Cerebellum Blues

Movie Review: "No Country for Dull Men".

A few years back, I devoured Cormac McCarthy's No Country for Old Men, turning the pages as though it were fine piece of pulp fiction, which in a way, maybe it is. As a book NCFOM is a straightforward chase, with just enough depth to remind you from whose mind it sprung. And the depth is good depth, in that it doesn't slow you down, doesn't make you yearn to get back to the action. As a movie, it's still a chase, but way overcomplexified with cutaways to Tommy Lee Jones (depth), who laments with show-stopping (literally) regularity what the world has come to. Don't get me wrong: TLJ does a great job, but every time he pops up on screen, no matter how great his performance, he's like a parent popping up at a party and you're like "Dude, uh, tryin' to have a good time here. Don't need your bemused musings on the festivities." For the first half of the movie the TLJ scenes work because they create some suspense: what will happen when he comes face to face with the bad guy? But as the move grinds on, you start to wonder if TLJ will ever DO anything. (SPOILER ALERT, IF YOU THINK SOMETHING ALREADY ROTTEN CAN BE SPOILED) He doesn't. He just retires and starts boring his wife to tears. This is all very sucko for me, because I had HIGH hopes for this flick. The Coen Brothers, CM, a straightforward plot --- what's not to love? Um, the movie.

THE GOOD - Great villain, brilliant cinematography, excellent weaponry

THE BAD - Too darn slow, pardner...

OVERALL RATING: 2 PICKS (out of five)

Elvis Costello, King of America.

Recently, I had the extreme good fortune to see Elvis Costello and Clover at the Great American Music Hall in San Francisco. For those of you who have forgotten (me included), Clover was the band that backed Elvis on his debut album, My Aim Is True, and whose members went on to do various things over the ensuing decades, but nothing so important as that first Elvis Costello album. Who could put such a show together? Who on earth could get Elvis, a forward-looking artist if there ever was one, to return to 1977? Austin de Lone. Yeah, I didn't know who he was either, but apparently he's a very influential dude in Marin County music circles, which is where Clover hails from, and one of the nicest guys in the biz. Tragically, Austin's son, Richard, has Prader-Willi syndrome, a chromosome disorder that affects 1 in 15,000 births and leaves its victims perpetually starving. The concert was a benefit for Austin's son and an effort to raise awareness of the disease. And what a concert it was. I attended the first show (there were two), and while I wasn't able to see much from my seated position back by the sound board, it didn't matter, because I could hear just fine. Elvis played the entire My Aim Is True album, and then plucked gems of tunes he wrote during the making of the album, but that didn't make the cut. Man, if I could write songs equal to the ones Elvis discards, I'd be pretty pleased with myself. What an insane talent. In fact, when I think about how many words Elvis has to remember on any given night, how many chord changes he has to know and how many arrangements he has to have down pat, I figure there's only one possible conclusion: EC is a space alien sent to earth by some benevolent power back when it seemed we would all be assimilated by disco. Higher Power, if you're reading this, thank you. And please help out Austin's son.

Dusting off the Boogie Simul-Class.

Pictured at right is my Mesa Boogie Mark II C Simul Class, which I purchased new back in the 80s and cranked to earsplitting volumes on gig after gig through the very early 90s. (Seriously, we were so loud, when we played the Paradise Lounge in San Francisco, the owner/manager/something came up to us afterwards and said, "You guys are NEVER playing here again. That was the loudest fucking thing I have EVER heard.) Yup, when it comes to decibels, the Boogie delivers. But what about tone? Well, it's got good clean tones, good crunch and good distortion, but it's not perfect. I always thought my Boogie was a bit harsh and WAY too loud. But the other day, I was fooling around with it, and I was pleasantly surprised. Yes, it can be a touch brittle and compressed sounding. It can be a bit dark. But in context -- in other words, with bass and drums -- the Boogie's tone actually works quite well. Plus, the amp lets you switch between 15 Watts and 60 Watts, and at 15 Watts, it's actually manageable in the volume department. Last but not least, this is My Amp, the one that I have played virtually all my gigs with (now in the distant past) and is filled with memories. So I am now officially reconsidering any sort of new amp purchase. Instead, I'm going to look for some sort of a pedal or preamp box that could smooth out the highs a little bit and warm up the mids. Wish me luck!

The Pick of Destiny.

