Danny Doom’s Booze Cabinet

So many famous deaths in the past few days, but the one that I took note of is Michelangelo Antonioni, the director of one of my favorite films, The Passenger. It is an odd film that I suspect most people would not like, but for some reason it has captivated me ever since I watched it a few years back. The story is, loosely, about a reporter who assumes another man’s identity after his death. Jack Nicholson, as David Locke, finds that he bears a close resemblance to this man that he finds dead in a hotel room, and so he seizes the opportunity to change, or escape, his own life.

The film contains little dialogue and moves at a snail’s pace, compared to the ADD-inspired filmmaking of today (it was released in 1975). It is haunting and beautiful and I think about it a lot when writing; I feel like every idea I that I have has this story in its backdrop, or its mood, or its sense of displacement, much like the final scene of Five Easy Pieces, or the eventual alienation between Sal Paradise and Dean Moriarty in On The Road. Why this is, I am not sure, but these are my points of reference, in terms of writing (when I say “writing,” I don’t mean on this Booze Cabinet–this is more comparable to throwing food against the wall–it is writing that most have not seen).

But this is not about me, this about Antonioni, dead at 94 years old, whose other films I have not even seen, besides Blow-Up. It is time to catch up. But back to The Passenger–if anyone does find themselves watching the DVD of this film, be sure to listen to the commentary by Jack Nicholson. The film is such that you could have the commentary on and still not miss much because of its quiet, slow pace. And I don’t know if he has done this for any of his other movies, but it is a treat to hear him bullshit for an hour and a half.

Finally, do not forget the beautiful Maria Schneider, star of Last Tango in Paris, who is cast as the “Girl” in The Passenger. I happened to come across this article by pure chance last week, an interview with the present-day Schneider, titled “I Felt Raped by Brando.” Interesting, to say the least.

UPDATE:

I didn’t even know that the Gene Siskel Film Center has been playing Antonioni all this summer, with The Passenger closing it out this Thursday. And I can’t go. Too damn busy! I guess I’ll have to have my own film festival, but it would be nice to see this on the big screen. And David Lynch!

UPDATE II:

Roger Ebert’s review of The Passenger: When a film so resolutely refuses to deliver on the level of plot, what we are left with is tone. “The Passenger” is about being in a place where nobody knows you or wants to know you, and you are struck by your insignificance.

Obit, today.

Glenn Greenwald today, in relation to the latest right-wing fake outrage (detailed here):

Right-wing troop-exploiters always reserve their most hateful, vicious and deeply personal attacks for soldiers and veterans who deviate from their political church–Jack Murtha, John Kerry, Wes Clark, Max Cleland, Scott Beauchamp. Similarly, the minute Pat Tillman’s political views became known, the use they had for him vanished (and nobody has less interest in finding out what happened to Pat Tillman than they do). As Digby points out, they “support the troops” only to the extent that the troops are useful props for their political agenda.

But, as Mark Steyn points out in The Corner, “‘Supporting the troops’ is the left’s slogan.” Ha! Funny stuff. Are these people for real? Mr. Steyn needs to check with Michelle Malkin on that one, amongst others.

As for Tillman, the story keeps changing, and it looks more and more like he was murdered, than killed by “friendly fire.” Which would make the Bush administration’s cover-up look even worse, in light of the way he was posthumously immortalized (including the nationally televised memorial service). If they knew what had happened–and you know they did–and yet kept up the deception in order to promote the war? Awful, yet not so hard to believe, not anymore. Goddamn, these people are criminals.

* You must listen to David Cross’ It’s Not Funny to understand the joke!

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This story is unsettling, especially since I regularly flip off people who drive through stop signs or lights, including an unmarked police car just the other day. Unlike the people in the story, though, I did not get beaten up. But I hold any person, regardless of status, race, or gender, responsible for their bad driving skills. The cops who did this are pigs like any other. They deserve to bathe in shit.

There’s an article in the Sun-Times today about a guy who rushed the mound at Wrigley twelve years ago, and now is making amends with a t-shirt slogan campaign, “It’s Gonna Happen.” This may be only interesting to those who know me well, or grew up where I grew up, but I know this guy and went to school with his brother, who was shot and killed in our senior year of high school (they were twins). In fact, I saw his brother that night at a party and was woken up the next morning by my dad asking me if I knew who this person was; he had heard the news on the radio. Very weird. He looked just like Jim McMahon (1985) and was probably–no, certainly–a bully to some, but not me for some reason. He bullied the wrong person that night, and was shot in self-defense by a guy in Oak Park (not a student).

Anyway, that was a long time ago, and so despite last night’s shellacking, the Cubs are gearing up to take over first any day now, and yes, I think it’s possible, it might be, it could be…It’s Gonna Happen!

Tonight at Quenchers, it’s a free show with our friends in Magnetosphere and The Trilobites! Milk at Midnight, fresh from windowless nights in the studio and drunken car chases through the valley, makes another triumphant return! What’s wrong with the youth of America today? Find out, at Quenchers, tonight!

A nice flat one at the Old-Timer’s Pub, before the Decemberists last week.

I rode in and went to change in the bathroom and realized I had two pairs of underwear in addition to the one I was wearing. Three undies, and two of them clean! I’m prepared for anything now. It’s gonna be that kind of day! Yep, it’s a Three Underwear Day.

