Nap Attacks

Long Way Around the Sea (rambling nonsense whlist listening to Low)

2009-12-05T23:21:00.000-08:00

I have some friends who are at ATP in England right now. It makes me slightly more lonely than usual.

It's very cold here in Portland - 20 degrees or so. That's -7 for my UK pals. It never got that cold in Britain, though there were some pretty rough winter days in Glasgow from what I recall, and the whole never-ending rain and getting dark at 3pm thing was pretty depressing. It's all of little to no consequence. I'm cold, is all. I'll get over it. I could have lived in South Carolina and been warm all year 'round, but then I'd be eating poorly and bitching about the lack of culture every day.

Amber is on a health kick. If you're going to be obsessive about something, being healthy is, um, a pretty healthy thing to latch onto. We joined the gym and she's all about it, but I'm still pretty shy about working out around everyone else. It's just a cultural thing I guess...Americans are way more crazy about body image than anyone else on the planet. Anyway, I don't know why I'm talking about weather and gyms.

I care about this thing I'm going to write. I was working on a short screenplay about a date night that I had in London, and I had jazzed it up to make it slightly fictional/more interesting. I wrote two drafts - the first one I liked more but writing group didn't approve, but the second draft didn't fare much better. I guess it's destined to remain a funny story for a buzzed late night chat session. Not meant for the screen...or maybe I'll get inspired to re-write it again sometime.

So now that I've been going to writing group for a few weeks, I'm learning LOTS. Including the happy realization that I've got SOMETHING like potential. I'm dropping the short because I don't care about it as much as this great big idea that I've had for quite some time. No, it's not the one that James and Erin know about. That one is pretty good too though, and I'll work on them after I finish this thing that is as-yet-untitled and currently has its plot points scrawled in sharpie ink over 3 big pieces of colored construction paper.

Speaking of James, he's doing really quite well. We speak about weekly, which makes me happy.

I did some things that were really cool, but they were too long ago and I never wrote about them and now it feels less cool because time has passed and I have a head cold. Well, there was the Corin Tucker singing the Beatles thing, which I already posted, so there's that. I like her lots. I want to cast her in my movie if and when that happens.

Keep writing, that's the thing. That's the challenge.

I'm...working at a call center for a health insurance company. The horrors are many. I don't want to give it too much power by writing about it though. Just thought you all should know that's how I'm supporting myself these days.

I DJed a night at Ground Kontrol last month. It's a classic arcade with a bar. I tweeted my playlist, which ruled, obviously. Thing is, it's an arcade, nobody is there to dance, they're just playing games, so it's pretty laid back. The sound was horrible; the manager kept turning my volume down because he didn't want me to drown out the video game sounds, so it was a strange mix. I played mostly 70/80s wave type stuff, because that just seemed to fit with the scene. I don't really know why they even have a DJ, but hey, it paid $37 and I got to play songs for 3 hours, and I'd do it again.

I've made Bottle Rocket artwork for here...even went to Kinko's and got a bunch of posters printed. I'm gonna take them to some venues and pitch the club night to them. I'm disappointed that it's not happened yet, and I'm going to have to wait until after the holidays to do anything about it, but then again it took 2 years before I got a club night in Glasgow.

Going back to uni...maybe. This time - to be a teacher of young minds! The applications for this sort of thing are far more demanding than all of the arts programs that I've been a part of over the years. I'm not qualified for teaching, but maybe I'll get into a program and get myself qualified. Most folks who know me think I'd be an awesome teacher, and though I'm sort of nauseatingly nervous about the idea, I think it might be what I'm destined to do.

I'm playing the Low Christmas ep. It's the first time that I've played it this year. It reminds me of my last night in Glasgow. I asked Chris to play "Just Like Christmas" directly after my last song of the night. He did, and I danced with Laura, who was so sweet and kind to me that night. I know it's been nearly a year, but that night is so vivid in my mind, it really was one of those nights one never forgets.

I can't believe it's been nearly a year...

Corin Tucker sings The Beatles!

2009-11-19T23:05:00.000-08:00

I shot this last night at Mississippi Studios in Portland:

Year 30 Part II: USA / Goals for 31

2009-10-05T22:45:00.000-07:00

Year 30 Part II: USA

I came back to America trying to convince myself that it was going to be another challenge, another adventure, and that the election of Barak Obama was going to make America an awesome place. Thing is, I didn't really believe any of that. I was miserable, sunk into a depression deeper than anything I had experienced since high school, and trying to force myself to be optimistic absolutely destroyed my energy and broke my brain. I was sent back to this country in pieces.

I had no place to go. My family had long since left New York City for rural upstate regions, where the snow was measured in feet, the temperatures were typically below zero, and the social scene consisted of kids doing meth at the laundarymat. My friends in NYC couldn't put me up, and my biological father, who lives in neighboring New Jersey, was unable to accomodate me during this terrifying period. I went upstate to try and collect my thoughts and spend time with my lovely mother, but couldn't deal with the climate and general lack of life.

My aunt and uncle offered me a room in their Maryland home, just outside of the DC beltway. I felt some optimism about moving to a big city again. I witnessed history as one of the millions in attendance of President Obama's inauguration. That was pretty cool. I felt the hope. I started applying for jobs in DC, and invested time in discovering the city. I went on a few dates and met some nice people. I spent 8 or 9 hours a day applying for jobs, sure that my experience in NYC and London would impress some DC folks, but after a couple of weeks and not getting a single response, I collapsed back into the darkness, even more drained than ever. I spent several days in my bedroom just watching episodes of 30 Rock and The Office - entire seasons were consumed. I had never watching so much TV in my life. I felt so utterly defeated, as if I was going to just give it all up and turn into some lifeless American, like I was going to live in the suburbs and take some generic IT job and spend all my free time in front of the TV playing video games or something - this became a horrible fear. I mean, like, I started shaking because I was so afraid that this is what I was going to become.

I had to stop it from happening.

I got in the car.

I didn't know where I was going exactly.

I headed west, because that was the only place left to discover.

My head said Austin. My heart said Portland. I think it was always gonna be Portland.

The road was maddening. Driving for 14 hours a day, I was quickly worn down by how oppressive and enormous this country is. For thousands of miles, everything looked the same. I constantly feared that my car was going to break down in the middle of some god-forsaken southern plain. It was not an enjoyable journey. I had left for the road in the midst of a severely depressive episode, and after a few days I was terrified because I had made such an irrational decision and all of a sudden I was 2,000 miles away from home.

I needed a hug pretty freaking badly. I gunned for Albuquerque to see James. It took me something like 1400 miles off course for Portland, but it was probably necessary. I felt like a zombie in the New Mexico desert, and I though I was so happy to see such an important and incredibly relevant friend, I had a hard time showing it due to the emotional and physical exhaustion that I was experiencing.

Arriving in Portland was marked with joy and confusion. I had decided to move across the country to a city that I had never even seen before, had no connections in, and offered no appealing job opportunities. All I really knew is that a bunch of bands I liked were living there, as well as a couple of my favorite filmmakers, and that it had a reputation as one of the most liberal cities in America.

