Jon Spencer Blues Explosion Meets Rik Johnson Brain Explosion...

This afternoon, as I was listening to some of my go-to "concentrate on writing" music, that being the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion, I found myself getting a little more immersed in the lyrics than I expected.

Part of why I am able to write during Spencer's music over many other artists is because the main thrust of his music is not the lyrics. His songs tend to be exercises in style and rhythm over saying anything even remotely profound. His music is based in rhythm and blues, but with a very punky edge, a massive dose of ironic detachment, and a wild, often non-PC sense of humor. Spencer often makes grunts and crazed noises into the microphone (a la Lux Interior) just before whipping off another frenzied run of squalling, squealing guitar notes.

When I listen to music casually, I tend to concentrate first on the lyrics over the music in most things that I listen to in my collection. But when I listen to lyric-heavy music while I write, I get easily distracted when I find myself singing along instead of focusing on my own words. This means that I needed to cultivate a certain portion of my collection that leans more towards the instrumental. And I now have a lot of options, running from Beethoven symphonies all the way to Man or Astro-Man (who have very few songs with actual singing in them), the group that is possibly my favorite all-time for this very purpose.

But Spencer also counts in that area, even though he does have lyrics in most of his songs. The thing is, Spencer's lyrics are often hard to discern, chiefly due to the wild roar he uses to shout over his most often very loud music. He growls, he grunts, he groans, he whoops, and he whines, and every third word or so on every other song, you might make out a line or two clearly, most often a joke that he really wants to sell you. I own several of his albums, and have listened to at least three of them probably umpteen dozen times or more, and I am still working my way through some of his lyrics.

Then there is History of Lies, one of my favorite tracks off his Extra Width album from 1994. (I maintain this album is probably the best entry point into his music, but others would probably point to 1996's Now I Got Worry, which featured the song "Wail" (which actually got some airplay and also some time on MTV. Or you can just listen to Spencer's wonderful song Bellbottoms, which is used in a major scene in Edgar Wright's terrific Baby Driver.)

While listening to History of Lies for what may have been the 300th time (but the first time in the Trump era), I was supposed to just let the heavy, rumbling blues riff that anchors the song wash over me and not think about anything being said while I attempted to concentrate on a piece I was writing for The Shark Film Office. But Spencer got the best of me, because History of Lies had some hidden stuff that was going to come back to bite me. And once that got started the writing stopped...

I was struck near the end of the song when Spencer invokes the number "45" in his final go at the song's brief chorus. Then I started thinking about the song's title, and then the lyrics where he says "You're still talkin' all that shit out your mouth," and then what mostly amounts to a series of insults, calling the target a "vampire," and then telling that person that he is "gonna treat you... like a stepchild."

I am still pretty certain Spencer was either putting down a past romantic partner or just somebody with whom he had a falling out or a long dispute. And the opening verse with the insults could be made worse if there something misogynistic in his threats. But there are no clues as to the gender of the target, apart from Spencer singing "between you and I, son" during the bridge before the brief guitar solo. The "son" part could even potentially make Spencer himself the target, as if this were his father talking to him. The song was released at least 23 years ago, possibly more, and so it has to either be about someone in Spencer's life or just in his imagination.

But then I got to thinking: so many of the lines in this song are almost directly applicable to "45". The constant yelling about lies over and over, having a veritable history of lies (no one lies more bigly), growing so ugly that the narrator can't even "look at you," and having bad blood within. BUT then Spencer invokes "45" right at the end of the song (though he is likely talking about a gun... or maybe even malt liquor). Whatever the "45" is, it is hard for me to not to think of the current ill wind blowing hot air in the White House.

What if, 23 years ago, Jon Spencer was actually a political prophet? Did he smell the foul stench of the rise of Trump from the distance of almost 2½ decades?

Of course not... I don't believe in that junk. I'm just having fun. But if you have never heard Jon Spencer (while knowing it was him) and his terrific band, here's the song on YouTube:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ctsJ3Pf8jQI

And here are the lyrics, so you can play along at home:

History of Lies
by the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion

"You're still talkin'
All that shit out your mouth
Come home
I been a fool too long
There's blood within
That's bad
You grown so ugly
Vampire
I can't even look at you
Stupid child
Why do you lie?
I'm gonna treat you
Treat you
Like a stepchild
Watch it!

You and I
That's a history
Of LIES

Late night
Hollywood
You're so alone
Baby, angels
In the sand
I'm on high
Where you goin’?
Understand
Let me tell you about it
It's hot
It's cold
It's hot and it's cold
And it sucks
At the same time

You and I
That's a history
Of LIES

Our bodies
Are made up of
Like molecules
Between you and I, son
There ain't much difference
You still got to choose

Come on!

You and I
That's a history
Of LIES!!

You and I
Forty-five
Sssh…"

Vote Jack O'Lantern, October 31st! #takebackorange

Because it is something that simply must be done. I was silent about it all through last Halloween, but now that another one has rolled around, I must speak my mind!

RTJ

Scalias and Arpeggios

My friends on all sides of the political divide in this country seem to have weighed in already on the death of Justice Antonin Scalia.

Some of the responses have been expected. For those on the left, Scalia represented a form of ultimate bogeyman — a monstrous villain who held the rights and freedom of various interest groups in check with an almost playful (and endlessly erudite) glee. It was not surprising to see “Ding, Dong, the witch is dead!” statements all over Facebook and Twitter, the social media equivalent of burning someone in effigy, I suppose.

On the right, the responses I have seen have been more measured, less coated in emotional release and more (on what seems to my eyes) to be a concentrated effort to make themselves look like the better person for not reveling in the death of someone on the other side of the political tug of war that this country has become.

