, from the Johnny and June Carter Cash covers to the instantly catchy “Cursing Concrete” to their magnum opus “Restless” is wonderful. If you like acoustic music, you should own this. If you like country music, you should own this. If you like music at all, you should own this.

And I hope that I make a mark/And stand strong even when I’m gone – “Cursing Concrete”

Spaghetti for brains

August 11th, 2005

Last night I found myself doing something I never do.

I watched television.

No, don’t worry. For the first hour I watched The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly, a pretty damned good western by legendary director Sergio Leone.

I had never been a western fan growing up – I think I was bombarded with the westerns coming through the screen at my grandparents too much at a young age to ever give them much thought – but, after visiting my grandfather and watching a few interviews about the “spaghetti western,” I found that the genre was actually starting to pique my interest.

On the way home we heard an interview on Fresh Air (an NPR program) with author Christopher Frayling about Sergio Leone. Frayling has written a book about Leone and about the spaghetti western itself: Once Upon a Time in Italy.

When I got home and realized that they were making a movie about Sergio Leone I decided right then and there that I’d better familiarize myself with his films. I had to be ahead of this Leone bandwagon.

As I said before, they’re pretty damned good.

Leone made westerns that were a far cry from “good vs. evil.” Instead, you’ve got shades of gray – the bad guys were only slightly worse than the good guys. The camera angles are ultra-dramatic, and the themes are either incredibly dark or incredibly tongue in cheek. Also, Clint Eastwood made his name thanks to Leone, so you should watch it just for that. If you’re a fan of westerns, or of movies in general, you owe it to yourself to watch A Fistful of Dollars, or The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly.

That was the first hour. The second hour was pretty bad.

I don’t normally watch television anymore – the rare baseball game or rerun of Friends may grace my screen from time to time, but nothing for longer than 15 minutes – but last night I did. I was trying to stay awake late in preparation of my upcoming workweek. I had to get my internal clock back on track, I figured, so I sat myself in front of the TV to watch.

I was getting tired watching my movie, so I turned it off and flipped through the channels. It was horrible. I took notes, and I will share this horribleness with you.

12:36 am: E! – Wild on Tara.
As if Tara Reid needs more of a reason to be labeled a “no-talent party-limpet,” E! brings us Wild on Tara. What is the show about, you ask? In a nutshell: Tara Reid gets paid to travel around the globe and drink at clubs. She gets very drunk, flirts with the locals, barely keeps her breasts in her dress, and then does whatever she can to bring attention to herself without literally yelling “hey look at me!” It’s horrible. I guess if you like seeing party-sluts prance around while completely drunk, you’ll like this show. If you have a thread of self-respect, however, you’ll turn the channel before it’s too late.

12:38 am: VH1 – Behind the Music: Notorious B.I.G.
I’ve actually seen this before, so I know it’s really good. I watched it for a little while and couldn’t help but laugh at seeing this big tough rap legend at the age of ten – still really fat, sounding like he has a mouth full of marbles. It’s interesting to say the least, and well worth seven full minutes of my time.

1245 am: NBC – Last Call with Carson Daly
Carson Daly is the worst interviewer I’ve ever seen. I watched him for five minutes, and the poor sap he was interviewing completely drowned – Carson did nothing to help him get laughs, he couldn’t for the life of him make anything this chump said sound interesting, and then ended the interview by practically making fun of him. No wonder Jennifer Love Hewitt left him.

12:50 am: The Travel Channel – World Poker Tour.
First off, the World Poker Tour is the B-League of professional poker. The no-names play the WPT in hopes that they might some day be invited to play alongside Jesus Ferguson and the likes. These are the REAL poker dorks – the ones who strive to sit at the table with the “semi-dorky” poker dorks. It’s like the beginners table at a Magic: The Gathering tournament – everyone wants to be sitting next to the guys with the card protectors. Secondly, the Travel Channel has absolutely nothing to do with travel. I was excited, at first, about the prospect of having an all-travel channel. Unfortunately, all they show is this WPT crap and 15 hours of “Haunted Mansions” and “The Worlds Grossest Jobs.” I am so pissed about the Travel Channel.

