Monday, March 31, 2003


A: Would you like a white bell pepper?

B: What?

A: Sorry, I was dreaming.



Gigolo Tide

I'm back from the coast. We had a grand merry time, but now my skin is reddened by the evil sun. Here is what we learned from the Oregon coast:

-sea life is best studied when poked with a stick
-crabs aren't people-friendly
-glow sticks were meant to be chopped in half
-crows hate Tristan
-there are no buffalo at the coast


Tuesday, March 25, 2003

I finished this about a week ago and I hesitated posting it because I thought it was too long. But hey, I probably won't be posting for a few more days, so what the hell.

AND THE 'OSKAR' GOES TO...
Momus - Oskar Tennis Champion

Oskar Tennis Champion can be viewed as a tennis match in itself, with Momus�s voice and lyrics facing off against John Fashion Flesh�s glitched-out remixes of each song. Fashion Flesh in fact reproduced the album; after completing them in Tokyo, Momus sent the Oskar songs via internet to John in the U.S. who mangled them in his own disjointed fashion and sent them back. The result is distinctly the product of two masterminds, and each song features the music being bounced back and forth between electro-glitch tangents and Momus�s sneaking voice.

Of course, for this tennis match to be appealing to the audience there must be a sort of balance between both sides of the court. The players must try to keep the ball in constant rhythmic volley, otherwise one player will dominate the game. Oskar Tennis Champion tries hard to keep this rhythm and balance throughout the album, but inevitably some songs come out a little uneven.

The real threat to consistency here is Fashion Flesh. He�s the Challenger. Momus is our home player; having produced every one of his previous albums with his own two hands, we have our expectations for what we want to hear from the self-proclaimed Tender Pervert/Ultraconformist/Smooth Folk Singer. But this time Momus has trusted Oskar in the hands Fashion Flesh, and with good reason. Flesh reproduced Oliver Cobol�s 8-bit madrigals in the same fashion and, calling themselves The Super Madrigal Brothers, released the fantastic glitch-nostalgia album "Shakestation". Momus released the CD on his American Patchwork label and was so impressed with Flesh�s work that he commissioned him for the Oskar project (Oliver Cobol also contributed to Oskar Tennis Champion with the semi-secret track, "Ring Tone Cycle").

The question is, can Fashion Flesh�s reproduction truly be on par with Momus�s own production skills, which we�ve come to know and love? In reading his website essays you will find that Momus surely thinks so, and for the most part, I agree.

After listening to the album there�s no doubt that Flesh has a fine understanding of music and an intricate imagination to go with it. You can hear Momus�s trademark retro-electronic arrangements as the groundwork for each song, but now the music is in constant flux. Blips, clicks, moog sweeps and video-game sounds continually come and go while the vocals and melodies are subjected to an endless barrage of computer effects. Though we have no way of knowing what exactly has been altered from the original Momus-produced tracks (which may never be heard), one senses these versions have undergone quite a bit of electronic fucking-around to sound like they do on the album.

Ah, but what about the man himself? Where is Momus in all of this? He�s here, in all his obscure witty glory, and his new musical musings lean toward the absurdist side. "Is it Because I�m a Pirate?" follows the thoughts of a pirate who�s been stood up for a date, but he is prepared to wait. "Scottish Lips" pleads that a lover have feelings for more than a certain facial characteristic, while the narrator of "A Lapdog" reflects and regrets sending a girl to Antarctica out of jealousy toward her cute little pet. "The Last Communist" sounds like an ad for the communist party done by the Pet Shop Boys, and features a few jabs at American politics ("You're writing up the budget and you're purchasing supplies/It's always someone else's turn to die"). As for "My Sperm Is Not Your Enemy", well, use your imagination.

The title track tells the story of a Tati-esque uncle�s slapstick adventure through an ultra-modern world, but this is one track that seems to get buried by the reproduction. Listening to it, I sometimes wish there was a button on my stereo that could turn off the cluttered electronic noise. "Multiplying Love" begins with the potential to become a clever modern love song in the tradition of Momus�s classic "I Want You But I Don�t Need You", but gets devoured by effects and static before ending at a little over a minute, as if he�s afraid of becoming too relative. "Electrosexual Sewing Machine" is one of the songs that finds perfect balance as both musicians� talents dance a dark, foreboding waltz to lyrics rooted in the surreal. The other highlight of the album can be found in "The Laird of Iversnecky", a delightful vaudevillian tune sung with Scottish flavor, and an instant Momus classic.