It was March 5th, and within a few hours of arriving in Portland, I had found a place to stay for a month. Shortly after moving my stuff into a basement in the Mississippi district, I went to my first gig and made my first friend. Everything was looking up. I wrote about that first night here.

Now I'm living at my 4th address in 7 months, and am about to get laid off for the 2nd time over the same period. I'm happy with my love. I still have a hard time making friends on my own, but Amber's friends are fantastic. I miss my friends in the UK terribly...more than they could even realize.

I have now moved 30 times in my life.

Portland is my home now.

Goals for year 31:

Start Bottle Rocket PDX.
Go back to university for teaching.
Return to the UK for a visit, and guest DJ at Bottle Rocket.
Celebrate more Jewish holidays.
Learn to be a better and more understanding partner to my loved one.
Write one short screenplay.
Write one feature screenplay.
Become a substitute teacher.
Sell my car.
Buy a bus pass.
Cook at home more.
Read more books.
Take more walks.
Host a few movie nights.
Get a radio show.
Go to more gigs.
Go back to the east coast to visit my family.
Blog more.
Get new glasses.
Buy clothes that fit me.

x

Year 30 Part I: UK

2009-10-05T20:54:00.001-07:00

Allow me to reflect for an evening.

Tomorrow is my birthday.

30 was a big year. Transitional indeed.

Last October I was living in London, and for my birthday I flew up to Glasgow to see my dear Friends. We had dinner at Cafe Andaluz in Hillhead, and at that table were Duncan, Susan, Chris, Laura, James, Patrick, and a few others. But those six people changed my life over the course of time. They were, and still are, the coolest people in the world to me. It was the beginning of a very strange year.

The day after my birthday, Chris and I went off to Sweden for a week or so. You can read about that here. Shortly after that trip was Bottle Rocket October, which was when the universe hinted something was up. While BR October was incredible and possibly the most euphoric night I've ever had, it was marked by utter shock by the news that James was getting deported. He worked at a Church, so I thought he would be safe from this fate, but no no no, the government was onto him, and he had to go back to the states. The laws started getting tougher. James was the last American friend I had. Erin had voluntarily split a while ago, and even Stacey had left. Like me, James had no intention of leaving. I wrote about James here.

November was intense. The election of Barak Obama had me very excited, and for a minute I even thought that it would be cool to be back in the states. We had a post-election party at my Brixton house, which was fucking insane, I drank too much raspberry vodka and had a very difficult time speaking to my friend Alex who was trying to discuss film with me. I only remember how difficult it was to maintain eye contact because it looked like his head was moving in circles around the room. Then there was Bottle Rocket November, which was a doozy. I remember getting so caught up in the songs, and started singing, screaming even, along to some of the songs that I played for the USA - "Remember Today" by the Thermals, "I Believe in Miracles" by the Ramones, and particularly "Mr. November" by The National, during which probably scared a few people with my shouting along. I remember that night so distinctly, how, because the CD players weren't working properly, Chris and I had to alternate songs all night and how it created a unique tension that I think the whole room felt, and how it lifted us all to heaven once Nina Simone started singing "Feeling Good". I looked out on the floor at that point and saw love bursting all over the room, and I felt so happy with my life, so good about what I was doing, being so very truly at the core of a permeating and empowering love.

At the end of November, I took a personal trip to Lisbon on my own, which I wrote about here, here, and especially here. There are pictures too. Upon returning to the UK, during what should have been a routine customs stop, I was informed that I needed to return to the US soon or be "forcefully removed" from the UK. I didn't write about this at the time because I thought that I could fight it and beat it without making much of a drama about the whole ordeal. I went to the BBC and asked for visa help, but they deemed me too insignificant an employee to waste any money or lawyers on. I gathered all of the information that the immigration people wanted, and after a few frantic days of phone calls and trying to keep myself together, I was told that I was unable to renew my visa (the International Graduates Visa), because under new immigration policies, that particular visa had been discontinued and the only way to stay in the UK was to either make twice my salary or marry a British citizen. I was now into December, with an expiration date of Jan 10th. I revealed the sad news in a post on December 4th. On December 5th I went to How Does it Feel to be Loved in Brixton and danced to The Smiths.

Bottle Rocket December was my last time DJing. It was my goodbye to the city that I loved with all my heart. It was a celebration. Several nice ladies offered to marry me, but I politely declined as I knew it wasn't a sacrifice that they would make while sober. I wrote about it here. I wonder if it was the best night of my life. I was so so sad...my setlist was terribly strange, a mix of Christmas songs and deeply personal songs. When I played "Get Up" by Sleater-Kinney, it was the first time that I felt like I was going to eventually live in Portland. I closed my set with "Sleep the Clock Around", which was the song that played like a loop in my head during my very first visit to Glasgow. I put the song on, walked away from the mixing board and hit the dancefloor, dancing with my friend Laura, who held me as I tried unsuccessfully to bite back the tears.

I still had things to do - ending my job at the BBC, visiting Amsterdam with Lacey over the New Year holiday, and getting on that goddamned airplane. But when I left Glasgow the day after Bottle Rocket, that was when the darkness came. That commute home was so difficult - I had to keep myself together whilst on trains and planes, and when I got back to Brixton I remember just running up the stairs, shutting my door, and wailing into my pillow for hours.

Year 30 Part II: USA will be posted soon.

2,000 miles of west coast stories

2009-09-23T08:22:00.000-07:00

Over Labor Day weekend we went down to the Bay Area - stayed with some friends in Oakland. Our temporary residence was a home atop a series of storefronts in the Asian district nearby Lake Merritt. It's a unique home known as "The Happiness Hotel" to some or simply "The China House" to others. Though it was unlike any living space I had ever seen, it wouldn't be out of place on the European Hostel circuit. Through the open door we were greeted by smiles and an adorable wee Ewok-looking doggie named Devo. The vibrant house has two kitchens, several living rooms, and around 11 bedrooms, all occupied by various creative beings, with an age range from about 20-50. The place had a colorful but dark energy; a dwelling of calm people surrounded by walls shouting art from all corners. The hub of the Happiness was the outside roof space that could be accessed from the two separate ends of the L-shaped home. Since Oakland is said to have the best climate in the USA, the outside area, bursting with flora and old house wares, naturally serves as the heart of the home. It was out here where we watched Blazing Saddles being projected onto a wall. Though everyone was fairly knackered from whatever challenges came before them, I was in awe of the place, and hope to return.

Oakland is a strange city - being just a 30-minute subway ride from San Francisco has given the city an inferiority complex over time, and it is apparent that much of the city has decayed without much care. It's one of those cities that are clearly due for gentrification, as young progressives out of college make it their cheap home base whilst trying to break into a career in a more promising place such as Berkeley or SF. It's not quite the hipster haven that Brooklyn has become over the past decade, though it will be in due time.

