2004-10 Vital Source Mag – October 2004
Technology For All of Us
By Lightburn Designs In 1998, Jesse ‘The Body’ Ventura was elected Governor of Minnesota, in one of the biggest political upsets of the late twentieth century. At the beginning of the race, Ventura had star power (as a long-time WWF mainstay), a simple, powerful anti-establishment rallying cry – No More Politics As Usual! – which appealed squarely to college students and Minnesota’s healthy base of Independents, a strong military record and two weak opponents. But it’s what he didn’t have— money (the big one), a physical campaign headquarters, limited staff, endorsements from established interest groups, an existing network of help and political experience—that left “political experts” scratching their heads as the dust settled and Jesse moved into the Governor’s mansion. Even though Ventura did not win a second term, his race shook up the political process forever, as the former Navy Seal discovered politics’ new “secret sauce” – mobilization of one’s base via the Internet. There, Ventura was able to disseminate his message at a low cost, collect campaign donations from average citizens, and build momentum for his campaign with his constant presence. For that alone, he has a place in the pantheon of pioneering political leaders in America. The steady growth of the Internet and its proven ability to strengthen grassroots political efforts has made possible the raising of millions of dollars for politicians of all parties and has created myriad networks of activists and campaigners. As the current Presidential race has shown, if you’re a politician with Washington in your sights, you better have a clear plan for using the Internet to your advantage or you might just fail. Dr. Dean’s Internet machine.In the Democratic primary race, we all witnessed the “Howard Dean Phenomenon,” as he rose from relative obscurity to viable Democratic Presidential hopeful through his savvy leveraging of the Internet. Dean’s campaign existed largely, at the beginning, on the Dean For America website. There, he was able to set his agenda and goals down clearly (shaping the debate for the rest of the pack), mobilize a vast slice of people who don’t normally vote and, most importantly, raise over $25 million, much of it in smaller increments over the Web. To put it in perspective, the average contribution to his campaign was only about $74. He didn’t win the nomination. But he did change the way politics in America gets done. Howard Dean opened up campaign donation to anyone who had a computer and a little extra money. While most of the candidates got the majority of their campaign funding from individuals giving at least $1000, Dean was able to get much smaller donations, but from many more people. On the other hand, President Bush has received 69 percent of his funds from those giving the maximum contribution of $2,000, while Dean got less than 10 percent of his cash from such large donors. Now, both Kerry and Bush are reaping the benefits of Dean’s efforts. The Kerry campaign puts their online donation total at $75 […]
Oct 1st, 2004 by Vital Archives
Jeremy Rottgen Sneaks Backstage with the Misfits
By Jeremy M. Rottgen We used to cruise around in my friend’s car before and after school, listening to the Misfits before and after school. Yelling at the top of our lungs to every song was a cleansing experience after a long, institutionalized day. In 1998, the Misfits consisted of founding bass player Jerry Only and his chord-pounding brother, Doyle Wolfgang Von Frankenstein. Singer Michael Graves and drummer Dr. Chud were new additions to the band, and maybe only a year or two older than we were. The Misfits came to the Eagles Ballroom that year with none other than Megadeth, a band I still emulate in my own music. My friends and I were pumped. A female friend of ours showed up to the show in a Marilyn Monroe Goth-type dress. The Misfits’ bus driver spotted her and invited her on to the bus. She emerged a minute later in tears of joy. “I saw them shaving,” she said excitedly. When the show started, all seemed calm until the howl of Doyle’s guitar ripped through the air. It was pure, hellish joy. I remember a girl with a fork bent around her wrist, scraping and poking people in the pit. Ouch. After the Misfits left the stage, I went to buy sodas. Maneuvering through the crowd, I looked up to see my friends pointing to stairs leading down to some mysterious location. Having no clue, I followed them, double-fisting two root beers. We entered the room at the bottom of the steps, and it blew our minds. As we rounded the corner we up on two of the very large men who’d just kicked everybody’s asses on stage. There they sat quietly, sweat pouring off them. Holy shit. It was Jerry and Doyle. When you think about “backstage” at a rock show, you think of champagne spraying, groupies floundering and things smashing. Or at least my friends and I did at the time. But this was not one of those dressing rooms. We stood there, trying to get our heads around our favorite horror punk band sitting around like a family in a living room. It was humbling to hear Jerry talk about his daughter and wanting to know what we younger folks were into these days. What else could we say? The Misfits and PlayStation basically ruled our lives. Jerry was very cordial, offering us any drinks or food we wanted from their table. After all, they weren’t eating most of it: these guys worked out … a ton. They didn’t fuel themselves with Twinkies and Cheeto’s. Jerry, tearing the tab from a gallon of milk with his teeth, offered protein shakes. “Dave’s got us on this Met-RX shake” he offered. To which I responded, “Oh yeah, he kick boxes.” My knowledge of Megadeth trivia still astounds me. I’m such a dork. Chud searched around for some ‘real food.’ “Here” said Doyle. “Have a roast beef […]
