ohGr / American Memory Project, Blender Theater NYC 12.04.08

Made it to the show this time.

I'll begin by offering an apology for the EXTREMELY poor quality of the photos. Luckily for you, there are copious photos from the tour already circulating around the net, and for the most part if you've seen one you've seen them all.

So...cold, windy rainy night upstate? Nothing to do? You can be at the Blender in about two hours, and the good news is you only have to spend about 5 minutes out in the elements. From Grand Central take the 6 local downtown to 23rd street, exit the subway, walk half a block west on 23rd and get inside, you're there. Sweet. There will be some very nice people there to greet you. Also to pat you down. If you've brought a nice camera with you, they will admire it, then tell you you can't bring it inside unless you've got a press badge / photo pass. Otherwise, no professional lens cameras allowed. If, however, for example you've brought your 12 megapixel cybershot with 12x optical zoom, that's perfectly ok, since the lens doesn't come off. Go figure. Anyway, to be fair they were very nice to me, and did keep it behind the desk for me, much to my relief, because I wasn't exactly in a position to go home, put it away and come back at this point. On with the show.

I went inside to stake my claim to a piece of floor as near to front/center as I could get. An interesting thing about going to a lot of gigs alone is that I almost always end up standing next to at least one other person who is also rather obviously on their own. Tonight was no exception, and I was actually sandwiched between two of them this time. The first was a rather shaggy, boisterous dude in a Ministry t-shirt with a few facial piercings and an open can of Beck's in each hand, from which he was alternately drinking. We exchanged a few pleasantries, during which I noticed with amusement that the three rings through his lower lip caused him to lisp rather comically, and that each time he took a swig of beer they made little musical clinking sounds against the can. On my left was a pretty girl/woman who could possibly have been 16 or 36 or anywhere in between. We didn't talk, but did catch each other looking a few times and spent the rest of the gig studiously trying not to appear as if we were looking at anything other than the ceiling or the floor or the merch table on the far side of the venue.

At last the lights went down and American Memory Project took the stage. At least, I think they did. The screen they spent the entire show behind made it hard to be sure. I could see Justin Bennet pretty well from where I was, but Bill Morrison was sketchy at best. And I guess judging by the heavy-duty visuals on the screen, you weren't really meant to see them. Anyway, I was pretty impressed by the whole thing, really. The visuals were great and the music was excellent as well. My respect for William Morrison as a musician has gone up several notches since last night, and while I'd seen Justin play with Skinny Puppy on tour a few years ago, his drumming abilities were on display on a much grander scale here (and later with ohGr as well) than anything I'd seen before. The guy is GOOD. And must've been exhausted by the end of the night. So as a veteran of uncounted hundreds of gigs, 99% of which were supported by bands that made me wish I'd brought something to throw at them, AMP were a pleasant surprise. And god bless 'em, they didn't drag it out too long, either.

Now the obligatory "wait for the headliner to get it together and hit the stage" bit. Lights back on, check out the merch table and look at all the things I'd like to have but didn't bring any cash to buy. My shaggy friend, who was pretty well innebriated at this point, clapped me on the arm and told me very amiably "jusht to warn you man, when ohGr getsh on shtage I'll be dancin! I get movin around pretty good sho if I bump ya or anything I'll jusht apologishe in advansh. Jusht give me a good kick if you want, man." So I thanked him for the warning just as if I'd never been to a gig before in my entire life and if he hadn't let me know, why I would'nt have known what was happening to me! I talked with him for a few more minutes and clued him in on what to expect, as he hadn't seen any of the youtube videos or anything. On my left, the dance of "I'm not looking at you / you're not looking at me" continued gracefully, my dancing partner finding a piece of paper stuck to her boot at just the same moment I noticed for the first time there was a roof on this particular building, and became engrossed with the architectural details. Then hooray! the lights went out again!

