Marcel Marceau’s Greatest Hits!

As The Apple Turns points out some of the amusing things that happen on the iTunes Music Store:

Yesterday we mentioned in passing that faithful viewer djsteve had purchased a track that cost him the “best 99 cents [he’d] ever spent.” The joke, of course, was that it was the second track from The Whitey Album by Ciccone Youth, which consists of a minute and three seconds’ worth of silence. To tell you the truth, while we’re amused by the fact that Apple is charging 99 cents for a song full o’ nothing, we’re even more amused by the fact that said track contains the usual digital rights management code to prevent you from playing it on any unauthorized systems. And the most amusing thing of all, of course, is that the song has a thirty-second preview.

Well, as it turns out, the Ciccone Youth track is by no means the only all-silent untune for sale at the iTMS; faithful viewers ben, Scott Levin, and Michael Wyszomierski contributed their own suggestions, too. And you know how Apple recently added a bunch of “iTunes Essentials” playlists to the store, such as “Cover Songs” and “’70s AM Radio Classics”? Well, we’ve compiled all the silent tracks we managed to scrape together into the first AtAT Essentials playlist, “To Be Played At Maximum Volume.”

Turn it up! Turn it up!!!!!

iTunes: “Papa Was A Rolling Stone” by Kickshaw from the album Superstar (1999, 6:45).

Only Just Beginning

Only Just Beginning

Jason Webley has a new CD coming out.

There once was a boy who remembered that his heart did not ever really belong to him.

So he tried to give it back to the sky.

The CD will be in stores May 11th, with a CD release party April 30th kicking off this summer’s round of touring.

(via Mike [See you at the release party?])

That’s no pastie!

Janet's not happy

I’ve been reading various accounts of yesterday’s “accident” during the SuperBowl when Justin Timberlake removed part of Janet Jackson’s top, exposing one of her breasts on live television. Viacom, CBS, and MTV are all madly apologizing, and apparently there is going to be an FCC investigation into the incident.

An outraged Federal Communications Commission Chairman Michael Powell on Monday ordered an investigation into the broadcast of the Super Bowl’s halftime entertainment show, during which singer Janet Jackson’s right breast was exposed.

During the break in the National Football League’s championship game, pop singer Justin Timberlake reached for Jackson as they sang a duet and tore open part of her black leather bustier.

“That celebration was tainted by a classless, crass and deplorable stunt,” Powell said in a statement. “Our nation’s children, parents and citizens deserve better.”

I’ve got to admit, in some ways, this whole thing has been amusing me to no end.

In the middle of a heavily-publicized violent sports event (maybe not as overtly violent as boxing, but when many players are injured and hospitalized each year, sometimes gravely so, we’re not talking tiddlywinks), in the midst of a halftime show known for excess and pushing the boundaries, the world got a momentary one-or-two second (accidental?) glimpse of a single breast.

One breast. A couple seconds. And it’s instant controversy.

Roughly half the world’s post-pubescent population already has two breasts of their very own, and I’m assuming that unless they ensure that all lights are off every time they get dressed or take a shower, they’ve probably already seen those; and the other half of the population generally spends a fair amount of their waking hours trying to find ways to see those breasts that they don’t have! This isn’t exactly a new thing, folks.

Ah, well — my views aren’t about to change anyone’s mind. Still, I’m constantly frustrated by a culture that glorifies violence and vilifies sexuality (unless it’s being used to sell something). Seems pretty backwards. But that’s just me.

One thing I just noticed this morning, though. When I first saw pictures of the dastardly deed last night, it looked for all the world like Janet was wearing a pastie on the exposed breast — which, when combined with the conveniently detachable breast cup, definitely called into doubt the “accidental” nature of the flash. This morning Drudge Report posted some better-quality images though, and when zoomed in, it’s apparent that it’s not a pastie — but rather a nipple piercing with a silver sun shield around it.

Okay, so maybe it was accidental. I’ve gotta say, though –decent taste in body jewelry. Good for her!

Update: Lane posted video footage — that does not look “accidental” to me!

Living my dreams

For years, as I was growing up, I’d watch various sci-fi near-future films like Freejack, Strange Days, or any number of others where at some point in the movie, for one reason or another (quite likely more for a good soundtrack and/or good eye candy than for any reason really related to the plot) the main character would have to go into a dance club. The club would invariably be dimly lit, hazy, reverberating with pounding electronic beats, and packed wall-to-wall with beautiful people in incredible outfits that were usually some variation of leather or vinyl, often titillating or outright revealing.

I’d always see these scenes and replay them over and over in my head or on tape when they were released for rent, drinking up every detail. These were the clubs I wanted to go to. I wanted to be one of those people, walking through the crowds, relishing the mix of dark sensuality and sexuality that the scenes presented. Where in the movies, these scenes were usually played to put the main character (and, by extension, the audience) out of their element and at some level ill at ease, all I wanted to do was step through the screen and join in the party.