Oct 1st, 2004 by Vital Archives
True Artists
By Tom Smith Vera Deirdre has been lurking around Milwaukee for the last two years, dreaming up sonic reliefs of slow sad redemption with the deep, mournful clarinets of Daniel Fischer setting up the soaring catharsis of Rebecca Schoenecker’s sweet, melodic vocals. It’s a moving contrast. What’s special about this group is that they are true artists in many mediums, and they use this talent and taste to produce truly original works using words, sounds, paint or film. Rebecca is, in fact, preparing to open a show of her paintings and mixed media art at the Wailing Banshee Boo-tique on the corner of Astor and Brady. I met her there and was taken by her series of Memory Boxes. Rather uninviting paintings on the lids open to fragments of clearly disturbing prose and sketches inside. Says Rebecca “They’re from a time in my life that I had to look at, get past, and put a lid on.” This boutique not being a conventional gallery by any stretch of artistic license, I was curious to find out how she chose her venue. “In art school” she said, “they try to tell you that you have to show your work in galleries, where people who can appreciate it are, but I want to show where real people can see it, wonder about it, and maybe even buy it.” The band has tracked their upcoming release with the venerable Bill Curtis of Curtis Technologies. Busy guy, I’d say. They’ve added a banjo, manned by Eric Holiday of Decibully, to stretch the arrangements. Unfortunately, they’ve been held up by technical and personnel problems during post-production, but hope has arrived in the form of Bill Cicerelli of WMSE, who has agreed to tackle the mixdown. There is still no word on a possible release date. If you want to get a feel for what it will be like, be at the Wailing Banshee October 15th, where they will be performing live for the official opening of Rebecca’s show. There’s even word that drummer Kenneth Zanowski may show his short film Going Home. Has anyone else ever felt this way? Going to most “folk” shows, I’m left with the impression that Dave Matthews and Radiohead have conspired to destroy the genre. Most of it is either absent-mindedly meandering and pointless, or absolutely mindless and frantic. It’s like my dad used to scream at me from the back of the club, “Play something we can all sing along with!” I was about to lose hope when I received an invitation to see Old Man Oak at Linneman’s Riverwest Inn. The title might lead one to expect a band (as I did), but Old Man Oak is just one man; John Williams, a troubadour from the old school. His songs have everything you could hope for; a message, melody and hooks that really hook you. There is an ease about him that could be called the mark of the real deal. His songs are confessional, accusatory, and above […]
Oct 1st, 2004 by Vital Archives
Liberal to Progressive
By John Hughes We live in a time when our country is becoming increasingly conservative, or at least anti-liberal. As I noted in a previous Wayward Son, 40 percent of the citizenry now identify themselves as conservative, versus 19 percent who call themselves liberal. And the reality is so much more than statistical; an acquaintance of mine recently snarled with venom and called me a “tree hugger” when I questioned the legitimacy of the war in Iraq. Have you noticed this sort of militancy in your sphere of associates? In the 40 years since Lyndon Johnson defeated Barry Goldwater in an overwhelming landslide, it has become unthinkable that a liberal could so soundly defeat a conservative. It has become unthinkable and fodder for rage among the Clear Channel populists that one should even identify oneself as “feminist” or “environmentalist” or “pacifist.” The majority of people in our country are not just conservative, but angry at and full of contempt for liberals. Just listen to WTMJ radio if you need an example. Things are not getting better for liberals and their issues these days, but increasingly worse. Conservatives are growing more entrenched in their beliefs as their cultural dominance increases. America apparently will be a bastion of militarism, and of commerce untainted by governmental compassion or collective concern about where the free market might take us environmentally or in terms of equitable opportunity. Millions of people feel completely disenfranchised by this movement, but, frankly, don’t see a compelling and engaging alternative. What do