Longtime readers, all two of you, will remember that I bought a guitar a few years ago. Sadly, my plans to launch a Moss Icon-y (Moss Iconic?) band died before they were born. Which, when you think about it, is right in line with all of the together-for-ten-minutes bands that came out of the mid-90s hardcore scene, so I guess I did that right.
Anyway, I had to sell my guitar to help pay for my move to California. It was unfortunate, but not emotional. In a way, I was happy to see it go, because it represented failure. I wanted to learn how to play guitar well, but my hands always cramped up, and then I got lazy. Typical story. And yet, I missed strumming my cruddy power chords and pretending that I was gonna be in a band. Which is why I bought the Danelectro:
I found it on Craigslist and bought it from a woman in her 40s. She'd put banjo strings on the guitar, so it has a tinny twang. But I love it all the same. I wind up playing it more frequently than I played the old guitar. I'm still a pretty bad guitarist, but I wind up spending hours tinkering around with the thing, and slowly my muscles are remembering chords. So far, I can play these songs from memory and everything:
This list will expand, of course. You can say you knew me when. Just as long as I don't try to join Ghost of Curtis, things should be just fine.
Anyway, I had to sell my guitar to help pay for my move to California. It was unfortunate, but not emotional. In a way, I was happy to see it go, because it represented failure. I wanted to learn how to play guitar well, but my hands always cramped up, and then I got lazy. Typical story. And yet, I missed strumming my cruddy power chords and pretending that I was gonna be in a band. Which is why I bought the Danelectro:
I found it on Craigslist and bought it from a woman in her 40s. She'd put banjo strings on the guitar, so it has a tinny twang. But I love it all the same. I wind up playing it more frequently than I played the old guitar. I'm still a pretty bad guitarist, but I wind up spending hours tinkering around with the thing, and slowly my muscles are remembering chords. So far, I can play these songs from memory and everything:
- "Want": Pathetically, I envision recording this one and giving it to someone who will probably not appreciate it, thereby increasing my misanthropy levels to previously unimagined heights. Tortured artist! (See earlier admission of humiliating love of the original Jawbreaker song.) I also set up the bassline on the 303. Because I am not a very fast guitarist, the song winds up sounding forlorn in its slower pace.
- "Love Will Tear Us Apart" I don't know how it happened, but somehow Joy Division has become my favorite band. I think it's the winning combination of moodiness and beauty. Anyway, the opening chords are so easy to play, and they burst forward shining. I don't have a keyboard for the melody, so I have to sing "DOOOOOO, doo dee doo doo doo doo, DEE doo" like the cut-rate musician that I am. Sabrina is going to learn the bassline, and then Monarchs of Laze will finally be able to complete our first song. Even if it is a cover.
- "Clash City Rockers" My poor downstairs neighbors must have grown so tired of hearing these eight chord-bursts for, like, three hours straight last weekend. Sorry, guys (but, to be fair, I can hear your snoring in the mornings. Call it even.)
- "Ceremony" Jesse showed me part of this song a while ago, so it was easy to delve into the dusty recesses of my brain and produce the necessary plinkings. I still need to look at the tabs for this one, but I only started learning it last night.
This list will expand, of course. You can say you knew me when. Just as long as I don't try to join Ghost of Curtis, things should be just fine.
Labels: jawbreaker, joy division, music, new order, sabs, the clash
Last night, I was at the U.S. premiere of the Joy Division documentary. This sounds like a big deal, until you realize that the film was completed in 2006—or so says IMDB—and so it's not like I'm ahead of the game or anything. Still, it was fun to be in a tiny room with a gaggle of geeks in dark clothing.
The film is great, and footage of the band inevitably reminds me of why I like a band that split up when I was still spitting up in my mother's arms. But I think that's part of the reason there's still a hunger for Joy Division; their music still feels innovative and fresh and relevant nearly 30 years after it was released. Could have done without some of the purple-prose quotes from fans and the New Order-ers, but all in all, it's a good documentary.
After the film, one of the producers stuck around for a Q&A session. One woman asked why the film featured Annick Honore, but not Deborah Curtis. (Exactly the question on my mind.) To paraphrase, the producer said that they chose to film only Annick so the viewer wouldn't be conflicted about how they viewed Ian.
"Bullshit," Sabrina later said. "They just couldn't get Deborah to do it."
I think she's right, and on a larger level, shouldn't a documentary present facts, not merely the more easily digestible parts of someone's life?
The film is great, and footage of the band inevitably reminds me of why I like a band that split up when I was still spitting up in my mother's arms. But I think that's part of the reason there's still a hunger for Joy Division; their music still feels innovative and fresh and relevant nearly 30 years after it was released. Could have done without some of the purple-prose quotes from fans and the New Order-ers, but all in all, it's a good documentary.
After the film, one of the producers stuck around for a Q&A session. One woman asked why the film featured Annick Honore, but not Deborah Curtis. (Exactly the question on my mind.) To paraphrase, the producer said that they chose to film only Annick so the viewer wouldn't be conflicted about how they viewed Ian.
