Fucking A! The Black Crowes were awesome[1]!

I must admit to not knowing much about them, other than radio name recognition, when I saw the ad in Atlanta Creative Loafing, but through the flyer I felt their music floating toward me through the hazy late-summer heat. There’s something just right about Southern Rock and late afternoon heat[2].

Flier

Atlanta had had some serious late afternoon thundershowers the preceeding few days which sent me scurrying off to Wal-Mart for a $3 umbrella as I prepared myself for a huddled down show. But in the end Sunday afternoon turned into a steamy hot Sunday evening as the hometown crowd gathered at Chastain Park.

Chris Robinson got it right when he welcomed everyone to the show after ‘a little monsoon’ – his gospel inflected vocal style present even in his sing-song way of speaking.

Gathering Storm

The Black Crowes are vaguely classified as a hard rock Jam Band. Jam is right. The songs are constructed around thick, scratchy blues riffs that are set up for extended jam opportunities. The guitarists invariably trade solos as the songs organically growing into the evening air. Even the drummer gets an extended solo as the rest of the band members light up a cigarette[3].

The show itself is stoner central with the stage covered in oriental rugs and a US love flag draped over the organ on stage left.

US Love

Of course there were some absurdities(this being America). Even though it is an outdoor venue there is absolutely no smoking allowed. What? We’re here to see one of the top three stoner bands[4] in the world, it’s a fucking rock show and there shall be no smoking? Are you fucking nuts?? About 5 minutes into the show the first plumes of smoke appeared in the pit down front and by the time the sun was down the evening air was filled with the smell of marijuana[5] and, surprisingly, incense.
But regardless of your preference for beer, water or weed a nite with the Crowes is all about the blues riffs and the jams. And from first song to last the riffs and the jams were as thick as the batter on Chicken Fried Chicken. I’ll stop with the down-home lingo now, but the whole thing was absolutely fantastic, y’all.

Great musicians, wild hair, gloopy riffs and the distant snoring of cicadas.

[1] I’d rate it up with Dieselboy in Cape Town and Takkyu Ishino in Kuala Lumpur
[2] Cape Town summer weather is just terrible, dry and windy. I’ll take heat and humidity any day.
[3] Or worse
[4] And they’re willing to back it up, and not only through their image. Chris Robinson was high as a kite throughout
[5] Let’s not be coy by calling it a ‘herb’ – these people were looking to smoke some major pot.

I’m in Atlanta for the coming week but flew in a on Friday[1] and so am spending the w/end in the city. I’ve been here previously for 3 days, but that didn’t count since on that trip I didn’t see anything other than the office and the hotel.
This time around I’ve had two days to see a bit of Atlanta. My co-workers were eager to make suggestions for what I should see in my two days at leisure; the Coca Cola museum, the CNN experience and Stone Mountain. wtf. Touring large brands or visiting a family-themed pseudo-outdoor park? I don’t think so.
So instead I’ve decided to spend the two days essentially doing nothing; hanging around in the downtown area, perhaps going for a bit of a walk in some of the parks, look for some doo-dads to take home. When visiting a city for the first time I really only want to get a feeling for what it is like to live in it and there’s no more direct an experience of anywhere than to be a little bit lazy and a little bit bored on a Sunday morning.

On Saturday I went out to the midtown/downtown area around Piedmont Park and then to the bohemian not-a-tourist-trap neighbourhood of Little 5 Points[2]. Both a fantastic, old neighbourhoods with great Southern-style homes set back under towering trees in the sticky hot morning air. Atlanta is very much like Austin – downtown area is great; friendly, slightly scruffy, bikable and green; the suburbs[3] are horrors; vast, sterile and accesible only by car.

Little 5 Points

However, the real knockout of Atlanta[4] is the music/theatre/entertainment that is both generated within the city and that comes through town in a stead procession of world-class acts. I nearly puked when ticketmaster made it very clear that the Dave Chapelle show on Saturday nite was totally and violently sold out. If a website could tut-tut it would have. ‘You expect to get a seat to see Dave Chapelle perform in the home of Southern black emancipation[5]? Bwhahahahaha, uhm, sorry – no’.
What I did get a ticket for is the Black Crowes at Chastain Park Amphitheatre on Sunday nite. Let’s hope it doesn’t rain[6].

[1] in part due to flight availability, but also because I don’t fuck around with jet lag
[2] which, despite its genuine best efforts, is a bit tourist-trappy. It reminded me somewhat of Queen street in Toronto – just a little more kitsch. Yes, it seems that urban Canadians do have a more refined asthetic.
[3] where I stay(ed) and worked in both cases
[4] as should be expected of a world city
[5] being the birthplace of Martin Luther King Jr.
[6] One of the nicest things the last few days has been the powerful evening thunderstorms and showers.

I love Thomas Pynchon. I’ve read only three of his books to completion[1] and one of those (Gravity’s Rainbow) left me so bewildered that I cannot reliably think about anything more than vague plot points.