I did manage to get across the Bay - on Saturday night, Amber and I took the BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit) subway into the SoMa area in search of indie karaoke. Actually, I was hoping to get us to a club night called Leisure, which boasts both indie-pop dancing AND karaoke, which would be ideal for Amber and myself, since I'm not much for karaoke and dearly miss my dancing nights. SF had a London-type quality to the air - dense and chilling; with frosty clouds hovering around the top floors of monochrome structures. Because we only had about 3 hours before the last BART left for Oakland, we couldn't wander around the iconic bits of the city - so I never saw the waterfront, the Golden Gate, Haight, or any of the famous hippie stuff. We did manage to accidentally stumble into the Mission district during a search for a loo, which we finally found inside possibly the nicest Denny's I've ever seen. After satisfying that particular urge, we ended up on Folsom Street, where the clubs lay dormant until whenever they deem appropriate. Doormen and bouncers hung about and exchanged pleasantries with the happy wondering souls on the street. And that was quite common - happiness - seemed to permeate through the cracks of this city. Everyone was smiling. Amber drew my attention to this as I was too involved with navigating the unfamiliar streets, but once I looked around, I saw the smiles. It wasn't creepy or anything, no, it was just nice. Everything was nice. People were happy to be in San Francisco that night. I wonder if it's always the case. Since Leisure wasn’t starting until 10:30 and we had to be on the train at 11 or so, we decided to head to Annie’s Social Club, which had some sort of metal show going on, but had a wee red karaoke room in the back for a small group of singers, all of whom were friendly and accepting to Amber & I. My sweet lady belted out a few tunes before we did a little B-52s duo of Private Idaho, something I really enjoy doing because I get so sing and dance to the B-52s with my loved one.

So that was my San Francisco experience. I’ll be back someday to see the city in the daylight.

Seeing my mother for the first time in 8 months was nice too. She was in Monterey with her partner to attend his daughter’s wedding, which I’m sure was lovely because MONTEREY IS ONE OF THE MOST BEAUTIFUL PLACES IN AMERICA. Monterey Bay is protected by some cool law that makes it illegal for boats or dirty things to be in it. I sat out on the rocks in the water and watched herons and other awesome birds hanging out on bits of coral while Amber and my mom got to chatting. It was quite an exceptional trip for mom, as she had never been away from her daughter before, nor had she ever traveled so far from home. It was the best trip of her life, and I had never seen her so happy.

Outside of Berkeley was Pixar studios. I became aware of this by a friend in the car as we drove by en route to food. I was tempted but didn’t stop for a look. We ate at a café just a few blocks away, and it was one of the coolest cafes ever – The Rudy Can’t Fail Café. Yes, yes, YES, it was a Clash-themed joint. Barbie-type dolls lined the wall. I had the Jimmy Shake.

We went to a movie night last night and watched Coraline. It’s still creepy and smart.

Some other things have happened recently. There’s the Seattle trip.

Miles is a friend who lives around the corner from us. He likes the Pet Shop Boys. Quite a lot, I reckon, since he bought a pair of tix to see them in Seattle, which is a 3-hour drive away.

The following is a dramatization. Names have been changed to protect me from misquoting, which I most likely am but don’t really mean to.

INTERIOR – DAY

PHONE RINGS

JOSHUA
Hi Megan

MEGAN
Um…Miles has this table, but we have to drive him to Seattle.

JOSHUA
Uh huh….

MEGAN
This table is perfect….OH MY GOD…it’s red and vintage and perfect….oh yeah, so, Miles has tickets to see the Pet Shop Boys in Seattle.

JOSHUA
OK

MEGAN
He’ll pay for gas and stuff. So you wanna go? We have to leave within the hour or so.

JOSHUA
Sure! I’ve never been to Seattle before, let’s do it.

Cut to later on…

CAR – NIGHT

MEGAN
Will there be peeing soon?

JOSHUA sees an upcoming exit for Sleater-Kinney Ave. and gets excited

JOSHUA
YES! We can pee at Sleater-Kinney!

And that’s the story of how I finally saw the street that gave the name to my favorite rock band. It’s in Lacey, Washington, just outside of Olympia.

So we went to Seattle, but like my San Francisco trip, it was brief and dark, yet enjoyable and leaving me with a desire to return for a proper visit with the city. While Miles went to the concert, Amber and I met her old friend Matt, who I chatted with me about chicken coops, writing and children. The trip back included a stop at Denny’s in Olympia, and I felt like I was 21 and in college again, since that was the sort of thing I used to do with Jeff back in the olden days.

That was Seattle. And now we have this incredible table which I’m writing on. We’re both in love with it. It’s red and has matching chairs.

Oh, so we live together now, Amber and I. I think I should have mentioned that someplace else for this to make sense, but I suppose I’m in a non-linear place and that’s ok.

Amber wants to have a DJ battle with me right now. How cool is that?!

Our home is an apartment in the Buckman neighborhood, between Belmont and Hawthorne in the 20s. Laurelhurst Park is only 1 mile away, and the bus stop is just 2 blocks away. The
‘hood is bursting with flora and nice people. I love being able to walk everywhere. I’m intent on selling my car and getting a bus pass and a bike.

We celebrated our first holiday together in our home; Rosh Hashanah was this past weekend. We rocked a sweet challah and Amber busted out some blessings. Then we started to watch Fanny and Alexander (the 3-hour version), which Amber had never seen before. We made it halfway before having nap attacks, so we’ll resume later. It’s a terrific holiday film; the last time I had seen it was on Christmas of last year, when I was alone. Jeff had recently sent a text suggesting that it may be one of the 5 greatest films of all time, a sentiment to which I am complicit.

There’s a plan in place, just no cash. It’ll be ok though.

It’s weird not being a film critic or a DJ or something like that. Those were nice identities to have, though I’ve been doing that sort of thing on and off since the end of 1997, so I’m confident that it’ll come around again. I really wanna give people something to be excited about. Now that I’m settled into an apartment, that’s got a better shot at happening. It’s still a challenge to find time to myself, but I’m working on that.

For now though, everything is nice.

Moments

2009-08-20T09:42:00.000-07:00

This is from WNYC's podcast Radio Lab. I love it.

100 Days

2009-08-11T15:20:00.000-07:00

We went to see 500 Days of Summer this past weekend.

We both loved it immensely. So much so that I couldn't even think of walking back to the car afterward - we had to sit down and talk about our feelings for another hour or so. It was in the park blocks near the theater district and PSU.

Sometimes there is this magic feeling...as if we are in tune with everything around us; I feel like we've got the key lights in our eyes and everyone around us is in our movie. As we held hands on that park bench; as I found myself in this magical place, I heard a choir chanting "love, love, love". It was coming from one of the theaters or churches nearby. They were singing the Beatles song "All You Need is Love". Shortly thereafter, a wedding procession walked by.

100 days of open hearts.
100 days of open minds.

Ongoing discussions of stars, cups, family, strength, bravery, childhood, journeys, love, swords, plants, dreams, devils, and songs.

Life, the universe, and everything. It's what I wanted.