If you don’t like how I just worded that, keep in mind that before I am (politically) a liberal, I am a cynic. It takes a lot for me to trust even a little of what I read on Facebook, unless the people that are saying those things are my actual friends. And not just “friends” in Facebook parlance, which often means mere acquaintances, the acquaintances of your actual friends, or relatives that you haven’t seen in years and that you have barely made the effort to know at all. But I know that some of these responses are driven purely by the character of certain friends, such as my dear pal Shane's response (below), which is in keeping with how I know the man and his open and good heart. Politically, theologically, artistically, and philosophically, Shane and I may not agree on very much at all. But we both love monster movies and a cold Dr. Pepper, so why should all this other junk matter?

I will admit, when I received the news by text that Scalia had died yesterday, my immediate reaction was “Wow!” I thought of the open spot on the Supreme Court, and how hard it is going to be to fill that seat — not just by Obama, but possibly by his replacement, should the very obviously prolonged battle to fill it take that long. I also thought, “Scalia was a fucking asshole,” but I refrained (until now, I guess) from posting it on social media. Of course, I didn’t know actually know the guy. I was mainly basing my opinion on years of what I saw online, on television, and in newspapers and magazines. Oh yeah, and on his court record. I can’t tell you if he was actually a jerk in real life, or just a highly educated, highly experienced guy who held different opinions than me generally. Besides, many people consider me a fucking asshole too. So, pot… kettle… black. Who am I to judge?

Please bear in mind, just a few short weeks ago, a huge cross-section of humanity seemed to have forgotten all this political folderol and joined hands (figuratively) in lamenting the death of David Bowie. We cried, we played his videos and his music, we posted pictures of him in drag or in movie roles, and we commiserated as fans of an undeniably enormous talent over his loss to our world. The refrain that I saw many times over the course of a few days was (in various configurations, but summarized here): “Why did David Bowie have to die? Why didn’t God take one of the world’s biggest assholes instead, like Trump or Manson?”

The problem in a statement like this is two-fold. One, assholes have fans too. For reasons absolutely unclear to me, a lot of people love Trump, as we have been discovering (sadly). Manson was a murderous charismatic who wanted to start a race war and he still holds a strange ability to mesmerize people. Two, not everybody liked David Bowie. A lot of people thought he was weird, didn’t like his music, and didn’t like his flaunted sexuality (whatever it happened to be at that point in time). I know rock critics who savaged him for years, and like any celebrity, the man has his detractors. There are probably people who will still tell you what a jerk he was for, say, not tipping properly at a restaurant in 1977 when he was all coked out one time. There are people who tell stories like that about every celebrity, artist, or politician, no matter how revered.

No one is beloved 100% of the time and no one is hated that way either. As Shane mentioned, Scalia had family and friends who are most likely greatly saddened by his loss. (Again, it’s a case where we don’t know them personally, so we can’t know for sure.) Yes, it is highly probable that none of his family members follow you on Facebook or Twitter, so the chances that they are ever going to happen upon your joyful ranting about “the world losing a rotten human being” is pretty slim.

But the thing about social media is that it is “social”. Things get retweeted and passed around. Eventually, the media picks up on them, and often reports items along the lines of “Twitter is ablaze with people cheering on the death of Antonin Scalia!” The guy had nine children and 36 grandchildren, a considerably extended immediate family. Is it fair to them if news like this reaches their ears? Sure, you may not like how he voted on abortion rights, but it’s not his family’s fault that he was who he was. They didn’t sit on that court.

So, I might be happy that there is an open spot on the Supreme Court, but am I happy that Scalia is dead? No. I don’t like it when anybody dies, unless it is someone that I really, really hate on a personal level. You see, I know that jerk and when he goes, I am going to dig an extra hole by his grave so I can kick him in the side from time to time. But I didn’t know Scalia, so I shouldn’t have a care except to say I am sorry for his loved ones. It’s what we would wish others to say for us should we go. It’s the least we can do in return.

And for an interesting 2014 take on Scalia, read this article…

http://www.slate.com/articles/news_and_politics/jurisprudence/2014/09/justice_antonin_scalia_s_brilliant_liberal_moments_on_the_supreme_court.html

Donald J. Trump Revealed to Actually Be a Cartoon Character?

I'm not stating this as a certainty. I just think there is a slight chance that Donald J. Trump might actually be a cartoon character, due to his middle initial being "J".

Examples:

• Abraham J. Simpson
• Bartholomew J. Simpson
• Bullwinkle J. Moose
• Elmer J. Fudd
• Homer J. Simpson
• Hubert J. Farnsworth
• Marge J. Simpson
• Michigan J. Frog
• Philip J. Fry
• Phineas J. Whoopee
• Rocket J. Squirrel
• Sheldon J. Plankton
• Simple J. Malarkey
• Stimpson J. Cat

Yes, Trump has an actual middle name (John), and only a few of these cartoon characters also have middle names. However, that doesn't erase the fact that he acts far more cartoonish than some of these characters. And anyone falling for his bullshit is clearly living a rich fantasy life (though not nearly as rich as Donald J. Trump).

In the United States Constitution, Article II, Section 1, Clause 5, it reads:

"No Person except a natural born Citizen, or a Citizen of the United States, at the time of the Adoption of this Constitution, shall be eligible to the Office of President; neither shall any Person be eligible to that Office who shall not have attained to the Age of thirty five Years, and been fourteen Years a Resident within the United States."

So, as long as we can prove that he is the creation of some mad cartoonist's pen-and-ink scrawling sent to run amok amongst us Ko-Ko the Clown-style, we can wrap this thing up and get the real election process moving.