Justin was the first on stage and the martial drum-beat opening to Shhh went on for a good 5 minutes before anyone else appeared. The kid's got stamina, for sure. The rest of the band emerged, followed by Ogre in the costume and mask that for some reason makes me think "Snot Man." I had seen it in several video clips and photos from the tour, so I was expecting it, but up close and live I noticed more details, not least of which was the security camera mounted on the torso-area, complete with flashing red light. Say what you will about the man, but for someone who's been in the business as long as he has, his creative spark hasn't dimmed in the slightest. He was under a sheet and had to be led onto the stage by the world's most cheerful-looking roady, but by the time the sheet came off and the band had launched full-bore into Shhh chaos ensued. What followed was a gradual shedding of layers of costume, mask and make-up, ultimately revealing the face of my hero of the last 25 years, looking like the world's craziest clown, a sort of Ronald McDonald in grey and black instead of white and red, a sleevless straight-jacket instead of the yellow clown suit. The soundtrack to this macabre strip-tease turned out to be the entire DIMD album from start to finish, which I wasn't expecting at all. Nearly all of the songs from the new album translated very well played live, despite a few moments where Ogre seemed to have forgotten a line or two. A few highlights from this portion of the show- Ogre grabbing cameras from the audience and gleefully taking pictures of himself; reading Bill Moseley's monologue from the intro to Feelin' Chicken from a piece of paper and flinging it into the crowd where it was likely torn to bits in the squabble for possession; Ogre throwing great handfulls of feathers into the crowd throughout Feelin' Chicken; The whole band coming out front for a bow and group hug after playing Witness and the end of the DIMD portion of the show.

It has to be said that whatever some people may think of the new album, Ogre's pride and satisfaction with it was obvious in every moment of the show. He certainly was in a good humor, smiling and laughing a lot, such a contrast to the way I've seen him so many times in the past. The band seemed very happy as well, and there was a lot of joking and banter between all of them. They played as a very tight unit and all seemed to play well off of each other.

After DIMD came what were, for me, the highlights of the whole show, starting with a version of Minus that could have peeled paint off the walls, followed by a seriously groovy set that even made me want to dance- Magik, Water and (my memory was getting hazy after a long day at this point) I think Pore. They came back for 2 encores, Lusid and Cracker, both of which were amazing. My only (very small not-even-really-a-complaint) complaint was the absence of Dog, which I really would've liked to hear. But like I said, no complaint at all. The show ended with a drum solo from Justin that just went off the wall, and finally slowed and slowed until it ground to a halt. Normally I sneer at drum solos but this was an exception.

This was the first time I've seen ohGr live, and the energy of the band combined with the pretty small venue took me back to the first time I saw Skinny Puppy back in the mid-eighties with Severed Heads, and sort of made me feel like a kid again, and reminded me of how glad I am that this man is still making music.

Scale of 1 to 10: venue - 8 / crowd - 9 / setlist - 9.75 / band - 11

That is all. (Wasn't it enough?)

Needles, Or How To Get Turned On At the Dentist's Office Without Really Trying

Some people like shoes. Others have a thing for feet. Some dig rubber. I'm a needle type of guy. Not like some people are into getting pierced, although that's pretty hot too. I just like to get stuck with a needle. This particular realization came to me one day as I sat in the dentist's chair about to have a rather painful tooth forcibly removed. I think I was maybe 15 or 16 years old. At the time I was dating my first (and to this day still the best and most interesting) sexual partner, a girl of about 17. Anyway, before he could pull my tooth, the dentist had to give me something for the pain, and this came in the form of a novocaine shot into my gums. What he told me was that I'd feel a bit of pressure and maybe a stinging sensation. What I felt in reality was a kind of electric shock that traveled all the way through my body. It was a feeling my body instantly responded to, and instantly wanted to feel again. He left me there for about 15 minutes, and when he came back, asked me if I could feel anything in the area of the shot...to which I immediately replied that yes, I still could (which was sort of a lie...but I wanted him to stick me again). He obliged by administering another dose. Sadly, I couldn't actually feel the needle this time, but the idea of it still sent me reeling again. Some day I hope to find someone I can trust enough to push a needle through my skin, maybe to pierce me or tattoo me in an intimate setting... I may have found that person, although I'm not sure yet. I've been keeping my fingers crossed. Till then I keep looking forward to my next tetanus shot or visit with the dentist.

Fiskill Ridge. Empire of the Ants. The Lonely Bulldozer.