We went to the Delta Cafe the other day for a ridiculously heavy meal of southern food. Shortly after my barrel of sweet tea arrived, I heard a familiar voice in the background. It was Stuart...someone had put on "If You're Feeling Sinister" and as I silently wished for it to be louder, the volume went up. I felt so happy to be there with my sweetheart, eating delicious food as my favorite album played. She's not a B&S fan, but she did finally ask me to burn her a cd so she could see what it's all about. I'm debating if I should make a mix of their best songs or just give her Sinister. The dilemma with B&S is that Stuart's vocals are stronger on the later albums but the lyrics on the early albums are more remarkable.

Moving forward.

I'm happy that I've changed so much. I'm not thinking of myself so much anymore. I used to be accused of being selfish by a couple of girlfriends, and I think that was probably because I didn't really feel all that invested in those relationships. It's strange, because I thought I could trick myself into thinking that those were the kind of relationships that I deserved. Even when I met my lady, I thought to myself "she's out of my league", which is the mentality I've always had. I had to get that nonsense out of my system.

I didn't even really try...I think that's the nice thing about this...my effort isn't so much on making myself appear attractive, it is much more focused on trying to understand the complexities of my partner and letting my affections grow organically within the bond that we've magically created.

It's been a nice change. I've grown a lot here.

Just lie in the grass for a while. Make gentle movements.

There's nothing wrong with you.

There's nothing wrong with love.

On the radio in Portland!

2009-07-16T15:45:00.000-07:00

I was lucky enough to be introduced to a nice fella named Mike about a month ago. We got to talking about music and stuff, and with some help from my lady friend, I was offered a guest spot on Mike's radio show "Signal to Noise Radio" on KPSU. I had a blast playing some Glasgow bands such as Life Without Buildings, Remember Remember, We Are The Physics, and of course Dananananaykroyd. You can check out the playlist for the show and have a listen here.

I ain't the worst that you've seen

2009-07-07T00:28:00.000-07:00

It's late and I have to get up for work in the morning, but I wanna write a little bit so here.

My new house is nice. Housemates are cool cats. They're currently out back smoking stuff and listening to various covers of "Jump". The Aztec Camera version is particularly good. I would hang out with them but it's been a long day and bed is cozier.

I have a new job as well. I happily parted with my unstable, unpleasant corporate temp job and am now working for a non-profit helping feed the hungry. It's only a temporary job, as they all seem to be these days, but I'm thinking that maybe they'll hire me on as a regular. It would be nice to have that part of my life straightened out.

I heard the most beautiful thing tonight. This couple that I know are getting married next month, and they've written their vows into a song that they will sing, along with a group of their friends. I heard the demo of the song tonight, and it totally blew me away. It was one of the most wonderfully heartfelt ways of expressing love that I've ever heard.

Bree invited me to go to writing group tomorrow night. I might just do it, even though I've got nothing to share just yet. I did however write out a rough outline for a short film; the skeleton for 7 scenes or so is there to be filled out. I just need to find the time. And I know I said before that I should ditch karaoke for writing, but I've not yet done so. But after tonight, I really should take my own advice. Singing only gets me into trouble.

12:45am, and the baby is crying. This happens every night. Yes, there is a baby living here with her mom. The Daddy is on the Warped Tour all summer, so I think that's why the baby is upset so often. It's hard to adjust to all of the noise in this house, but it's fine, I'll get there eventually.

There's lots to do. Gonna try sleep now x

Turn It On

2009-07-01T00:05:00.000-07:00

I was in the car and she told me she loved me. Seconds later, she broke into a Sleater-Kinney song, belting out a verse from Turn It On.

I have waited my whole life for that to happen.

I can only smile.

******

Today I moved house. It was exhausting as usual. I'm on my third Portland home in four months. This one's good though, and it's in a neighborhood named Brooklyn. Huh.

I went to karaoke to try and get out some of my tension from moving - moving makes me feel ill - and it only made me feel worse. I couldn't get anything right. I think I'm going to take a break from the karaoke for a while. I need to focus on writing instead.

I'm going to try and sleep in this new bed now. The person who slept in it before is a nice man who is out on tour for 3 months writing zines about bicycles and cities.

Things are evolving.

Two months in this relationship is coming up on Friday. Four months in Portland comes on Sunday. I'm nearly at six months in the US. Bottle Rocket is having its 1-year party soon too. Lots to write about!

Soon enough.

The Indie Travel Guide to Portland

2009-06-26T17:05:00.000-07:00

When I moved to Portland, without a job or purpose or anything cool like that, I volunteered myself to write the Indie Travel Guide Portland page for my friend Ian, the head honcho of How Does It Feel to Be Loved?. HDIF is London's best club night, as well as a terrific record label which puts out albums by Butcher Boy, Saturday Looks Good to Me, and Cats on Fire in the UK.

After wandering around in the rain for 2 months, I submitted my piece on Portland. I just realized that it's been edited and published, and you can read it here.

Hope you enjoy it!

Your ex is a man, my ex is a land

2009-06-20T14:05:00.000-07:00

More learning...more searching for materials with which to build a foundation for this Portland life.

My lady friend has been opening up about some concerns regarding my associations with Britain. Last night it was brought to my attention that I speak of Britain as one would speak of an ex.

I sometimes feel quite intimidated when compared to my friend's big ex. I don't think there's much worry about my big ex. But I'm starting to realize that the love of my life was not a person, but a time and place.

Britain may be 5,000 miles away, but having lived there for 2 1/2 years, having studied at the University of Glasgow, done a radio show on Subcity, a club night at Nice N Sleazy, was an active BAFTA member and film critic, attended services at the Scottish Presbyterian Church, lived with 9 different British flatmates over that time, dated a couple of British women, and on top of that worked at the BBC...I became part of British culture, and it became part of me.

This does not mean that I have compromised my integrity or lost my cultural identity. Being from Staten Island isn't really something I'm very proud of. It's the only borough in NYC that still votes Republican. It's an ugly little place which is most famous for having one of the largest landfills in the world. It is, quite literally, a dump. My associations with that place are largely negative, as it mostly consists of childhood and teen years, neither being particularly nice times of my life.

I don't think I ever felt self-love until Glasgow. 27 years of crushing stress and chaos gave way to two-plus years of relative peace, friendship, and adventure.

OK apparently I do romanticize this time. Coming back to America I knew that I was capable of love and happiness, and moved to Portland because it seemed like a good place to search for such things. And Portland is lovely, much less crushing than New York.

But what is my point...ummmmm...

Oh yeah

I get myself in trouble for using British vernacular. This happens. I still say "cheers" when someone holds open a door for me or serves me a drink or something. I still say "what do you fancy" instead of saying "what do you want". I still say "wee bit" instead of "just a little". I still say "hiya" instead of "hello". I think those are the most common offenders.

I do not do this on purpose. It's become second nature, like saying "bless you" when someone sneezes. I don't want to sound like a wanker. I spoke to James about this, and he says he still says the same things. He lives in the suburbs around New Jersey now, and gets funny looks when he says "ta" (I never really picked up "ta", though I did use "takk" whilst in Scandanavia). My lady friend is not the first to call me out on this language confusion. Back in January my friend from Brooklyn came out to visit me in London and she got on my case about this issue. She was right, it's pissing off people in America.

