In German that would be one word

When I was a kid I thought Kraftwerk were the lamest band ever. Like this is what happens when you lose two world wars. That kind of lame. But that was a long time ago. I’m more sophisticated now, more worldly, more open to new ideas. And now I think they are just one of the lamest bands ever. But their hipster fans might be the lamest fans ever. Though nothing personal, really.

Saw some guy on Facebook begging for Kraftwerk tickets, screaming really, in all caps. So desperate. Oh man, I thought, get a life. Better yet do away with the one you have. OK, I didn’t actually think that. I just thought how sad. Demeaning yourself in all caps just to be able to sing Autobahn with a bunch of record collecting hipster losers who get a little too excited over silly assed Krautrock shit played by geezers old enough to be their fathers. In German that would be one word.

Ein wenig Hass ist manchmal gut, nicht war?

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Selfie

I’ve never taken a selfie. In fact I never take photos at all. I’m a writer, and there are rules about those things. I did take a selfie once, though, accidentally. But that was before selfies had been invented and I just deleted it. Had I known Facebook would also be invented I would have saved it, along with the cat pictures I took and would never admit I took. Those were deleted too. The fun thing about digital photography is the delete button.

I accidentally took a shoefie once, but shoefies still haven’t been invented so I deleted that one too. I once took an analog shoefie, however, and still have that one. There was no delete button then. All you could do was throw out the picture when you got it back from the Fotomat. But it was such a nice picture of a shoe I kept it. I’d put that uninvented shoefie right here, but it’s tucked away somewhere with a zillion other pictures of my past life and I don’t feel like looking for it right now. I’d see all that hair and I’d sigh and get all morbid and pensive. Nothing worse than a big guy gone pensive.

Like I said, I never take selfies. Look what happens.

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Charlie Haden

Saw Charlie Haden at REDCAT tonite….his last show ever, I’m told. What a solo to go out on, Blue in Green, all that emotion, that beauty, not a note wasted, not a note that didn’t grab us, it was nearly overwhelming. We let the last thrum fade into the air before bursting into applause. It was an oddly restrained applause, an overcome applause, exhausted applause. Goodbye class, he said, smiling, laughing–he’d laughed all night, laughing and joking and being funny as hell–and was nearly overcome once, remembering Scott LeFaro (they’d been discussing  Blue in Green, Bill Evans had said it was his, LeFaro said it was so beautiful it didn’t matter) and he looked about to cry at the thought (after laughing that LeFaro wouldn’t let him date his kid sister)…then after that incredible take on Blue in Green he told the audience that Jim Hall was dead–they gasped–and he nearly fell apart. All this emotion, raw grief, bewilderment  at how such talent could just up and disappear like that….we of course were all wondering the same thing. But he caught himself, made another joke, laughed, dismissed us with a whisper–that’s all the polio has left him with, a whisper–and then he smiled. Just smiled. Some smiles you remember, some in fact you’ll never forget. Not ever.

Glad I was there.

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