By far my favourite Pynchon[2] is The Crying of Lot 49. It’s a punchy post-future brainfreeze of a novella more or less about an ancient feud between two postal delivery services.

The Crying of Lot 49

Probably the most interesting idea in the book[3] is that of the W.A.S.T.E mail system – about which I’ve written before. His ideas about surveillance and underground communication networks that manifest in things like the W.A.S.T.E P2P network are only now becoming a reality.

What I like most about Thomas Pynchon is the way that his work keeps on inspiring people to do unique, obscure and subversive things. A great example is the San Jose Semaphore challenge which was recently cracked. The Semaphore is a work by artist Ben Rubin which was commissioned by Adobe Systems[4] and installed on one of their office buildings.

The San Jose Semaphore

The installation is made up of four lights that continuously(every 7.2 seconds) change to one of four possible positions. The positions transmit a message – a semaphore. A public challenge was issued in 2006 to decode the message transmitted by the semaphore. A few weeks ago two guys cracked it. The process of cracking the code is astoundingly complex, involving codes within codes within codes.

So what did the semaphore transmit? The complete text of The Crying of Lot 49, of course.

The greatest measure of any writer/speaker/teacher/scam-artist is when their ideas continue to confuse and challenge people – when their ideas remain dangerous. Not only are Thomas Pynchon’s ideas still dangerous, they are still futurist; we are still waiting for their arrival in our world.

[1] Having also attempted and dropped Mason & Dixon
[2] Which also happens to be his shortest
[3] And there are numerous; the first mention of a full-time DJ, the first mention of all-electronic music
[4] Makers of Acrobat etc. and purchasers of Macromedia (and its Flash brand)

Following on from last week’s Maddox Jolie-Pitt extravaganza, here’s some more quality journalism – this time courtesy of Breitbart on the occasion of David Beckham’s scoring a goal.

It also ties in nicely with the continuing triumph of David Beckham in Hollywood. This time around[1] the story clocks in at a beefy 467 words, but, oh, what words they are!
I’ll cut to the chase.

Beckham scored a goal in his first starting game[2] of the L.A. Galaxy in his trademark fashion – from a freekick. The team management must have crapped their collective pants with joy at this – not because of the goal and/or winning the game, but because of the amount of press that this would generate.

Whoohoo! He’s so cool! We’re all on TV!

Back to my story – here are some outtakes from the quality journalism of Breitbart

Fans cheered and women screamed as Beckham prepared to take a 26-yard free kick. After he connected inside the left post, he was mobbed by teammates. Goalkeeper Joe Cannon even scampered across more than half the field to join the celebration.
[...]
Beckham waved to the crowd a couple times while blue, gold and white confetti fluttered through the air, reminiscent of the scene when he was introduced amid much fanfare July 13.
[...]
As the halftime whistle blew, Beckham bent over and adjusted his socks, then stood up, a broad smile on his face as he waved and walked off the field.

That’s it: he adjusted his socks – hot-damn-fuck!

More power to David Beckham, he genuinely is a star. As for the management of the L.A. Galaxy; it looks like their gamble might pay off. Beckham has been speaking more slowly recently, and at a lower pitch[3] – apparently so that Americans can understand him more easily. He is very, very well managed.

And the press? Readers get what they want and deserve. If mindless journalism didn’t exist we would have invented it[4].

[1] unlike the Jolie-Pitt micro-saga
[2] also his first as captain
[3] his natural voice is quite squeaky – very un-macho, very un-American
[4] as is the case with all ‘good things‘

I had reported previously on the 2006 running of the Nathan’s Famous Hot Dog Eating Contest held each year on the 4th of July at Coney Island.

Last year it was Japanese eating-sensation Takeru Kobayashi had made it six in a row by defeating hometown favourite, Joey Chestnut in a close run match. Chestnut was visibly disappointed with his defeat but vowed that he would be back in 2007, ready to eat.

Kobayashi Victorious – 2006

During this last year Kobayashi suffered an injury to his jaw which threatened to deny the world of the highly anticipated rematch.
However, Kobayashi showed his steel and once again, on good ol’ 4th of Julie, squared off against Chestnut for another round of dunk-a-hot-dog-in-a-glass-of-water-and-then-stuff-it-down-your-throat. The crowd knew that this could be a match of legendary preportions.

The Rematch – All the Action

Adding even more hype to the auspicious event was the fact that Joey Chestnut had recently bettered Kobayashi’s world record in a qualifier event in June. Kobayashi had it all to do.
However, on the day, after 4 minutes of bun munching the US dog devourer proved just too strong for his Asian rival – Joey Chestnut is victorious, returning the coveted Mustard Belt to an independence celabrating U.S of good ol’ A.

Chestnut Victorious – 2007

The Fox News headline says it all: American Joey Chestnut Wins Hot Dog Eating Contest, Shattering World Record.

And with this major win behind him the world of speed eating looks towards JC to take the sport to new televised heights.