I'm having a difficult time letting go of my British past. I wasn't just a tourist, it was my life. It's hard to explain to people who haven't gone through this.

I'm still in love with Britain, but please don't think of it as a threat. When I remember Britain, I remember the power that I had discovered within myself, and I need to summon those powers here in Portland.

Carrie, I am making a birdhouse

2009-06-10T22:35:00.000-07:00

Once a few weeks back we were driving around, happy as can be, singing along to "Birdhouse In Your Soul". Then we pulled up behind a car in traffic and there was a birdhouse sitting sideways in the back window.

She had always predicted one big explosion.

Yesterday was a Space Mountain-type rollercoaster.

Stressing and wondering are counter-productive. Singing and shared moments work magic.

I'm learning lots about light now after having spent some time in the dark.

We went to Chop II for karaoke. My friend told the bartender that we had broken up. I felt sort of awful but admired her candor. I had been going to karaoke with my friend since the first night we met, over 5 weeks ago. We've probably been about 20-25 times. I had never sang before, mostly because my friend is a sensational vocalist and I was afraid of sucking hard. But since we were broken up and just friends, I felt less pressure and gave it a go. It felt good. I started with "Eleanor Put Your Boots On" followed by "Ever Fallen in Love", "Teenage Kicks", and "How Soon is Now". Two punk classics sandwiched by two ballads. All British bands, so she countered by singing all Portland bands. I was comfortable and had a blast. It was nice to just let go of worry and focus on having a fun time expressing myself. And it was awesome to dance again, I partly chose the Buzzcocks and Undertones because I needed so badly to dance to those tunes which I loved to play at Bottle Rocket. Of course it helped that the lyrics were appropriate for the way I was feeling.

We ended up watching Eternal Sunshine together.

Sometime later we found each other again.

Today was like nothing ever happened. We ate soup at the supermarket. I feel loose.

Job interview tomorrow morning.

Let's rebuild.

Another Girl, Another Planet

2009-06-08T20:57:00.000-07:00

I've got a broken heart. I was in deep, and she was confused. I had met all of her closest friends and family, and even her therapist. There was talk of a dog, a house, and even murmurs of a big Jewish wedding. It seemed to have huge potential, this insanely intense relationship that has utterly ravaged my entire being for the past month. I'm at the age where I want to meet someone who makes me think big things; someone who I can fall in love with regardless of our differences. For a few moments I thought I had found that person. But she didn't feel the same way. When she told me she loved me, I mistook it for romantic love, for I have never before had a friend in my bed who told me she loved me with any other connotation. I don't really know what she was feeling, it was all very confusing. Instead of having a lover, I now have a friend with whom I share an intimate history. And that is ok, because she is a foxy, witty, and unique friend and I'm happy to be in her life in a positive capacity.

She threw Muppets at me. She sang They Might Be Giants songs, and even held up a red dress on cue during "The World's Address".

We walked along the ocean for hours. It was like a movie. Or a dream.

I'm not as interesting as I used to be, I think that's what happened. I don't have any good friends in Portland, except for the lady friend who just left me. I'm beginning to think that this is a big issue, me not having any foundation or history in Portland. She has been here for a decade and knows loads of people, and therefore always dictated our social life. I came out to Portland with the confidence inspired by my moving to Scotland in 2006. I figured that it would be dead easy compared with moving to another country. But what I forget sometimes is that I went into Glasgow as a student, with a structure conducive to socializing. In Portland I'm just another passer by. When I moved to London, I made friends through the indiepop clubs. There are no such things in Portland, and I'm afraid Bottle Rocket would not go over well here.

This is a beautiful city, one of the very best places to live in America. I want to have a house and a dog and a family here someday.

I don't know though.

I have some friends in New York and Boston. Perhaps I'm better off heading back east. The job markets must be better than Portland, and I know for sure that there's an audience for Bottle Rocket out east. I might need a foundation; some friends and/or family around the corner couldn't hurt. Maybe I was thinking that starting my own family would be my own way of building a foundation.

I am terribly confused.

I had some big ideas. I felt my heart truly spark for the first time in nine years. When I recall that feeling my eyes swell with tears. I only wish that she could have felt it too.

I'm still able to feel it, which is exciting yet crippling. I was numb to it for nearly a decade.

I always wondered if this woman ever existed. I spanned an ocean and a continent, and I finally found her.

She believes in me. She is my best friend.

Thank you dearest

x

Happy Friday!!!

2009-06-03T00:39:00.000-07:00

I got laid off on Friday. It was an utter disaster. Usually we have a meeting at the beginning of our shift and the morning shift relays "useful" information to our shift, the swing shift. Well, there wasn't any supervision for the meeting. Someone said to me "uh, you might want to check your email". So I did, and got a sloppily written message in cutesy big slanty green font saying something to the effect of "SORRY I GUESS WE FORGOT TO TELL YOU THAT TODAY IS THE LAST DAY ON THE JOB. WHOOPSIE. THANKS FOR THE GREAT JOB. HAPPY FRIDAY!!!!". And that was how I was laid off. The supervisors fucked off to some off-site party to celebrate the end of the project I was working on. They didn't even invite us workers who brought the project to completion. It was insult after insult.

So that happened. I've been on the jobhunt since, only to be told "wow, you're great, but we just don't have anything right now" which is what I kept hearing 3 months ago when I moved to Portland.

Last night at karaoke a very small man came up to me and started talking shite about my girl. She was standing right behind him, so I was momentarily confused into thinking it was all a very bad joke, but then I realized that it wasn't, and so for the very first time in my life I contemplated punching a very small man.

I just saw Colin (aka Drums of Death) and Peaches. Colin used to do the Kaput! club night that I worked at with Duncan, Tom, and Laura in Glasgow. It was an incredible show, and Colin was phenomenal, I was really impressed with his energy and am sure that he is on his way to the big time.

Tomorrow night I might go see Far. It will satisfy my inner 20-year-old.

Thursday night I'm going to see Camera Obscura! My Maudlin Career is my favourite album of 2009 thus far. And they're from Glasgow as well, which makes me hyper thrilled. I never got to know any of them - only met Gav once but saw him all over the place, but we have a bunch of the same friends. I don't really know how to approach them, like, if I should even try to be cool and hang out or just sit back and watch the show like everyone else and not worry about anything more.

Friday night is Neko Case. I should get my ticket for this soon...maybe today...

Saturday night is Jens Lekman!

Far, Neko, Obscura, Jens....those are 4 of my favorites. What a week!

The appetite returns!

2009-05-22T16:09:00.000-07:00

Things are looking better. The hugs help, as does the sunshine. I'm loving Portland, particularly walking around SE and seeing all of the beautiful colors and random kitties and doggies. I can see what I want for my future on these walks.

I am still unsure about my job situation. I'm going to be laid off as soon as one week from now or as late as 4 weeks from now. I crave stability.