we do about this? I have several suggestions, but will limit this discussion to one potent idea: that we draw a distinction in our thinking between liberal and progressive, and choose the latter. “Liberal” is now a word so tainted among most Americans that I propose we abandon it, as several of America’s leading thinkers once abandoned “anarchist” as a self-descriptive label. That latter word denoted a distinguished and elegant political posture, historically aligned with workers’ rights. But it began to be associated with fanatics like the Unabomber in the public imagination. Realizing that the storied term would be viewed with suspicion and alarm by most people, the grown-ups within the anarchist movement (like poet and eco-activist Gary Snyder) put the word on the back burner. They soft-pedaled it and opted for new language. This was realpolitik. It’s the same with “liberal.” The word connotes, to tens of millions of rank and file Americans, Michael Dukakis, Gary Hart, and Walter Mondale—wimps who love taxes and offer, as the Great American Vision, a network of bureaucrats regulating us from afar. There is an element of truth to the image—classic liberals have sought to have power centralized in the hands of the federal government, as opposed to progressives, who like to see power decentralized and in the hands of grass roots activists around the country. To be fair, liberals were forced into their position. During the civil rights era, Southern states were not going to relinquish […]
Oct 1st, 2004 by Vital Archives
Sally Timms
By Erin Wolf Touch and Gowww.tgrec.com Those familiar with Sally Timms’ work with the Mekons know her as an artist of creativity and charm, with a voice as sireny and sweet as a lullaby. Influenced by the Mekons’ drift into alt-country or “cow-punk,” Timms offers a genuineness to her solo efforts that is often lost in the Nashville scene. Her first solo country album, Cowboy Sally’s Twilight Laments for Lost Buckaroos (1999), included covers by Patsy Cline and Johnny Cash, offering up a bright, inoffensive take on typical sentimental material. Her latest effort, In the World of Him, finds Timms once again dipping into the pot of country influences, but meandering in a different direction with heavier, more thought-provoking lyrics and tones provided by a myriad of artists. This “theme album,” recorded with Johnny Dowd and his band, arranges songs penned by Mark Eitzel, Ryan Adams, Jon Langford and the Mekons into unique and evocative soundscapes surrounding Timms’ soft and emotive voice. In the World of Him explores, in a post-feminist sense, the perspective of men on subjects such as commitment, communication, love and war. Although a departure from her previous material, Timms, along with Dowd, manages to confidently create an album that is beautifully strange in its diversity of style and seriousness of subject. Beautiful in its blatant take on humanity’s natural tendency to despair—“Lord, Lord, can you hear me? Are your angels just children laughing insane at the fools we are as men?”—the album’s lyrics are dark and striking. Take it or leave it, this is an album that will leave the listener deep in thought. On November 21, Sally Timms and Johnny Dowd play Bremen Café, 901 E. Clarke St.
Oct 1st, 2004 by Vital Archives
October 2004
Dear Readers, An oft-discussed but little understood theory of Albert Einstein’s is that of length contraction, in which a decrease in length is experienced by objects traveling at a substantial fraction of the speed of light (at least 10� but only in the direction in which the object is traveling. Extended, this theory applies to time itself. Simply stated (and possibly somewhat misstated, so I’ll ask advance forgiveness from mathematicians and physicists here): if something is moving fast enough in a certain direction, it actually moves faster than time. I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately because, like almost everyone I know, I am overwhelmed by how quickly time passes. It truly does feel like the more we’re in motion, the faster time moves. The more we try to do, the more we are faced with decisions we must make that affect both our present and our future, the less time we seem to have to think about what we’re doing. Even though the physics of this phenomenon are beyond my understanding, I can identify with the thought that the faster we move, the faster time does indeed pass. I wish there was a scientific way to physically measure the speed of change as it pertains to both personal and global events and situations. If that were possible, we might find that we are indeed hurtling along at 1/10 the speed of light, the point at which time does indeed start to contract, and things are really happening more and more quickly. The next step would be to see if there was any way at all to slow the world down a bit, to give each of us more time to consider the implications of our decisions and actions. In practical terms, we could more thoroughly evaluate how our two major parties have switched identities in twenty short years. Mysteriously, the Republican party claims banner rights as guardian and gatekeeper of