Some fans argue that since his 1997 album Ping Pong, Momus has become more of a novelty act than an expressive musician. Indeed, The Little Red Songbook, Stars Forever, and Folktronic were all conceptual, each album produced with cheesy hardware and exploring a musical idea. Oskar Tennis Champion sees Momus, this time without solid concept, returning to where he left off with Ping Pong, but we must keep in mind that 6 years have passed. He has since moved beyond the indie-pop territory of exorcising inner demons and commenting on the more taboo aspects of society. His new musical concepts and inspirations are more abstract visions that exist only inside his head, interpretations of whatever obscure brain food he�s discovered in the past couple years. His official move into the genre of electronica has only further depersonalized the man and allowed for the music (and his collaborator) to do 50% of the talking.

Oskar Tennis Champion is an interesting, absurd, richly-textured album that invites us to take a seat in the bubbling hot tub of the electronic avant-garde, but we just can�t help asking: "Momus, where�s the heart?" B



The Sad, Stupid Truth

Go here. Read this.


I haven't been around for a few days. Busy stuff.

Anyway, the CD of my songs didn't turn out quite as good as was expected, but the songs are available for download if you want to hear them. Contact Cody for info on that.

I watched Fellini's Satyricon this morning. The one scene I remember most, aside from every crazy image that makes up the movie, is a 3-4 second shot with a guy in a fish suit. This...thing doesn't appear anywhere else in the film, and isn't explained or acknowledged by the characters. And I think that's cool.


Wednesday, March 19, 2003

Horses, Fighter Planes, Scary Faces, People Doing It

For any of you who didn' t know, the 11-song tape that I made for Mr. John Louie is completed. Here's a brief review:

"The tape really does kick some ass. It was a lot more impressive than I imagined it would to be." "Damn." -anonymous listener

Cody Donahue is going to attempt to put the songs on CD. If any of you fucks want to hear this thing, all you need do is ask.




I'm gonna make this quick, because it's finals week.

Aww, c'mon. You all know how this war is going to turn out. Saddam's going to attack the U.S. with all his homemade tanks and mail-away guns, and the American troops with their helmets on backwards are going to press the big red buttons in their cloaked, flying tanks that send heat-seeking lazer missles blasting at the speed of light towards anyone in the area with Iraqi DNA. Saddam's gonna say "Shit, nig," and order all of his forces to retreat into the mountains. Bush will take his cigar out of his mouth long enough to say "let's persue them bastards" and the U.S. forces will give chase, only to find a secret Saddam-La land hidden in the canyons of Iraq. Our boys in green will be caught off-guard by giant mutant insects and genetically modified soldiers that fly and attack with big metal fish, but Bush will use his Microsoft brand heat-ray to incinerate his way deep into Saddam's lair. There he will find that the Iraqi president's leading scientists have been combining the DNA of history's greatest tyrants to make the most powerful leader the world has ever known. The genetic frankenstein will throw an evil snake at Bush and mortally wound him, but the villian will then come to the realization that he has no mother and father and turn his evil powers on himself, meeting death by his own hand. Saddam, meanwhile, will admit to Bush that they are in fact half-brothers and proceed to nurse the American president back to health, who will in turn draw a silver .44 from his holster and blast Saddam's brains out. Then he'll say "yee haw!" and do the curl-leaf shuffle. The End.


Monday, March 17, 2003

He Talks Like the Fonz!

"When Saddam Hussein says he has no weapons of mass destruction, he means what he says." -Saddam Hussein

"The only option is the departure of the warmonger No. 1 in the world � the failing President Bush who has made his country a joke in the world." -Iraqi Foreign Minister Naji Sabri


The Quest for Comments, book 3

At last I've met success. Each post has a shiny new comment link, ready to serve the public's desire to shout back at me. The flood gates are open, whelps! Let your voices ring out, and my keen ears shall deliver me your opinions and queries.

test. Sprinkles of colored cocaine on your baby's rosy jelly face.