I don't write film reviews or music reviews any longer. I don't like being a critic so much these days, but I still want to champion small movies and bands.

St. Vincent is playing here on Monday at a theatre close by my house, and I wanna go. I don't know anyone here who likes her though. I may just go alone, which is ok. Camera Obscura are playing here soon, which has me giddy with delight. And my friend Colin is coming here as well, supporting Peaches, but it's on a work night so I might miss him. I need a job with normal hours so that I can see these musical friends who are coming all the way from Glasgow to Portland. Glaswegians are coming here!!

I have two movie ideas that I need to develop. One is a short and the other is a feature. I'm having difficulty finding time to nurture these ideas though, and I can't let it slip away. I started writing Bastards last summer after I moved to London, but it was so intense that I couldn't get past page 10, and I still think about it every single day. I think writing these other projects will help. I'm trying to figure out what kind of screenwriter I am. I listen to interviews with all of these other screenwriters and they're all so different; it's amazing how people approach the creative process in their own way. There aren't any rules, really, and since I'm writing on spec anyway I can just do what I want until someone likes it enough to give me money and tell me what to fix. I need to outline. Outlining is key for me, because my thoughts are so tangled up in emotional webs and they need to be straightened out...I need to carefully hand over my heart to my brain and find a balance so that the two can work together to create something personal yet coherent. I believe that I can do this.

Morrissey is 50 today.

I didn't know him at all

2009-05-16T13:38:00.000-07:00

Two weeks ago I got word that my grandfather was about to die. He had been suffering from lung cancer for about 10 years, but had contracted MRSA from all the chemo. I didn't really know what that meant, but I was told that he had about a week to live, if that.

He passed away this morning at age 74, a few weeks before his 75th birthday.

I never met him.

I know that he was a retired New York City Police Officer. He represents my Italian bloodline. He liked to travel and gamble; his favorite places being Italy and Las Vegas. From the stories I've heard, he was a hard man, very old-school, blue-collar NYC. I've been told that I get my hair from him.

I only met my father for the first time three years and three days ago. I can't even begin to write about this experience just now. I've spent the past 3 years trying to write about it, with little success of being articulate. But I digress. Shortly after meeting my father, I met my grandmother; both of them lived in New Jersey. My grandfather, however, lived in Florida, which would require a big trip. Instead of going to Florida, I got on a plane and went to the UK and Ireland to look at grad schools, and from there my life continued to change at an alarming rate. I had a new family. I ended a nearly 6-year relationship with the woman I was living with. I moved to Scotland, alone.

I thought there would be more time to meet my grandfather, but in all honesty I was afraid of what I'd encounter. When I got the message that he had a week to live, it triggered the worst bout of melancholy that I've had in years. It's made me terribly depressing to be around. It's nearly wrecked two friendships and given me the urge to leave Portland. Depression sucks hard. My body is feeling it more than it usually had. I could barely walk the other day. I've hardly eaten anything. I don't feel like shaving. My belly aches all the time. I don't have anything fun to say...everything is too serious. I'm lame. I just want to sit in a field in the middle of nowhere and sing Low songs.

I'm mourning somebody I never knew. But he is a part of me. I wouldn't have been born if it weren't for him. I wouldn't have crazy dark hair with random curls. I wouldn't tan so well. I wouldn't be so big. There are other things, less good things that he has done that have such deep implications on my life.

I didn't know him at all.

But he was a child once.

Portland 2 months in and there's quite a lot to discuss.

2009-05-09T11:28:00.000-07:00

Now for this.

Girls...oh my...I've had a silly month. I don't write too much on here because I worry that I'm going to upset someone. It doesn't really matter though, I can't control who is going to get mad at me anymore. I'm a nice person but it's really exhausting to keep everyone happy all the time. My dear friend came out to me about something recently that made me feel guilty for just being myself; I don't know what I'm supposed to feel but I don't want to feel guilty anymore.

I've been dating.
I don't like dating.
I mean "dating".

Like, meeting someone for drinks, sitting across from them and talking bullshit for 2 hours whilst every word and facial tick is scrutinized and then there's that awkward moment when the conversation stops for a second and a decision has to be made to either talk about the weather or to say goodbye. And then there's the getting up and being anxious about any sort of physical contact. It's like a sport where points are awarded on technicalities. Like synchronized swimming? No, something more aggressive, yet dancey, like fencing...whilst drunk. I don't like it. It's not for me. It's been a really really looooong time (the Clinton administration) since I met someone I clicked with and genuinely adored through and through. I'm done with extreme compromise. I don't like myself when I go on dates. I drink very fast in order to convince myself that it's all just a silly, fun exercise, one that I need more experience in so that I can be a proper grown up man and stop acting like a hopeless romantic. I hate trying so hard to hide the fact that I love music more than anything else, and I'm angry with myself for nodding and smiling at people when they say "ooh, I love indie...The Killers are my favorite band". Nothing against that band in particular, but if that's where you're at, there's a gazillion other boys out there for you that will be more than happy to engage romantically with you. And I need to stop going out with people like that and I need to stop thinking that I don't deserve the kind of gal I desire. It's done. I'm through with it. If it means that I'm going to be stuck in my room at night making mix cds for my lovely friends or watching a movie by myself, then that's going to be fine. I don't need the stress any more. It's giving me gray hairs and making my stomach hurt. I'm sad and I'm tired.

Say that's that.
That's that.

I'm starting over. Again, yes, again Joseph. I recently remembered what I'm capable of, as if the fog of the past decade has lifted, or I've adapted well enough to it that I can at least move forward without waiting for the sunshine that never seems to come. I feel like I'm 21 again, not in that I feel younger but that I feel confident that I'm going to make my dreams come true. I have something great inside of me and I'm going to nurture it. I won't cheapen myself any longer.

I hope this feeling lasts. I need a game changer, and I think this is it.

OK, I have to make mix cds for my friends now.

This is what happens at work

2009-04-29T13:47:00.000-07:00

1. Arrive at work at 3pm. There is some sort of social gaggle between shifts. They call this a "meeting".

2. Begin my duties. These involve standing in front of a printer, feeding paper into it and taking note of how many papers I've put into it. I do this for the next 8 hours of my life.

That is all.

Love to Los Campesinos!

2009-04-13T12:34:00.000-07:00

Easter was awesome. How awesome was it? Oh, well hey, this stuff all happened:

Pancakes.
Awkward flirtations.
Sky Larkin birthday cape.
Dananananaykroyd moment.
Los Campesinos!
Dancing.
Cheese fries.
Freaks and Geeks.

I write a lot about missing the UK and all, and for a few hours at the Wonder Ballroom last night I felt about as truly happy as I could have possibly felt at that very moment. An avid supporter of Los Campesinos! for the past couple of years, a band whose albums topped my best of the year list and whose Glasgow gig at King Tuts in 2007 was one of the very best gigs I had been to in my whole time in the UK. So to see them in Portland made me terribly homesick, I had actually been suffering anxiety and stomach pains all day leading up to the gig; feeling a bit like seeing an old lover one last time.