Here I am writing about picks AGAIN and yet I just had the nerve to call Clapton's prose dull? What an ass I am. But anyway, back to picks, or should I say The Pick, as in The Pick of Destiny. As faithful readers know, I just purchased a pile of picks and after brushing every last one of them against the strings, I finally sttling on a Dunlop Jazz III Stiffo. Well, as those of who know me will attest, I am one to change my mind, and as of yesterday, the new winner is a 1.14 mm thick Dunlop Pitch Black Tortex pick. At first strum, this pick was too slick for me, as the surface of the pick is completely smooth. But then I had the notion to Krazy Glue a patch of sandpaper to one side and as Robert Frost would say, that has made all the difference. I originally tried the sandpaper trick on my Dunlop Stiffo, and it was fine, but I have since discovered two things: 1) I don't like the feeling of the Stiffo's nylon material against my finger and 2) I only like having texture on the thumb side of a pick, not the finger side. Hey, I'm picky (groan).

Clapton: Proof positive that you can't judge a book by its cover.

Clapton -- up there with Cher, Bono and Madonna -- in the name department has finally put out an autobiography and it's... a mystery. Not literally, of course, but figuratively, in that it's a total mystery to me how a guy who has lived his life at the very center of the rock universe could spin his life tale with no more fire than you would expect from a Wal Mart greeter. Wait, I take that back. I bet Wal-Mart greeters have seen some weird stuff; besides, a lot of them are simply older folks out making themselves useful, and to think that they have not lead interesting lives because of their employer would be a mistake, I'm sure. But back to Clapton. Here's a guy who was once called god, who was a member of the Yardbirds and Cream, who was asked to become a member of the Stones, and yet who's retelling of his life story is about as much fun to read as it is to put strings on a guitar. It's painstaking, it's tedious, it's the complete opposite of fun, it sucks. Sorry, all you Clapton fans out there, but god should have hired a real writer. To be fair, I have not yet to finish the book, but I've skimmed my way to 1972 and let's face it, after 1972 and until the death of his son, Clapton didn't do a whole lot, so my already meager expectations are likely to be no more than met.

Okay, just read the above, pretty harsh, but I stand by it. One more thing: the silver lining in the book is that the contrast between the lifeless prose and the full life it describes paints Clapton as conflicted figure. Here's a guy who pretty much wanted to simply play some great guitar and yet got sucked into a lifestyle he neither enjoyed nor wanted. Had he penned a few extra words on this topic, the book could have been great. Kind of like Kurt Cobain's story, but without the suicide ending. Also, I'm something of a guitar geek, so I would have appreciated more thoughts on Clapton's gear and how he developed his technique. I also would have loved to read more about how his truly great songs -- Layla especially -- were written. Instead, the entire book is like a list: first I did this, then this, then this. It's almost like he's looking back on another person, one he doesn't like and wishes he could forget.

What the hell did I do to Mont Blanc?

First, my MB fountain pen goes AWOL. Now my MB ballpoint breaks in mid senten.... Yeah, just like that. I will wager that such a thing has NEVER happened to a Bic. Looking for the Krazy Glue now.

It's about time: Reverbnation now on Facebook!

Facebook finally has a nice jukebox player to compete with MySpace. I just added it to my profile today. Over the next several months I will add more songs and fill out all the details. Stay tuned.

In the meantime, here's my Facebook link.
 

Searching the plectrum spectrum for the Pick of Destiny.

I admit, the picture at left might give you the impression that I have a bit of an obsession with picks, and, well, what can I say, it would be the right impression. I first started over-worrying about my choice in picks years ago, back when I used Fender Mediums and Herco .50's, and I became convinced that my plectrum choices were holding me back as a player. Right or wrong, I began searching for a pick that would help me play better, especially when doing rhythm parts, which I have always feared more than leads, since rhythm demands, uh, rhythm and solos aren't so groove dependent. I finally settled on Dunlop 1 mm Jazz picks, and used them happily for over a decade. Last week, though, I was surfing around the 'net, and I noticed all these new pick choices. I had to check 'em out, so I placed my orders and here are the results:

(from top to bottom, left to right)

Clayton 1 mm Teardrop: Love this pick. In fact, along side my Dunlop 1 mm Jazz picks, Clayton teardrops have always been the "other pick" in my plectrum stash. They're hard and very smooth, but the teardrop shape really helps with grip and control, and they are fast on the strings.

Dunlop 474R Stubby Jazz Guitar Pick - The Stubby's are a contoured pick, thicker at the top, less so at the tip, and in between a 'thumb well'. Must have seemed like a good idea at the time it was developed, but in use, these picks feel to chunky to me and kinda cheap.