Apparently this is what is called a “bleg.” Begging on the blog. Here goes:

So, anyone out there work for the Vic Theater, or have a friend at the Vic, or want to make a friend at The Booze Cabinet? Buddies for life! Beers all night!

Pearl Jam is to play a private club show before Lollapalooza at the Vic on August 2, and sure, I would love to go. Interested parties, you know how to find me. My love for you is unending. My love for you, I cannot deny.

It’s hard not to feel the pangs of schadenfreude in reading this article about the most unpopular president of all time. I mean, there’s not much else that can be done about him; he won’t be impeached, but at least you know that there’s gotta be some suffering going on, at some level. And, yeah, that feels good to me. I want that group (what’s left of them) to feel like shit for what they’ve done to this country (and others). They’ll never admit it, but you know it’s gotta weigh on them/him at night, how poorly their work has been received. Then again, maybe not. He probably sleeps like a baby, in a king’s bed, free of doubt. Bastard.

The historic depth of Bush’s public standing has whipsawed his White House, sapped his clout, drained his advisers, encouraged his enemies and jeopardized his legacy. . . “It isn’t just the Iraq war,” said Shirley Anne Warshaw, a presidential scholar at Gettysburg College. “It’s everything.”

The current president, though, has endured bad numbers longer than Nixon or his father did and longer than anyone other than Truman. His disapproval rating has topped 50 percent for more than two years. And though Truman hit 65 percent once, Bush has hit that high three times in the past 14 months.

As much as Bush advisers dismiss polls, their predecessors in the White House said public rejection invariably drags down the whole institution. “It colors everything you can do,” Donatelli said. “Psychologically, it wears on you.”

Caddell describes a White House down in the polls in one word: “Awful.” “People start going through the motions,” he added. “The energy is gone.”

- Disfavor for Bush Hits Rare Heights, Washington Post

I told Lindsay not to drive but she insisted. She’d been hanging out at the studio all night and spending way too much time in the bathroom, but we finally had to kick her out. The woman is a boor! Anyway, much was accomplished last night at Prize Beagle, despite the cancellation of our MaM-jo player. Rick started it off with a guitar part on “Leaning Tower” and he made quick work of it. This is sounding very good, this song, I like it a lot.

That was it for him, and so it was my turn to put some overdubs down. Oh yeah, we were playing out of a sweet Vox amp (it looked kind of like this) that has made me wonder whether it isn’t time to look into a new purchase. I took some pix, so I’ll have that up soon for the official record, but it sounded pretty good. I also found an MXR pedal in the basement to use, so we were set.

“Days of Chastity” was first, and so I put down a high jangly part for the chorus, then a feedback part for the break, then a single-note line to follow the bass parts on the choruses, and then a pretty finger-pickin’ part that opens and closes the song. Holy overdubs, Billy Corgan! Adam’s going to give us hell for that when we mix it down. Fortunately, that was the most extensive dubbing that had to be done. Next I did the part that Eric came up with the other night for “Less Love, More Acid,” and it was real easy. I had to suffer the humiliation of having two drummers (Adam and Eric) teach me how to play the guitar part, and wondered how long it would be before they started suggesting Neil Peart-inspired lyrics in the songs. “How about we do a little Ayn Rand tribute in that chorus!”

Finally, I did a crunchy solo-break-type of thing on the elusive “Crushing of the Bouquet” that really helped that song come together, for me at least. Now, if I could just get the right vocal part… That was it for me and we turned to Eric for some ghost drumming on a few songs. Explanation: we realized halfway through recording that one of his cymbals was cracked, and the good ears of Adam could tell the difference in sound (I don’t know that I noticed). So last night he set up a couple of cymbals so that Eric could play along, without the rest of the kit, and add some nice clean crashes and rides. It was funny to watch because he had to pretend he was hitting the snare that wasn’t there and kicking the bass that wasn’t there–basically he was playing an air kit, with just cymbals.

It worked out nice though, and after we got those down the night was finished. The songs are now awaiting some proper vocals (I get real tired of hearing my scratch track), so it looks like we get started in on that next week. Also, we’ll try to get our banjoman to come in and pluck a few strings for a song. It’s another busy week though, as MaM plays a show on Friday night and Adam heads out of town until next Monday. It’s a patient process this time around, and I’m OK with that. We still have another batch of songs that we’d like to lay down after we finish these (newer or still-unfinished songs and a couple of older ones re-recorded), so we’re just going along at a steady pace.

Next up: MaM rocks Quenchers on Friday night!

The Booze Cabinet is very disappointed in the news regarding Wilco’s show in Millennium Park. The price is fine, sure, whatever, ten bucks for the lawn, but no alcohol? Why is it that the stuffy symphony crowd can booze it up for free but the Wilco crowd has to have their bags checked? There’s that rock and roll bias that the city cannot seem to escape. No trust. What do they think we’re gonna do, get drunk? OK, sure, but what else? Be loud? Yes, sure, so what? Trash the shiny new pavilion? Maybe, but only if there’s good cause. And now it appears that there is. FU, Pritzker!

71 percent disapproval for Mr. Bush. So, what is wrong with that 25 percent (and 4 percent undecided?)?!? That’s still way too high! What, exactly, is left to approve?

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