Though the room was only 25% full at best, I was still so happy to be up front, like a teenager getting to the gig early to stake out his post. Whilst having a chat about bomb drills during Desert Storm, a lovely, Scandanavian looking blonde girl in a pink dress interjected and we struck up a chat. My friends who know me well enough would laugh, knowing how flustered I get when a pretty girl talks to me, with my NO game and 190 mile per hour nervous pace of nonsensical banter. I sort of black out...it's freaking ridiculous to still be this way at age 30. I somehow kept it together and managed to get onto international travel, something she was about to do and one of my rare areas of pseudo-expertise. Whether or not I was doing well on this little social adventure went out the window, because at some point whilst Los Camp were soundchecking I noticed a really familiar guitar lick...I thought it was just my juke-brain-box for a minute, but once I realized that it was the guitar players actually playing a Dananananaykroyd song I had a mini-freak out. I tried to explain why I was so excited about their soundchecking but I got that dumb-founded look that one gives you when you say "OH MY GOD THIS IS A DANANANANAYKROYD* SONG!" to someone in America who now thinks you're a crazy person. So yeah, that happened.

* Dananananaykroyd are friends from Glasgow, and they're one of my favorite bands on the planet. They excite me.

Los Campesinos! were at the top of their game, even in front of a small, but very enthusiastic crowd. With all the sing-alongs, dancing, finger pointing, and shouting I felt like I was at a hardcore show circa 1998. That's the kind of energy that I live for at gigs. I felt like a teenager again, a very smart, semi-literate, dorky teenager with a heart bursting full of love and a fire in my hips. It was the single happiest hour of my life since arriving in Portland.

Oh, and there's this ridiculous notion amongst Portlanders that there's no dancing in Portland. Well fuck that, we were dancing to Los Camp. I don't know if it's because it was an all-ages show or whatever, but we danced our arses off. It was magic.

Lessons learned, and other topics not adequately covered in this blog post:

-I'm possibly maybe getting slightly better at chat with pretty girls, though still need to keep it together when something reminds me of Glasgow.
-That's probably why I never dated girls I actually fancied in Glasgow - too scared!
-I've still got it in me to exhaust myself at a gig.
-Portlanders DO dance. I saw it with my own eyes.
-I need to watch more Freaks and Geeks. Like, all of it.
-My friend Naomi has the patience of a saint for dealing with me this much.
-I should really pay attention to how much coffee I consume. It's way stronger in Portland than what I've been used to.
-Sky Larkin's fab and all, but Los Camp really need to bring Danananananaykroyd to the US next time 'round.
-How does one say goodbye to someone with whom they've met at a gig? Do you exchange info? Possibly a topic for another post...

It would have been lovely, but there's this thing

2009-04-10T14:03:00.001-07:00

At 3am on the west coast the only person in America that I'm following on twitter is one girl in Portland who is out at karaoke getting wasted and horny. As she drunkenly tweets about hot guys and bad music, the mid-morning clouds are shining over Britain. And last night my worlds lightly collided: when drunken Portland karaoke girl was sadly heading home alone, poking out between clever Graham Linehan tweets was an update from a girl in London who also sent a tweet about finally heading home. It gave me pause, since she's one of those girls that I've not known nearly enough but if I had continued living in London am pretty sure I'd have - for better or worse - fallen in love with her by now. It made me think of London and how I was really starting to hit my stride there after a rough start.

Then I looked at the date - April 10th. Fuck...the 10th...January 10th...visa expired...had to leave everything behind. It's been three months since I left the UK, and I'm starting to think of London more fondly/tragically, like it was a late-term miscarriage - something that was uncomfortable at first but after I let it into my heart I fell in love and eagerly working toward a better future for us. Today would have been 9 months in London. I would still be working at the BBC, I'd have made more awesome friends, I'd have finally gotten my shot as a guest DJ at HDIF, the guys at the falafal place around from the Buffalo Bar would know just how I like my order without even asking, I'd have had three more beautiful Bottle Rocket adventures in Glasgow, and I would have summoned the courage to make a move on that girl before getting suck in the friend zone. I'd be shopping for a wedding present for my friends Connie and Jamie who are getting married in June; they're beautiful and fun and I have such great memories of them and it kills me to think that I can't go to the wedding. There would be ATP in May, which I would be much better prepared for than last year, which caught me at a strange time in my life. I would have been able to sing and dance and clap and hug along to Dananananaykroyd's album launch show. I'd be dreaming up European adventures to Hungary and Greece, and checking Ryanair's website every day for incredible deals.

As it is, I'm in Portland and trying so hard to come to terms with the shape of things. I've already had some adventures here, but I'm really, truly concerned that I checked my heart at the security gate at Heathrow. Something just doesn't feel right.

But I'm powering on in a complicated haze of awful job, online dating, flathunting, great coffee, bad clubs, overpriced martinis, good gigs, and a handful of really odd social interactions.

Introducing...Portland blog thing links!

2009-03-31T17:50:00.005-07:00

I've found a few Portland blogs to add to the blogroll in the sidebar. PDX Pipeline has been a handy source for general Portland goings-on and such. Crappy Indie Music is a Portland scene blog that talks about bands that I don't yet know of but am sure to come across during my stay. The Portland Mercury is the best free alt-weekly, and they've got this Blogtown thing for local issues, and End Hits for music. I really like the Writing in Movement blog, though it's updated about as frequently as nap attacks but she's all neurotic and sweet and I have something of a blog crush on her.

On the non-pdx front:
My friend James has changed his blog site to the simpler TATNA, which isn't really anything yet but he's just moved back to the east coast so give it some time. He recently gave me some songs that he's done and they're really really lovely, lo-fi autobiographical folky wonderful things.

Oh, and I've finally reset my time stamp settings from GMT to Pacific.

Cheer up Portland, or I'm going to take this personally

2009-03-31T16:29:00.004-07:00

Oh Portland. Since I arrived here, Portland has been named The Unhappiest City in America. I somehow feel responsible for tipping the scales; in these harsh times they really didn't need another broke-ass pretend writer to take up that last seat at the bar. Oddly enough I love it here, and I'm beginning to think that I have some sort of morbid fascination for depressing cities. My other favorite city to live in was Glasgow, a city with deep seeded (and deep fried) sadness, which was known as the most violent city in western Europe, but it's probably the best indie scene on the planet. I've also longed to live in Stockholm, a city I've visited three times, though it is horribly cold, has bland food and expensive beer, but the people are so lovely!

But cheer up Portland, you're now also America's Most Sustainable City! That's right, when you cry, your tears feed your cabbage patch!

Oh, and it was also announced that Portland will be getting an Major League Soccer team! My British friends will attest that a footie team is just what every depressed, drunken city needs!

Portland has got a lot going for it, really. For starters, the beer is incredible. There are something like 32 microbrews here, and once I can afford to drink something aside from PBR, I'm going to go on a brew safari. And it's relatively cheap, I mean, all I can compare it to is British and other European prices, which are taxed through the roof so a pint would normally cost you around 6-8 US dollars. Here a good pint is around $4, with another dollar for a tip.