Anchorage being Anchorage, of course, for me it was nothing more than a fantasy. I did my best to find the music, and didn’t to too terribly shabbily — in junior high, when nearly everyone I knew was listening to Whitney Houston, DeBarge, and Bon Jovi on the pop stations, I was digging through the racks of tapes in the store to find Men Without Hats, Shriekback, and Depeche Mode. The only songs on the radio at that period that ever really caught my ear are those that now often get lumped into the “New Wave” category — Pet Shop Boys, Orchestral Maneuvers in the Dark, and so on. Soft Cell hit big with ‘Tainted Love‘, and I discovered that the rest of that album, Non Stop Erotic Cabaret, was far more interesting than that simple pop song, with gems such as ‘Seedy Films’ and ‘Sex Dwarf‘ finding their way into my world.

I just want to quickly say how insanely impressed I am with how many of the artists I’ve mentioned in this post are available on the iTunes Music Store. Sometimes it’s just an album or a few songs, but almost every one of these links is a working iTMS link, and even though many of these artists are the more “popular” artists of the alternative scene, I’m still quite surprised that I found as many as I did. Kudos to Apple and the music companies both. As the years went on, I continued to focus only lightly on pop, finding myself drawn more and more into the worlds of ‘alternative’ and industrial music. Siouxsie and the Banshees, Bauhaus, Ministry, The Cure, Primus, The Violent Femmes, Nitzer Ebb, Sisters of Mercy, Peter Murphy, Love and Rockets, My Life With the Thrill Kill Kult — here was the music that meant something to me. Not the processed pablum that the top-40 radio stations tried desperately to convince us that we had to buy, but the darker, twisted, charged, sometimes violent but often tongue-in-cheek wierdness that would never be popular. I loved it all.

So I’d found the music. To give Anchorage its credit, we tried the clubs. The first I ever found was Sharkey’s, a split-level non-alcoholic teen club with top-40 and hip-hop upstairs and alternative and industrial down in the basement. It was the perfect introduction to that world for me. Suddenly, I discovered that even in Anchorage, there were more people like me, and every weekend, this unfinished basement of a building in downtown Anchorage would fill with all the rest of Anchorage’s burgeoning alternative population. There was a big concrete support pillar right in the middle of the dance floor, and while most of the time it just stood there, any time a good ‘mosh’ song started pounding out of the speakers — Ministry‘s ‘Jesus Built my Hotrod‘, for example — suddenly there’d be a mass of people circling around and around the floor, with the pole at the center of the circle, all of us building up momentum until someone got crazy enough to turn around and suddenly start pushing through the opposite direction. Sure, there were occasional bruises when bodies collided, but never any violence, and it was all in fun — we knew exactly what we were in for, and if someone ever tripped and fell or got knocked down, immediately there were arms and hands all around hauling them back up and tossing them right back in the press.

Eventually, Sharkey’s closed, and Anchorage worked its way through club after club. I was fortunate enough to be the DJ at quite a few of them in the 1990’s, and some of my fondest memories from my time in Anchorage are from those days. Standing in the DJ booth, looking out over a sea of bodies dancing and having fun, watching people try to leave the dance floor only to have them run right back on when the next song came on, laughing as they cursed me with a grin on their face because I wouldn’t let them rest. Feeling the energy of the club at its peak — watching the bodies move, knowing that they were there, dancing and having fun because I was giving them what they wanted, getting the charge off of the atmosphere. It’s almost indescribable, but I would leave the club every night incredibly amped, feeling like I’d taken all the energy generated over the course of the night and pulled it all into me, channelling it from the dance floor, though me, back into the music and back into the people on the floor.

Of course, all good things must come to an end, and as times and trends changed, what was left of the alternative scene in Anchorage finally gave up the ghost. Some people had grown and gone on to other things, others had left the state seeking bigger and better things, others had just disappeared into their own lives. Not long after that, I decided it was time to follow my own paths outside of Alaska, and I packed my bags and left, moving down to Seattle.

And here, finally, in a sense, we come full circle. In Seattle, I’ve found the things that had originally started me down these long and winding roads. Not only do I still have all the music that has found its way into my collection over the years, but after a long work week when the weekend rolls around, I can head out and immerse myself in crowds like those in the movies that had caught my eye for so many years. Going to the Vogue on the weekends is very much like I’d imagined these clubs could be all so long ago — the music, the people, and oh, yes, the outfits! The club isn’t as expansive or as lavish as those in the movies (this is the real world, after all, and not a big-budget film), but it has all the right elements, with the definite added bonus of being real, and not just a short sequence on film in a dark theater.