12:51 am: Nick at Nite – Roseanne.
Roseanne is not “classic television” yet. I feel so old whenever I end up on Nick at Night, because their idea of classic television is the stuff from the late 80’s and early 90’s, as if that was ages ago. The Cosby Show and Fresh Prince of Bel Air were both great sitcoms. That doesn’t mean they deserve to be called “classic” sitcoms. Here’s the list of Nick at Nite shows:
The Cosby Show
Fatherhood
Fresh Prince of Bel Air
Full House
Murphy Brown
Roseanne
Who’s the Boss
Wings
Am I that old? Bring back Make Room for Daddy and My Three Sons. That way I won’t feel as if I’m already 55 years old. If there’s anything that makes me madder than the Travel Channel, it’s this instant nostalgia craze.

12:55 am: ESPN – Sportscenter – The Hot Seat
Athletes are a horrible interview. They give boring answers. They don’t add insight to any discussion. They overuse the same tired clichés. They shouldn’t be talking at all – just catching, kicking, throwing, and hitting balls. No wonder Tony Kornheiser never interviewed athletes on his show.

I miss Tony Kornheiser on the radio.

(Finally, with that though, I went to sleep.)

Comments: 7

Issues Considered: Movies

When things aren’t looking up

August 9th, 2005

Needless to say, it was hard leaving Idaho this past Saturday. It’s always hard leaving close family after a good week of visiting and catching up, but this time it was a little different – this time it was as if time was truly running out, that every conversation could be the last.

My grandfather, as I have written before, was diagnosed with lung cancer a few months ago. At first things were looking optimistic, but in past weeks he has been hit with a few barriers – pneumonia, nausea, and non-recovery from chemotherapy – that have slowed him down in a way I’ve never seen my grandfather slowed.

Our vacation was planned far before we knew of any disease, but it took on a sudden importance as we learned more and more about how he was doing and how he was expected to fare. There were times that I felt like I was taking a pilgrimage, a last look at the mountain that our family had rallied around and built itself on top of. Most of the time, however, I just enjoyed the company. I hung out with my grandparents and acted as if nothing was wrong, even though it was obvious that something was.

I talked to my grandparents as adults for the first time, face to face, without any other family bridging the gap. I no longer felt like I was a kid coming to stay with Grandma and Grandpa, but as a peer, as someone who understood life (or what little I’ve seen) and could stride side by side with those who had already lived most of theirs. We talked about my grandfather’s condition and his future, but more importantly we talked about their history and, ultimately, my history.

I learned a lot this past week about my personal history, about Jackson, Wyoming and the valley it resides in. My roots grow very deep in Jackson’s Hole, from Elijah Wilson to my grandpa Don Boyer. I’m as much a part of that valley by association as any of the rich yuppies who live there now, I feel, and I enjoy having that chip on my shoulder. I’m proud of my grandparents, and I couldn’t imagine them being any stronger than they already are. They’ve been through a lot in life, and they deserve all the respect in the world.

I’ve really spent a lot of time thinking this past week – about mortality, about family, and about losing someone who I’ve looked up to all of my life. I thought about how my grandfather must feel when he is in such a weak state; a strong man who was always a go-getter being forced to accept his condition and the help that surrounds him. I wondered what my legacy would consist of when I’m his age and how it would compare to his. I kept thinking about what life would be life for my grandmother when he was gone. Mostly, though, I just thought about how much I would miss him – about how much we all would miss him.

So, needless to say, it was hard leaving. I tried to put a strong face on, but it only lasted until we were on the Teton Pass. I couldn’t hold it in at that point.

When the subject comes up, I really don’t have much to say, anymore. I think it’s more of a defensive stance, but I’m content with keeping it out of my mind. The stance doesn’t work that often, though, and I think about how my grandfather is doing all the time. I miss him already, and he’s still with us. I can’t imagine how it will be when he passes on.

I got news today that his chemotherapy isn’t working, and they’re going to start throwing things at the cancer to see what sticks. I couldn’t help but think of the last time I saw him, waving to me from the house, his face trying to keep the same defensive stance I had perfected for a short time. I couldn’t help but think of how proud I am of him, of the life he’s lived and the battle he’s fought recently against his disease, and hope that he’s just as proud of me, regardless of the path I’ve taken to get where I am.