Saturday, March 15, 2003

changesbrett / The Quest for Comments, book 2

There are a couple new things on this here site. First, if you scroll down you will find an email link. I finally found out how to put one up (no thanks to the blogger "help" option). Also, there is the comment link. The good news is I have one. The bad news is I have ONLY one. The point of having comments is so that each post can have its own feedback. But, as it is, there is only one link that rides the latest post, and that really isn't what I was looking for. So fuckdiddlyuck, I'll just have to rearrange some ridiculously complex codes in HTML World.

Thursday, March 13, 2003

final John's Taste update: I'm finishing it, I'm finishing it!
Made Me What I Am Today

Classic Nick Homepage

I found a site with information about all the old 80s Nickelodeon shows. Exploring this site has uncovered entire sections of my memory. THIS is the stuff I watched every day as a kid. Take a look, maybe you did too.

Even if you don't know any of these shows, check out "Picture Pages". It's the Cos' with a magic pen!


Tuesday, March 11, 2003

Brett's Busy

I don't have any time to think of something clever to write, so I will just give you this to think about:

"...When guys are alone they create impossibly cool games. For example, my brother and I spent elementary school coming up with ways to combine baseball with full contact kickboxing. When there were no girls around, we invented sports like Everyone Jump Off the Roof and Light Mike on Fire. Once girls entered our lives, it was all over. Because after the age of 12, the only time you ever completely get away from women is the one afternoon where your health teacher takes you away to a seperate screening room and shows you the horrible things that can grow on your penis. And that's no time to be inventing sports." -Seanbaby, seanbaby.com




Monday, March 10, 2003


Not much time to write stuff. Busy memorizing Japanese. Nakanaka muzukashii, yo.

John's Taste Update: recorded "Pleased to meet You"; loading problems no more, recorded "Quarter-horses Ride at Dawn"; recorded "The Silly Sex Song", but didn't record on John's tape yet (may show up as a bonus track)

Sunday, March 09, 2003

John's Taste Update: completed "Animal Behavior", ready to record; completed "Vanilla Coke", ready to record; completed electronic track for "Pleased to Meet You"; ran into loading problems with "Quarter-horses Ride at Dawn" and "Zardoz", so they may not make the cut. Poo.

Thursday, March 06, 2003

It's Worth a Membership

If you go to MSN chat and click the "my MSN nickname" link, it shows you a box allowing you to change your nickname. The great part is the suggested names it lists below the box, which are apparently random adjectives and nouns stuck together. This feature is, at the same time, a 'Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band name generator' and a 'Momus song-title dispenser'. Here are a couple winners I just found:

Polyvinyl Tapestry
Trueborn Eel
Haunting Paladin
Shunned Lotus
Combined Bean
Onstage Odin
Tyrannous Nut
Minus Cracker
Mahogany Uniform
Dallying Minotaur

If you keep hitting the "more" link, the names keep comin!

Wednesday, March 05, 2003

Something to think about, in light of the protests...

"The U.S. invasion of Panama in December 1989 was devised to remove narco-dictator Manuel Antonio Noriega from that country and deliver him to U.S. justice. The rest of the world rose to condemn the American intervention. Everywhere, pacifists shouted insults at Yankee imperialism -- everywhere, except Panama, where the people welcomed the invaders and revealed to them where the dictatorship's thugs were hiding." -article in The Miami Herald

Tuesday, March 04, 2003

John's Taste update: prepared guitar track for fourth song, "Pleased to Meet You"
The Quest for Comments, book 1

I ventured to the site of Enetation.com, supposedly one of the most widely used comment-installing systems on the web. "Sign up and get started" it told me. I jumped through the hoops placed before me, the password choosing, the verification, the email. All was done as asked. Then a body of text tole me "you are signed up. Please login using the box to the left." But lo, upon entering my username and password, a white screen did present itself before my eyes, and it said thus: "Username invalid". I tried again and again, my efforts true, but to no avail. The login was a lie. So I gathered my men and set sail.

Sunday, March 02, 2003

Chucky Rode in 'Wild Animal Car'

I am going to really try to get a comment thing on this stupid blog. I found another site exactly like mine, and that person had comments. Someday the term "user-friendly" will actually have a fucking meaning.

Anyhoo, yesterday I went on a little Portland odyssey with some ne'er-do-wells, and I came across "Oskar Tennis Champion" in a neato indie music shop. Expect a review for the album posted on this site within the next few days. Also while we were there a small dog barked at Tristan, a funny postcard was discovered and purchased, and some fish-juice made civil hands unclean.

I go now.