The whole tipping thing has got me a bit confused (I never really drank until I moved to the UK, where they don't tip). It's known that Portland prides itself on its service industry - there's a heavy anti-corporate feel here, so the ethic is to pay a bit more for local indies, so those locals have to step up their service in order to keep the Starbucks types out of the picture. And it's awesome to get a cup of coffee for $1 - but when you're pouring your own cup and bussing your own table, how much of a tip does the employee get for simply passing an empty mug over to you?

So yes, the beer and coffee are fantastic, really, the best I've had in America. The service is lovely and you pay a bit more for it, but it's still cheaper than most cities that are too busy to give a smile or a hot damn.

Otherwise, the Tri-Met public transit system in Portland is pretty ace, though shuts down way too early (1am). How are you supposed to get home after a proper piss-up at the pub? I'm kind of glad that I've still got a car, and am quickly learning about designated driver courtesies.

***

On another note, I've been really conflicted about this blog. It started out in Glasgow as a music blog, and later became the Bottle Rocket blog, but now that I'm neither in Glasgow or doing a club night I'm feeling a bit lost and misguided. It might take a while for things to pick up again, as I still don't have a regular Internet connection (I'm beholden to the library or cafe). I've thought about doing film reviews again, but it's a really bad time of year for film and I can't afford to see everything. Same with gigs, I just can't do that stuff with any regularity unless I'm guestlisted. Anyway, I'm starting a job this week, it's completely non-interesting and is actually out in the suburbs. I'd like to write on a more specific topic other than my first impressions of Portland, because that'll get old quickly and anyway I'm doing a profile of this city for the Indie Travel Guide that will contain most of the relevant content that I'm not putting up here. So if the only people who are reading this are my friends, I'm happy with that for now, and I hope you don't mind me being all discombobulated.

Jx

First stab at PDX clubbing

2009-03-22T14:12:00.002-07:00

Electric Feel at Fez

After 2 weeks and no proper dancefloor action, I had come across a blog review of this club night called Electric Feel. The writer hailed the night as a "deeply satisfying dancegasam", which is like woah, I like dancegasams, so hey, this could be for me! Plus, last night was Bottle Rocket in Glasgow, which would have been the happiest place on earth for me, so I needed to make an effort to do something other than wallow in my room with my Glasgow memories.

What I found was not dissimilar to the many by-the-numbers "indie/electro" nights found in many cities. And seriously now, I've been to a good number of these clubs in Europe and they're nearly always the same mix of 90% generic electro, with the odd 15-minute "indie" interlude (Walkmen, Pipettes, Clap Your Hands Say Yeah...those were the night's highlights), and a smattering of DFA-style electro-pop (MGMT, Cut Copy, Hercules & Love Affair). Fez is a big, swanky room, but it was fairly empty most of the night, and by 2 am the place was totally dead. I had given it my all and kept optimistic, but was terribly disappointed.

I'm not meaning to purposefully knock anyone here, and I don't want to come off as a snob, but it just wasn't for me and I doubt I'm going back. I've just got a lot of work ahead of me to find the special Portland clubs. This city has got one of the best indie scenes on the planet - fuck - Stephen Malkmus lives here for chrissakes.

Also, downtown is just a mess. Parking is impossible and it's littered with suburban meatheads, so I'm guessing that the people in the know are at awesome clubs hidden away on the other side of the river - WILL SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME WHERE THESE ARE? Thank you.

I'll keep in mind that my first Glasgow club experience was far worse - the Viper. What a nightmare that was.

Bottle Rocket March playlist

2009-03-22T14:20:00.002-07:00

Looks like Chris & Mike pulled off another incredible night in Glasgow last night. I've linked to all of the BR playlists on the sidebar, which is also where you can find the fantastic new Bottle Rocket blog that Chris has been updating regularly. Here's what they played:

1. Olivia Tremor Control - Opera House
2. Meursault - Salt Part One
3. Clap Your Hands Say Yeah - Satan Said Dance
4. Deastro - Shaded Trees
5. Les Savy Fav - Patty Lee
6. Pink Mountaintops - Execution
7. The Angels - My Boyfriend’s Back
8. Smith - Baby It’s You
9. David Bowie - Rebel Rebel
10. The Johnny Burnette Trio - Honey Hush
11. Squeeze - Up The Junction
12. Belle and Sebastian - Another Sunny Day
13. Juniper Moon - El Resto Di Me Vida
14. The Field Mice - If You Need Someone
15. Super Furry Animals - Rings Around the World
16. Hello Saferide - If I Don’t Write This Song
17. Guided By Voices - Surgical Focus
18. The Crystals - Doo Ron Ron
19. Liz Brady - Partie De Dames
20. Au Revoir Simone - Dark Halls
21. Sambassadeur - Kate
22. Pavement - Shady Lane
23. Cocteau Twins - Iceblink Link
24. Vivian Girls - Tell The World
25. Sons and Daughters - Johnny Cash
26. Wake the President - Miss Tierney
27. Jens Lekman - Black Cab
28. The Doors - Break On Through
29. The Stooges - Search and Destroy
30. Jaguar Love - Humans Evolve Into Skyscrapers
31. Death From Above 1979 - Blood On Our Hands
32. Pixies - Tame
33. Buddy Holly - Well…All Right
34. Gene Vincent - Be Bop A Lula
35. Danny & the Juniors - At the Hop
36. Casiotone For The Painfully Alone - Optimist Vs. Silent Alarm
37. Interpol - Obstacle 1
38. Gang Of Four - I Love A Man In Uniform
39. Santogold - L.E.S. Artistes
40. Pains of Being Pure At Heart - Everything With You
41. The Concretes - Scene Is Fine
42. Magnetic Fields - When My Boy Walks Down the Street
43. The Hidden Cameras - Breathe On It
44. The B-52s - Rock Lobster
45. Fleetwood Mac - Lies
46. Prefab Sprout - Faron Young
47. Bob Dylan - Subterranean Homesick Blues
48. The Dirtbombs - Chains of Love
49. The Detroit Cobras - My Baby Loves the Secret Agent
50. The Rolling Stones - Start Me Up
51. Weezer - Buddy Holly
52. Bruce Springsteen - Glory Days
53. Andrew W.K. - Party! (You Shout)
54. The Go! Team - Huddle Formation
55. Los Campesinos - You Me Dancing
56. Nirvana - Molly’s Lips
57. McLusky - Lightsabre Cocksucking Blues
58. XTC - Ballad Of Peter Pumpkinhead
59. Talk Talk - It’s My Life
60. Altered Images - Don’t Talk To Me About Love
61. Martha Reeves and the Vandellas - Jimmy Mack
62. The Smiths - You Just Haven’t Earned It Yet Baby
63. The Police - I Can’t Stand Losing You
64. Madonna - Into The Groove
65. Le Tigre - Deceptecon
66. Penguins - Earth Angel

And that's where I wanna be.