More Fun in the New World

* Dinosaur Jr.: November 15
* Sonic Youth: July 28
* X: June 23 (check)

Alright, that's the schedule so far. It is subject to change.

Saw X and they were awesome. John Doe is one sweaty young man. I was put in charge of managing the fan and I blew it. He walked over and adjusted it after two songs. I really dropped the ball. He did frequent our edge of the stage quite a lot, however. I've always listened to his bass parts on the records, but watching him play is another trip altogether. There's a secret to his style that's very interesting: he's reaaallly good. Thirds and fifths; chords; slide work out of no where - truly a class act. And really sweaty.

Billy Zoom didn't even break a sweat. He was engaged, as usual, in scanning the audience and locking eyes whenever he could. For a Christian, he can be one creepy mother fucker. Since I was in front of Doe the whole time, I couldn't keep track of Billy's playing as much as I would have liked, but needless to say it was flawless. He can eye-rape the crowd while pulling licks out of his axe with ease; he doesn't even have to concenrate on his playing. Talk about another class act: Zoom took pictures of the audience (as is his usual practice after a gig), shook hands, and signed autographs all over the place. I shook his hand. He smelled like my uncle Rick. Class act.

Exene, bless her heart, is still out there giving it the old mopey try. When she was twenty-five, it was alluring and sexy; now she just looks a little confused: 'Where am I? Who are all these people? Is that my ex-boyfriend? Look, a microphone - I think I'll try to sing.'
She can still extract those shrill harmonies to Doe's smooth-as-whiskey baritone, though. "I Must Not Think Bad Thoughts" was done well. "Under the Big Black Sun", too.

D.J. Bonebreak was reliable, as always. Yep...

So Michael Jackson died yesterday. Yep. I had a one-sided conversation with Yamasua at work about the trials and tribulations of humanity. He spoke and spoke, and I deafly acquieced. When he gets going about fate, and happiness, and materialism, and etc. etc. he is definitely on a roll. Our first conversation involved amnesty and the state of his country, Liberia. Now every time we meet in the break-room, he conjures up a mess of introspective philosophy. He's a great guy, but sometimes Michael Jackson dies because 75% of his face isn't real. True, the money didn't help either, nor did his crippling narcicism or eccentric behavior; but I think it had a lot to do with his fake face. Where there is no blood, there is no life. One cannot survive in plastic. But anyway...