As many times as I've visited Fishkill Ridge it never fails to fascinate me. The views are fantastic, the climb is moderate, and it's just littered with things to see, from the sublime to the bizarre. Kudos to Scenic Hudson and the people of Fishkill for saving it from the developers, and good job as well to Scenic Hudson for the recent improvements at the trailhead on Sunnyside Drive. The red overlook trail switchbacks up Lamb's Hill, a 1.75 mile steady uphill on a grade that is often deceptively mild, and will have you sweating and breathing a little heavy no matter what shape you're in. Parts of the trail are along rock-littered escarpments that can be slick after a rain or even on a particularly humid day. The payoff at the summit is a 180 degree panorama of the mid-hudson valley and the northern hudson highlands. On a clear day with low humidity, the views are far-reaching. Looking north, you see the entire long reach from the Newburgh-Beacon Bridge to the Mid-Hudson Bridge. To the west and northwest stretch the lines of the Shawangunk Ridge and the Catskill High Peaks. Look south and see the Beacon Range, Storm King, Sugarloaf, the Dunderburg, the Tymp, and if the air is clear, you'll see, tiny but distinct on the horizon the New York City skyline. The red intersects the white trail and ends at the summit. Hang a right on the white trail and you'll be headed off to Mt. Beacon, but that's for another day. Today we take a left and follow the white trail into the dwarf forest that crowns the ridge. The trail winds in and out of hollows, crisscrossed with a maze of unmarked trails, old farm roads and atv tracks. The sheer number of intersecting paths can be a bit mindboggling, but Scenic Hudson has done an excellent job, and the white trail is well marked and easy to follow. Not far from where the red trail ends, I came upon the biggest ant hill I've ever seen in my life outside of the Discovery Channel. No lie, the thing is at least 18 inches high and four feet across, dotted with what must be hundreds of entrances and brimming with little red ants hurrying to and fro. It is truly astounding. I had no idea that the little buggers that make the little hills in the cracks of the sidewalk could be so industrious if left to their own devices. Whenever I come here I can't help stopping to watch them for a few minutes, fascinated. I also must admit that it's a tad creepy as well- benign as I knw them to be, I always have a fleeting vision of them suddenly swarming me en masse as I stand there watching them. I can see the headline now- "Missing Hiker's Clothing and Gear Found Near Gigantic Ant Hill; Body Still Missing, Authorities Baffled" -I wonder who'd play me in the movie.


Moving on, as yet unmolested by the ants (and there are several other very large hills along the way), eventually I reach another intersection and another of the ridge's many oddities. The intersection of the white and blue trails, unofficially but universally known as 'Dozer Junction. Any question as to the origin of this interesting nickname is quickly put to rest by the bulldozer sitting abandoned along the side of what was once a road leading over the ridge from Beacon to Fishkill. This bizarre artifact has been well-documented in pictures, but I couldn't help snapping one of my own to share. I always feel a little sorry for it, as it will probably continue to sit there until it has rusted back into the mountain.

At this point I abandon the white trail in favor of the blue, a short connector that leads to the yellow Wilkinson Memorial Trail. A right turn here leads off to Scoffield Ridge, Putnam County's highpoint. A left, my direction, leads down to an escarpment overlooking Hell Hollow, one of my favorite places to sit and brood. A deep notch between the two hills, Hell Hollow is a wild, boulder choked drop. The opposite hillside is a sheer vertical cliff with hemlocks clinging precariously to the sides. I've sometimes seen ravens circling here, and many times have startled wild turkeys strutting along the trail. It's a lonely, slightly spooky and beautiful place that I like best when I have it to myself.

Shortly after leaving Hell Hollow the yellow trail heads steeply downhill toward the trailhead on Reservoir Road, after intersecting the lower loop of the white trail. I follow the white for a nice easy ramble along an old woods road before heading uphill one last time to Bald Hill, which affords an interesting vista that includes an active quarry and Downstate Correctional Facility. The prison view brings thoughts of crime, punishment and handcuffs to mind, which in turn leads me to a whole new avenue of thought. But that's for another story. Turning back to the white trail, I follow it back to Lamb's Hill where I pick up the red that will take me back to my car and home.

Total Distance- approx. 8 miles.
Lamb's Hill Elevation- 1,496 ft. with a gain of 800 - 1,000 feet.
Total Elevation Gain- approx. 1,200 - 1,500 feet.

Legendary Pink Nots, or A Day In The Life Of The Deviant Hiker, sans Hiking or Deviance

Yesterday started out normally enough. I woke up feeling depressed and wanting to get back under the covers. But I have to eat and stuff, so I need my job. I dutifully got up, shuffled to the bathroom, brushed my teeth, took the meds that are supposed to make it all better, and got in the shower. Dressed. Made coffee. Sat down for the morning pre-work ritual: Toasted bagel and yogurt. Open the laptop to see if I've heard anything from the only person I really want to hear anything from every morning (I hadn't).