corporate interests and the moral well-being of all Americans, while the Democrats represent balanced budgets, global relations, smaller government and, most interestingly to me, personal choice and autonomy. Does anyone yet remember that the Republican party was founded 150 years ago, right here in Ripon, Wisconsin, by socialists pissed off at ineffectual Democrats and Whigs, both of which had become parties of complacent conservatism, content with the enslavement of blacks and the congenital economic and social structure slavery fostered? Abraham Lincoln was their leader. Trust buster Teddy Roosevelt was a Republican, too. My, how times have changed. And so quickly! Think about that on your way to the polls. Something else to think about this election season is the considerable influence of third parties on our two party political system. When we think about third parties, we think of their most colorful characters – Ross Perot, Jesse Ventura, Ralph Nader. But while no independent party has yet succeeded in gaining legal and financial status that would make it competitive with either the Democrats or the Republicans, some of […]
Oct 1st, 2004 by Jon Anne Willow
American Music Club
By Erin Wolf Merge Records www.mergerecords.com It’s official: American Music Club frontman Mark Eitzel now reclaims the Bleeding-Heart title for writing cutting and honest lyrics. Even under the long shadow of his Rolling Stone-bestowed designation of “Best Songwriter,” he helps to create an AMC album (the first since the band’s breakup in 1995) filled with heartfelt disappointment, frustration, pathos and occasionally insightful contentment. Love Songs for Patriots may seem like a Springsteen-esque title, but it’s a far cry from that. As Eitzel comments on Ladies and Gentlemen, “This is what George Bush should have said after 9/11.” More tongue-in-cheek than Jersey Shore, Eitzel reflects upon his own vision of the United States. Politics aside, he also remains America’s response to Morrissey, musing on love (and lack thereof) and life hardships, incorporating touches of rock, blues, jazz, pop and country into an astounding sonic masterpiece. Orchestrated by the original band members with complete fervor, American Music Club welcomes pianist and trumpeter Marc Capelle for an added twist. Harsher than previous recordings like Mercury and Everclear, Love Songs for Patriots focuses on Eitzel’s unique voice, more weathered than before—timeworn, life-worn, but completely affecting. Fuzzy distortion lends an air of confusion to complement purposefully plodding vocals on songs like “Job to Do,” while “Love Can Set You Free” captures a clean, meandering, acoustic guitar-enforced melody with an almost sweet hopefulness. Although Eitzel sounds pessimistic as he sings “…only love can set you free,” he also sounds as if he’s truly learned this lesson, not as if he’s simply waxing poetic. “I’ve been so lucky,” he concludes. And we’re lucky to welcome back American Music Club. On November 12 and 13, American Music Club plays Schuba’s in Chicago, 3159 N. Southport.
Oct 1st, 2004 by Vital Archives
October 2004
Families on the edge? Having read your article “Brave New Family” in your September issue, I can’t help but think you are missing out on one important aspect in the work-family-money triad. Authors Willow and Tomaszek spoke of the difficult choices parents need to make when it comes to working and raising families, and of the sacrifices some are making financially in order to have more time with their kids. Nowhere do they mention what is necessary to get ahead. Those interviewed seemed extremely focused on the present without mention of what it takes to earn enough for retirement, future college education for children, or for emergency situations. They describe families truly living on the edge, as when they described Becca and Joe’s only car being stolen. I don’t disagree with the picture that they paint. These are tough times and we all have difficult decisions to make about work and family time. Throw into that mix a need to think about future financial drain and the issue becomes even more complex. Denise Lubotsky Riverwest (Milwaukee) Kudos for Cosby Dear Ms. Willow, I am writing to comment and thank your writer, Frizell Bailey. I admired his comments about Bill Cosby. [“Cosby’s Clarion Call,” August 2004] Written with such clarity and to the point, I wish it could be reprinted and discussed in many publishing and other media venues. Sincerely, R.A. Holzhauer Milwaukee Love that new look – rrrowwrr! You almost had me fooled. Earlier this month [September 04], I went around on my customary hunt for a copy of Vital, but couldn’t find it anywhere. I was sad, thinking you had finally been gobbled up by some media giant or otherwise closed up shop. But then I noticed this magazine I’d never seen before. I picked it up and there you were – Vital Source MAGAZINE. Way to go! Jeff Reitzer Milwaukee Just picked up the new Vital Source from Ray’s in Wauwatosa. The new size is great, very nice use of color, too. I also thought the new layout was more logical and easy to follow. Keep up the good work. Jessica Wertzke Wauwatosa Props to the SCP Dear Lucky, Thank you for your piece on the difficulty of finding school clothes for children that are cute, but not “cool.” [“Slightly Crunchy Parent” September 2004] Anyone with kids, especially girls, faces this battle. But it was nice to see you treat it with a mixture of firmness and humor. I loved your “fashion code” for your kids! It was funny and too true at the same time. Thanks again, Lisa Maryland (by email)