Sunday nights are ‘fetish night‘ at the Vogue. Most Sundays, as I’ve mentioned before, this just means that things are a bit less ‘tourist’ friendly, and you’re more likely to see the more extreme outfits on display (and sometimes, there’s not much to display at all). Occasionally, though, there will be special events going on, like tonight’s presentations by Blue Dungeon. Three times during the night, the floor and stages were cleared, and Mistress Blue and her troupe took over with demonstrations. While I’m not a fetishist myself, the performances are a lot of fun to watch, and everyone involved obviously enjoys what they do (and have done). Once the shows were done, the music came back up, and the floor was once again filled with people out having fun, dancing, flirting, and enjoying themselves.

Tonight, as I left the dance floor and stood against the wall, I had to smile. Years ago, things like this were nothing more than a fantasy, something I’d seen and knew that I wanted to be a part of, but didn’t have the opportunities to take advantage of. Now, though, it’s a fantasy no longer, but a world that I’m part of. A small part, perhaps — while I can go out onto an empty dance floor and dance until I exhaust myself, I’m all too often painfully shy when it comes to actually talking to anyone, and so have met only a few people over the past two years of putting an appearance most weekends — but a part none the less.

And try as I might, when all’s said and done, that’s cooler than I can really put into words.

iTunes: “Cuz It’s Hot (12″)\” by My Life With the Thrill Kill Kult from the album Black Box (1990, 10:17).

March of the Sinister Ducks

Some nights you just find the most bizarre stuff floating around on the ‘net.

Neil Gaiman had a song bouncing through his head the other day, and mentioned it on his weblog. Several people then wrote in to let him know of the location of an .mp3 of the song. After getting permission from the author, Mr. Alan Moore, Neil has quite kindly made the .mp3 officially available: The Sinister Ducks’ “March of the Sinister Ducks“.

Everyone thinks they’re such sweet little things.
Ducks. Ducks. Quack-quack. Quack-quack.
Soft downy feathers and nice little wings.
Ducks. Ducks. Quack-quack. Quack-quack.
But there’s a poison I’d like to administer;
You think they’re cuddly, but I think they’re sinister!
Ducks. Ducks. Quack-quack. Quack-quack.
Ducks. Ducks. Quack-quack. Quack-quack.

I’d never heard of the Sinister Ducks before, so after grabbing the song for myself (and being quite amused by it, I did a little Googling to see what I could find.

What are they doing at night in the park?
Ducks. Ducks. Quack-quack. Quack-quack.
Think of them waddling about in the dark!
Ducks. Ducks. Quack-quack. Quack-quack.
Sneering and whispering and stealing your cars,
Reading pornography, smoking cigars!
Ducks. Ducks. Quack-quack. Quack-quack.
Ducks. Ducks. Quack-quack. Quack-quack.

According to this English/Portuguese interview with Alan Moore, it turns out that this was a small side project of Alan, Alex Green, and David J. (of both Bauhaus and Love and Rockets) in the early 1980s, roundabout 1983.

Nasty and small: undeserving of life.
Ducks. Ducks. Quack-quack. Quack-quack.
They’ll sneer at your hairstyle and sleep with your wife.
Ducks. Ducks. Quack-quack. Quack-quack.
Dressed in plaid jackets and horrible shoes,
Getting divorces and turning to booze!
Ducks. Ducks. Quack-quack. Quack-quack.
Ducks. Ducks. Quack-quack. Quack-quack.

I’m now going to have this song bouncing around in my head for the indeterminate future. I urge you to download it and listen to it yourself — both for the amusement factor in the song itself, and so I’ll be happy in the knowledge that I’ve inflicted this upon other poor souls. ;)

Forcing old ladies to throw them some bread.
Ducks. Ducks. Quack-quack. Quack-quack.
Who could deny, they’d be better off dead?
Ducks. Ducks. Quack-quack. Quack-quack.
Look closely and you will recoil in surprise
At web-footed fascists with mad little eyes!
Ducks. Ducks. Quack-quack. Quack-quack.
Ducks. Ducks. Quack-quack. Quack-quack.

iTunes: “March of the Sinister Ducks” by Sinister Ducks from the album Old Gangsters Never Die (1983, 2:34).

Jason gets his heart back

Last November, I went to Jason Webley’s ‘Deathday’ performance. At the end of the performance, he removed the heart from a puppet figure of himself, which was soon attached to balloons and sent flying off over downtown Seattle. That puppet eventually landed in an alleyway downtown, and was rescued by an appreciative fan…

Chris Jr.: Something landed in front of me on the way back to the Ferry terminal…

Well, we saw the balloons land in the alley so we rushed to get them. They were in the alley, so we cut Jason free from the balloons. I have the puppet, along with the heart. I seemed to have lost the flag. I didn’t want someone who wasn’t at the show to take the puppet and wonder what the hell it was.