Still, I left the house feeling better as the meds kicked in, but not as better as normal, which is usually a bad sign. I tried to shrug it off and reminded myself that tonight I was going to see the Legendary Pink Dots perform, and I was very excited about it. I actually finished work early, and went home to take advantage of the time by sleeping a little, knowing I'd not be getting home till the wee hours of the morning and having to work the next day as usual. At 5 I picked up my son and took him home, where we played video games until it was time to drop him off at his mother's at 6, she having agreed to take him early so I could go to the show.

Driving back to my apartment, in order to catch the 6:30 train into the city, I started to feel down again. Anxious. Thinking about what time I'd arrive at the venue, worried I'd be late. Started to think about people staring at me as I walked in late to the gig. Ridiculous, I know, and I knew it as I was thinking it, too. Welcome to my world. I did my best to shrug it off. I parked, ran inside, grabbed my camera and headed down the street to the train station. I boarded the waiting train and took a seat, where I sat and felt the anxiety start to come up again. Suddenly, all I wanted was to be home with a cup of coffee and a book on my couch. I couldn't stand the idea of seeing people tonight, much less strangers who might look at me disapprovingly. I thought about how pathetic it made me feel to be going alone. The next thing I knew, I was off the train and walking home as it pulled out of the station. No gig for me tonight.

So now I've missed the show, and of course I bitterly regret not going. I've heard nothing but rave reviews from people across the country for this tour, and having seen them myself twice before, I don't doubt it. I know friends will be asking me how the show was, so to avoid having to tell it over and over again, I thought I'd just embarrass myself once for all to see. It may be time to make an appointment with my shrink to discuss this incident. This isn't the first time something like this has happened, but it's never happened before with something I so badly wanted to see. Hooray for progress.

How to lose friends and alienate people

Step 1 - Develop a peronality disorder. More than one if you can swing it.

Step 2 - Become irritated with friends who don't keep in touch as often as you'd like them to. Make them feel guilty.

Step 3 - Incite an argument over something stupid with one of the few friends who do seem interested in talking to you on a regular basis.

Step 4 - Repeat step 3 for as many friends of this type as you have.

Step 5 - When stressed and in need of a friendly ear, expect your friend to ask you about what's on your mind and become angry and hurt when they don't.

Step 6 - If not bipolar yourself, consider falling in love with someone who is. When they begin the depressive phase of their cycle and you don't hear from them for days at a time, this will help you to develop the feelings of neglect and worthlessness that will make you fun at parties.

Step 7 - Contemplate suicide. Cultivate your misery. Share it with others.

Step 8 - Become sporadic about taking the medications that are meant to control your mood swings and keep your emotions in check.

Step 9 - Repeat these steps as often as necessary in order to ensure a long and lonely life.

Some Thoughts To Start The Day Off Right

My normally hyperactive libido has been at a bit of a low ebb the last few days, and my thoughts have been elsewhere to say the least, which is why it's been a week since I set up this blog and am only just starting to write now. I woke up this morning thinking of the myths about masturbation that the religious types used to like to spread around in hopes of scaring adolescent males out of having erections for the next 40 years or so, and wondering, for the millionth time or so, what it is that motivates these people. I have a hard time in particular with the idea that anyone who believes in God could believe masturbating causes blindness- if that were truly the case it would lead me to wonder, why God wasted His time giving us eyes in the first place, as men as a gender would all be wandering about walking into walls and trees by the age of 10 or so.

We all do it, everyone knows we all do it, and hopefully we all know by now that no one has ever lost their sight because of it, or grown a thick pelt of fur on their palms, or gone insane. (That last always gives me a giggle as well- I think masturbation has likely saved my sanity in several long dry spells rather than the opposite). So why the taboos? Why the denials? I don't walk the streets of my city in a t-shirt that says I pleasured myself today, but if I wanted to, why shouldn't I?

I haven't forgotten you, girls! It just seems that in your case, people like to just pretend it doesn't happen at all, period. Maybe you're just not as gullible as boys are when we're young and impressionable and being led to believe that touching ourselves will cause irreversible horrors to befall us.

So today's thought- If we were to establish a 'World Stay Home And Jerk Off Day,' and everyone participated, would there still be wars? Would religion still be the opiate of the masses? Would anyone vote Republican ever again?
That is all.
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Why everyone should love Ernest Borgnine