Oct 1st, 2004 by Jon Anne Willow
Bjork
By John Hughes Atlantic www.bjorkweb.com It would be misleading to write that Bjork’s new disc is sort of an Icelandic spin on that Chant album that was such a phenomenon in the 1990s. Medulla is in no way churchy. I mention the comparison, though, because both albums demand that you listen with both ears. They are about the human voice, and both evoke some sort of inflamed Spirit, in their individual ways. Medulla, a visionary record for the new millennium, will no doubt expand the musical lexicon of its listeners. It certainly expanded mine. This music utilizing human beat boxes, Inuit (indigenous Canadian) throat singing, and choirs from Iceland and England, in addition to the writing and singing performance of Bjork’s inventive life—is thoroughly unusual. It took me some time to realize that what I was hearing on most tracks was profound and challenging beauty. It’s futuristic yet warm, postmodern yet sensual: a heart-stoppingly elegant, deeply subtle and erotic celebration of humanness. Unlike Bjork’s previous outing, Vespertine, which was heavy with instrumentation and electronica, Medulla is almost entirely instrument-free; a piano, for example, accompanies only two songs. The album has an organic, rich and compelling texture. It’s like a beckoning to your own primordial awareness. This is avant-garde music, and like most albums that can be so labeled, it may strike you as “weird” at first. (It makes Moby’s Play sound like three chords and 12 bars.) The considerable rewards will surface gradually, and for an hour, make you glad to be alive.
Oct 1st, 2004 by Vital Archives
Buddy Miller
New West www.buddyandjulie.com Nashville might not be what it used to be, but the city must have something to recommend it still, because Buddy Miller lives there. Perhaps he serves as a reminder—like better-known friends Steve Earle and Emmylou Harris—of precisely what Nashville used to be: a place where a man like Miller, who ordinarily wouldn’t get noticed walking down the street, could create magic from little more than his throat and his hands. Earle occasionally has credited himself with big balls (the phrase is his) simply for standing on the same stage with Miller. For his part, Miller, on Universal House of Prayer, displays considerable cojones by taking ownership of both the Louvin Brothers’ “There’s a Higher Power” and Bob Dylan’s “With God On Our Side.” In those two songs alone—the first a bluegrass-brushed gospel number, the second a spark that builds to an all-consuming wildfire in little over nine minutes—Miller encapsulates the best of American faith: its constant questioning doubt, its constant steadfast renewal. Miller runs through that cycle repeatedly on this album, through the songs of others and through those he writes (with Victoria Williams, Jim Lauderdale, and his wife Julie). Whether pondering his travels on “Wide River to Cross” or considering fate on “Fire and Water,” Miller always seeks redemption, even salvation. His music, which bears the sheen of modern country without the burden of its pandering, lights the way. His voice, which contains the power of experience and the wisdom of the country, carries him home. On October 23, Buddy Miller plays with Emmylou Harris at Lund Auditorium in River Forest (Chicago area), 7900 W. Division St.
Oct 1st, 2004 by Jon Gilbertson
Mike Watt and the Secondmen
By Jeremy M. Rottgen Columbia Records www.wattage.com Dubbed a punk opera on Mike Watt’s spiel place, www.hootpage.com, The Secondman’s Middle Stand is quite a departure for the seasoned bassist. Busting things down to a trio with bass, drums and keyboard, the formula is simple, but the outcome is huge. The inspiration for the album came after Watt fell seriously ill and decided to document his experience. The result is a very personal account that puts the listener inside Watt’s head for once. It’s quite a trip, even for the most avid of Watt fans. The album is divided into three sections of three songs each. Watt borrowed from great literature like Dante’s Divine Comedy to describe his death-defying journey back to health. You can feel the flu-like symptoms from the beginning with “Boilin’ Blazes.” The organ blasts from Pete Mazich keep things moving like psychedelic bombs bursting around Watt’s thuds. Odd time signatures keep the drums beating, mixing and swirling around. The dynamics created by these three is a testament to great musicianship. Songs like “Puked to High Heaven,” “Pissbags and Tubing,” and “Beltsandedman” describe his agony with the straight-ahead, brutal honesty you’d expect from the spiel-meister. On October 3, Mike Watt plays Shank Hall, 1434 N. Farwell Ave.
Oct 1st, 2004 by Vital Archives