Cool Pick "Juratex" Jazz Pick: Cool pick, no pun intended. The grip tape patch makes for a pick that you won't drop -- unless you're doing your best Pete Townsend -- but the size is a touch too big for me. Bummer, 'cause I really like these picks.

Dunlop Tortex 1.14 mm Jazz Pick: Dunlop claims that Tortex recreates the feel and wear characteristics of turtle shell, but since I've never tried a turtle shell pick, I'll just have to take their word for it.  If these picks do indeed mimic true tortoise tone and feel, then turtle housing is just too slippery for my tastes.

Dunlop Jazztone Large: Too big, too thick, not for me.

Dunlop Tortex .88 mm Jazz Pick: See Tortex above: This pick is a little thinner, but I prefer the thicker one.

Dunlop Ultex Jazz III: I like this pick. It's hard and fast like the Tortex and the Clayton, but with some texture from the writing on it that really helps with grip issues.

Clayton Black Raven: Given my strong preference for smaller picks, I should have ordered tear drop version of this, and I still might. Feel-wise, it's very similar to the first Clayton mentioned above but its matte finish makes it a little grippier, I think.

Dunlop Tortex Standard and Jazz, both 1 mm: Standard pick is too big for me, Jazz pick not thick gauge enough. Both a bit slippery.

Dunlop Jazz III (red) and Dunlop Jazz III Stiffo: My favorite going into this plectrum extravaganza was the Dunlop Jazz III, but the Stiffo is right up there with it. Both my kinda pick: small, fast, stiff and textured enough for decent grip.

Going forward, I'm going to try the Clayton Black Raven Raven in a 1 mm teardrop, but the Pick of Destiny for me will most likely be the Dunlop Jazz III. Unlike the other stiff picks, the Dunlop is a bit mellower against the strings, and doesn't create the same brightness that Tortex and the like seem to.

Hallelujah.

Way, way, way, way, way back in high school, I first heard Get Your Ya Yas Out by the Stones, and over time, the intro to Jumpin' Jack Flash became one of those seemingly simple guitar riffs I would go to my grave not knowing. Unlike, the opening progression to LIttle Wing or Eruption, the intro to JJF truly sounds like something any idiot could play. Yet, like many other Stones tunes -- and Beatles numbers for that matter -- should you have the misfortune of hearing JJF being performed by a bar band, it will most assuredly be played incorrectly. Not that it sounds crappy played with a bar chord and using single notes for the core of the riffage, but it sure as hell doesn't sound like the version on Get Your Ya Yas Out. I tried a regular tuning. I tried open D, which I read somewhere held the secret. Open E. Open G. Using a capo. Nothing worked. Then, last week, I decided, I bet the Internet cold help me out with this. ( I can be a little slow.) Many links lead down false roads, but Wikipedia held intrigue. It said:

"When played live at the Rolling Stones Rock and Roll Circus Richards played the riff in standard tuning, and ever since the band's 1969 American Tour he played the riff in open G tuning with a capo on the fourth fret. "Jumpin' Jack Flash" has since appeared on the live albums Get Yer Ya-Ya's Out!, Love You Live, and Flashpoint."

Nice, but... the FOURTH fret? That couldn't be, I figured, because JJF goes B, B, A, B, D, A, B, D, etc., so the right fret would be the second, allowing me an open A for the critical third note. I bought a capo, popped it in place on the second fret, figured out the riff and, and, and... it still didn't sound RIGHT. It's all a it of a blur, but as I was falling asleep Wednesday,  JJF was going through my head and I realized that the all important third note is not DOWN, it's something OTHER. Thursday morning (yesterday) I clipped the capo onto the FOURTH fret of my Strat, and noodled. And noodled. I played the record. I noodled some more.

It all seemed hopeless.

Until I hit the magic note.

THE MAGIC NOTE.

Wiki is right. To play JJF and sound like Keith on Ya Ya's, tune your guitar to open G and clip the capo to the forth fret. Then: strum the open B with two hard with downstrokes, one light downstroke, then fret the A sring on the 9th fret and catch that note on an upstroke, hit the open D string, and doublestop the D and G strings at the 7th fret, pushing them them up slightly, repeat 2 more times using a downstroke, and hit the open B again with two hard downstrokes.

To celebrate in Keith style, do a line of coke, mainline a bit of heroine, take a huge swig of Rebel Yell and chase it all with a vintage Bordeaux. Cheers, mate!