"Bullshit," Sabrina later said. "They just couldn't get Deborah to do it."
I think she's right, and on a larger level, shouldn't a documentary present facts, not merely the more easily digestible parts of someone's life?
Labels: joy division, sabs
Don't laugh: I'm taking a burlesque class. It's not that I envision becoming a Sexy Lady (tm) or a breast-twirling superstar (they're not big enough to bounce, even). I just got tired of admiring burlesque dancers and thinking that I could never do what they do, so I decided to stop making excuses and take a class for fun. I tried my best to follow the instructor, but clumsiness proved stronger than grace. She moved left, I moved right. She shimmied her shoulders, I robotically threw mine backward and forward. She kicked her legs toward the ceiling, I hauled mine as far as my tendons would allow. Where she shimmied fluidly, I jerked angular, like Ian Curtis swaying under a snake enchanter's spell. Next week: dancing with thigh-highs. I envision becoming tangled in the fishnets.
Labels: joy division
top 5 worst things said to me by dates or crushes
5. "You're so... innocent."
Said to me by one of those boys who usually shows up only in graphic novels: scooter-riding, dark-haired, Joy Division-listening, hot with infinite T's. I was too much of a good girl for him, it seems. I still see him from time to time and occasionally wish that he'd develop a Pollyanna fetish.
4. "I think I will call you Pork Butt!"
And I think I will develop a complex about my porcine posterior now.
3. "You're like a little sister to me."
The sinking of the S.S. Self-Esteem happened on a warm summer day. The ship was sailing along in warm waters, when suddenly she was rocked by a deluge of sexlessness. The ship plunged into the murky waters of the Sea of Sibling, and to this day a recovery crew feebly attempts to reassemble what's left of its dignity and allure.
2. "You dress business-casual.
Just because I was not following the day-old vomit spill of electroclash fashion, that does not mean I am Talbots-ed out.
1. "I'll call you."
Not very nice when it's meant to mean "I am not interested." I like directness.
top 5 worst things i've said on dates or to potential dates, 2003-2004
5. "Ooh, did you see the Colin Powell camera debacle on Meet The Press?
Of course not. Only the twelve other people who like to eat their eggs florentine while watching the televised spectre of Tim Russert did.
4. "The cat has a t-shirt he likes to wear."
Self-explanatory.
3. "Come look at my closet!"
As it turns out, the way to win someone's interest is not through meticulous shoe organization.
2. "I feel really plain around you."
I still feel bad about having said this. See, the recipient of this statement is disarmingly good-looking. I mean, people stare. In comparison to his appearance, I felt so unremarkable that it set off a series of little explosions of insecurity. The end result is that I made him feel self-conscious. Ugh. Me=jerk.
1. "That reminds me of the time I shot a hole in the living room wall."
No, seriously, I shot a hole in the wall. With a pistol. I was only twelve. My punishment was no Girl Scout meetings for two weeks. We covered the hole with a framed cross-stitching. What's that? You're going outside for a cigarette? But wait, I thought you didn't smoke. Well, okay, I will wait right here for you...
5. "You're so... innocent."
Said to me by one of those boys who usually shows up only in graphic novels: scooter-riding, dark-haired, Joy Division-listening, hot with infinite T's. I was too much of a good girl for him, it seems. I still see him from time to time and occasionally wish that he'd develop a Pollyanna fetish.
4. "I think I will call you Pork Butt!"
And I think I will develop a complex about my porcine posterior now.
3. "You're like a little sister to me."
The sinking of the S.S. Self-Esteem happened on a warm summer day. The ship was sailing along in warm waters, when suddenly she was rocked by a deluge of sexlessness. The ship plunged into the murky waters of the Sea of Sibling, and to this day a recovery crew feebly attempts to reassemble what's left of its dignity and allure.
2. "You dress business-casual.
Just because I was not following the day-old vomit spill of electroclash fashion, that does not mean I am Talbots-ed out.
1. "I'll call you."
Not very nice when it's meant to mean "I am not interested." I like directness.
top 5 worst things i've said on dates or to potential dates, 2003-2004
5. "Ooh, did you see the Colin Powell camera debacle on Meet The Press?
Of course not. Only the twelve other people who like to eat their eggs florentine while watching the televised spectre of Tim Russert did.
4. "The cat has a t-shirt he likes to wear."
Self-explanatory.
3. "Come look at my closet!"
As it turns out, the way to win someone's interest is not through meticulous shoe organization.
2. "I feel really plain around you."
I still feel bad about having said this. See, the recipient of this statement is disarmingly good-looking. I mean, people stare. In comparison to his appearance, I felt so unremarkable that it set off a series of little explosions of insecurity. The end result is that I made him feel self-conscious. Ugh. Me=jerk.
1. "That reminds me of the time I shot a hole in the living room wall."
No, seriously, I shot a hole in the wall. With a pistol. I was only twelve. My punishment was no Girl Scout meetings for two weeks. We covered the hole with a framed cross-stitching. What's that? You're going outside for a cigarette? But wait, I thought you didn't smoke. Well, okay, I will wait right here for you...
Labels: joy division, men i would have dated