Knowing what I know now about how much my grandfather was a part of my life, both in raising me every summer and giving me a role model to look up to, regardless of how far away he may have been, I couldn’t help but miss him a little more.

Comments: 3

Issues Considered: Grandpa Boyer

Etc. Magazine, try number two

August 8th, 2005

Well, I’m back.

I had a lot of fun in Idaho (and Wyoming, and western South Dakota,) and, aside from the drive home, everything was how I imagined a perfect week long vacation to be.

However, instead of letting you know what I did (which I may or may not do over the next few days) I would like to express my frustration in trying to get published in our town’s monthly free magazine – the Etc. Magazine.

Etc. is the magazine that filled the hole left by the Venture magazine when it died years ago. It’s subjects range from television and movie reviews to Sioux Falls history. Music, wine – even cigars – get their fair share of the magazine. But, aside from a recent article on “rock and roll” literature by Scott Hudson, there is little to no mention of the oldest and grandest form of media – books.

So, thinking that a magazine like this should have a book article every month, I sent my monthly “My Very Own Polysyllabic Spree” column to the editor to review. I assumed that, since they had no regular literature section, I would be welcomed with open arms. After all – this is no ordinary “read a book and write a review” column. My column makes the act of reading a living thing, showing how certain books lead to others. More importantly, it shows how the average person buys more books than they have the ability to read.

I heard no response.

I shouldn’t be surprised. I sent it to the editor instead of through the “submissions” e-mail address, and I suppose it was pretty egotistical to think that the editor was interested in an unproven writer who had written only three months worth of articles. Still (and this may be where I’m utterly naïve of the publication process) I assumed that I would get an e-mail back. Something along the lines of “thanks for your submission, but you suck. Good day.”

When I picked up the Etc. this last week, though, I noticed that they were changing their format and that there would be new monthly columns.

Thinking I had a new chance, I sent my idea out again – this time through submissions, and this time asking them to at least e-mail me back and let me know that they received the attachments.

I’m hoping for the best, but expecting the worst. By the “worst,” I mean “nothing at all.” I’m pretty new on the scene to have a regular monthly column, but I believe (regardless of the lack of feedback I get from it every month) that I’ve got a pretty good thing going with the monthly book report.

We’ll see what the Etc. Magazine thinks, I guess.

Comments: 7

Issues Considered: Writing

I’m almost home

August 7th, 2005

Hopefully by the time this posts I’ll be on my way back from a wonderful vacation. Imagine me in a car driving down Interstate 90 — that’s probably where I’ll be.

I’ll be back to my normal posting schedule on Monday, I’m guessing, and you won’t have to deal with the pre-packaged time-release posts anymore.

On England

August 5th, 2005

Why am I such a hopeless anglophile?

I wrote about it “back in the day.”

———————-

I think it’s due to the brevity of the occasion – ten days in Europe: six in England and four in France. I also think it’s due to the circumstances – ten days with Kerrie, July 7th to July 17th; a birthday present and long awaited visit. Both of these made me stand in awe at most that I experienced. The reasons behind the stick – the holding fast of “ye ol’ Anglia” still confuse me. Why England? Why not India or Prussia or Eastern Texas? Why not something close to the Queen Bee Mill?

I know the fascination started early. My mother was a closet “anglophile,” drawn to the more British things on the television dial. It stems, I feel, from the accessibility of British culture, the familiarity and differences combined. A person can grasp the culture so easily because of its close parallels to an American one. Similar language, similar foods, and similar – nearly identical – ancestry put less fear into the English culture. There’s little to learn and nothing unfamiliar to jar Americans in their all-too-consistent worlds.

So, for some oddly exotic reason, British media is shown in the U.S. as a higher-brow form of entertainment. Therefore, as I was bred on English mystery programs and raised on late 70’s English rock, the vision of the U.K. as intellectual capital (and the “place to be”) grew.

Later, as I reached high school level, I began to latch on (after my punk phase and before my emo phase) to 60’s-70’s rock – late era Beatles, Pink Floyd, the Who – and also discovered the high-brow yet low and subtle humor of Monty Python. These shows formed the visual background to my thoughts of London: village-like and cozy, reserved and quirky. My love of England sprouted primarily from the humor of the island. Through this humor (and one movie in particular) the love turned into a past time.