Jason Webley puppet

I was just going through the guestbook on Jason’s site, and it turns out that on Dec. 30th, Chris received an unusual package in the mail

I just got a package today (Dec. 30th), and a weird one, at that!  So I opened it to find Webley’s clothing!!!  And instructions which read:

  1. Remove heart from wire web.
  2. Carefully open chest.
  3. Gently place heart in chest.
  4. Light a candle.  Rest.

All of this is to be done on the eve of February 1st.

I’m sure Jason’s happy to have his heart back.

Now we’ve just got to wait until spring to see what else might be in store.

iTunes: “Sleeping Jiva” by Kula Shaker from the album K (1996, 2:02).

All I want to do is go back to bed.

I’m exhausted this morning, for no particular reason whatsoever that I can think of. Slapped the alarm for about an hour after it went off, and it was still a chore to drag myself out of bed.

The weekend was fairly uneventful — mostly just kicking back here at home, bouncing around the ‘net and importing a ton of CDs back into the computer. Nothing really overly stressful. I think this is just “one of those mornings.”

Hit the Vogue Saturday and Sunday night. The more Sundays I go, the more I think I prefer them over Saturdays.

Saturdays (and Fridays) are a mix of 80’s, 90’s and modern new-wave, gothic, and industrial, and Sundays are the club’s “Fetish Night”, with similar but slightly darker music. The biggest difference is that Fridays and Saturdays are more “tourist friendly” — there are definitely the regulars each night, but there are also a lot of the people who either just come by occasionally or are “straights” coming to get a taste of the scene. There’s certainly nothing wrong with that at all — most of the time the “tourists” aren’t too bad, it’s rare that they get overly obnoxious or offensive, and some of them actually seem to really get a kick out of the atmosphere and the music, even if it’s all new to them. It’s just that the club often gets incredibly hot and crowded. I’m usually not overly tweaked by crowds, especially in dance clubs, but I ended up leaving early on Saturday when it got to be too much for me.

Sundays, as the “Fetish Night,” are rapidly becoming my favorite night. It’s not nearly as crowded, which is probably due to a combination of it being a Sunday night (and many people have to be up early on Mondays to get to work) and the theme itself. The music is a bit darker and outfits tend to be a bit more extreme — it’s not at all rare to see people (men and women both) in little more than chaps and leather studded g-strings, “schoolgirl” outfits, bondage gear, etc. — which can be seen as extreme enough that it doesn’t lend itself to a “tourist” atmosphere. I’ve never had a problem with things like this, myself, while I don’t have any outfits along those lines in my wardrobe (I tend to neither be that flashy nor have the budget to indulge in outfits like that), I often enjoy the look of them, and many of the clubgoers are wonderful to watch (whether it be because of their personal attractiveness, their style of dress, the way they dance, or any combination of those). All in all, it’s a more relaxed night, and I’m enjoying it more each time I go.

I’ll likely not entirely cease hitting the Vogue on Saturday nights, as there are definitely times I like the busier, bustling atmosphere of a weekend night, and the slightly “pop”-ier music gets some songs in that I like dancing to that are less likey to show up on a Sunday night. However, if I had to choose just one night to hit the club on any given week, Sundays would definitely be my choice.

iTunes: “Godhead” by Nitzer Ebb from the album Ebbhead (1991, 4:29).

Announcing the…iHPod?

In an unexpected (and potentially extremely lucrative) partnership, Apple and HP announced today that HP will be re-branding and selling Apple iPods and including iTunes pre-installed on HP branded desktop computers.

Working to provide consumers with the most compelling digital content whenever and wherever they desire, HP and Apple® today announced a strategic alliance to deliver an HP-branded digital music player based on Apple’s iPod™, the number one digital music player in the world, and Apple’s award-winning iTunes digital music jukebox and pioneering online music store to HP’s customers.

As part of the alliance, HP consumer PCs and notebooks will come preinstalled with Apple’s iTunes® jukebox software and an easy-reference desktop icon to point consumers directly to the iTunes Music Store, ensuring a simple, seamless music experience.

ZDNet provided more details:

Apple will manufacture the player, which will not have the iPod name but will have the same design and features as Apple’s third-generation iPod players, Phil Schiller, senior vice president at Apple, said in an interview. Also, the HP music player will come in “HP Blue,” he said.

“The way we look at it, HP will be reselling an iPod device,” said Schiller, who noted that the device will display the Apple logo at start-up and will work with all of the accessories made for the white-hued Apple varieties.

I can’t see this as being anything but an incredibly good deal all around. Apple, iTunes, and the iTunes Music Store get a lot more exposure than they had previously with the bundling agreement, Apple also has a far greater potential sales base for the iPod from customers who might not look at something obviously from Apple but won’t mind looking at something with the HP logo on it, sales of both iPods and iTMS songs rocket upwards, and even more people get to experience Apple’s high standards of quality and ease of use. Talk about a win-win scenario!

(via MacRumors)