Live Remote from San Francisco Gallery 16’s “100 Records”
Friday, May 7th, 3pm – 6pm
on Put the Needle On the Record with Billy Jam
Musician/ artist/ curator Sonny Smith (of Sonny & The Sunsets who performed on WFMU during SXSW) currently has a unique exhibit at San Francisco’s Gallery 16. Entitled “100 Records” it features the cover art for one hundred seven inch records by 100 bands/artists that never existed. Actually the band names & song titles (200 in all for Side A & B) were all dreamt up by Smith who then commissioned a hundred artists to create corresponding cover art for these fictional bands’ singles. Smith then, with other musicians, set about making the music to go along with these imaginary 45s. He then built a jukebox (also on the display in the gallery) to playback these songs. This coming Friday WFMU will set up its remote broadcast unit smack in the middle of the “100 Records” exhibit when Smith will be among the many guests on the air. Also scheduled to stop by are Gallery 16’s Griff Williams, Live Human, DnZ, Z-Man, B-Cause, and more to be announced. Gallery 16 is located at the corner of Bryant & Third Streets in downtown San Francisco and is open to the public. This WFMU broadcast of “Put The Needle On The Record” with Billy Jam happens at local San Francisco time noon to 3pm, which is 3pm to 6pm Jersey City time, on Friday May 7th.
JESS: In last night’s dream someone talked about how a typeset page is rigidly ordered and composed, but still sometimes contains the smeariest formal derangements available to art.
CLEM: Same as a rectangular canvas. This is all so obvious. This is 100-level. You think better when you’re awake. “Intellectual” dreams are rarely worth relating to the waking.
JESS: Thank you. I learn so much from you. Every day. Maybe we could write an entry-level textbook about “thinking” sometime. Together, like the Krugmans. From a laptop in a bed in St. Croix
CLEM: Emily Gould quotes Sam Lipsyte in Vice on being a young writer before the Internet was what it is: “there was no real record of when you were a dumb, scared, angry baby who didn’t know how to write yet.” I like that. You totally are a dumb, scared, angry baby who
JESS: I’m not that angry. I’m too comfortable to be angry.
CLEM: You sometimes get angry about how comfortable you are. I want someone to murder part of you. Then you’ll be scared, and you’ll give some of yourself up, and you’ll start helping other people.
JESS: I dislike talking about the world in abstract psychological terms. What the hell is a “part of myself”? My leg? What does it mean to “give up a part of myself”? What does it mean to be “scared” about “opening up”? If I say I’m “vulnerable”—vulnerable to what? Lyme disease? I know these aren’t meaningless expressions. I wouldn’t prefer an Orwellian law that required everyone to only talk about themselves in nutritional terms. Still. I’m not afraid of opening up. I’m just selfish and comfortable and unshowered.
CLEM: Have you thought about therapy?
JESS: Have you thought about ESL training?
CLEM: Have you—-Hey, my boss just showed up. Gonna get back to work.
JESS: OK, love you
CLEM: Love you too.
…it’s that time of year again!
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Shut. Up! Press here for more information [indicates a swath of stomach]. You don’t believe I’m a real woman? Here, follow me to a sushi restaurant in the American Southwest. All this stucco is new. My friend’s dad did the construction. You’re fired. Your friends ate marijuana, they’re at the multiplex watching a horror film. Fast forward to Bergen’s Bagels. Of all the people standing in Bergen’s Bagels right now, you love scallion cream cheese the most. I just love watching you type. It’s seriously like seeing Glenn Gould tickle the ivories. Kitten on the keyboard! You’re the T. Monk of the iPod Touch. Living in Vermont makes you a bad writer. Living in Maine makes you a good writer. Living in New York is expensive, unless you’re a bisexual punker.
Summer camp, lemonade. “Stop me if you think you’ve heard this one before” (The Smiths): Bruce Jay Friedman and Leonard Michaels walk into a Catskills retreat. They both stand up at dinner and make toasts, both of which involve elaborate jokes that begin… [andrew note to self: fill in joke later, after you have more life experience. maybe join merchant marines? look into management positions at care centers for developmentally disabled adults away from the east or west coasts. editorial work and the internet are killing your writing. you are becoming a great chef. listen to your loins.] I haven’t been diagnosed with ADD, but I will follow anything stimulating or sparkling if it flits by without menace. It’s hard to tell how menacing something is if you’re only looking at its ass. Don’t worry about ‘remix culture.’ Don’t worry about your handicap.
Discussion question: What was Andy Capp’s handicap?
It’s impossible to be gentle with a placemat. I’ve gone AWOL behind a paywall. Sucking on my Wall Street Journal. I’d love to see the leather jackets of the world sublimate into boiling-hot black droplets all at once. That would make New York City bearable again. I live in New York City.
- Fun Jason Polan project in NYC w/ Esopus
- I myself have sampled F. “Breadstixxxx” Horrorwicky’s Fish Stew, and can attest to its excellence, and so it’s a great boon that Waffle Songs has posted her interpretation.
- Sometimes I find myself mentally making epigrammatic observations about the little Nicholson Bakery pleasure-giving tabs that hang off of the good, everyday white nodules of contemporary life. Then, profound web-based solipsist that I am, I think, I’ll write a short, epigrammatic observation about this mental/contemporary phenomenon on my blog. Then I remember the presence of Magic Molly and I stop, because I know she’s taking care of it—she’s got it covered.
- “Don’t be one of those writers who sentence themselves to a lifetime of sucking up to Nabokov.”—Geoff Dyer in the Guardian. (via Juliet.) Is this a crazily brilliant pun on the word “sentence”? I think so. E.g. to emulate or too-slavishly worship Nabokov—on the sentence level of your prose, emulating those rich, sentencey sentences—is to give a prison sentence to your writing?
- The inimitable A Rockridge Life: “Blanc doesn’t soothe me as hard.” I wonder when her usage of “soothe” is going to catch on as a national slang trend.
- Plebiscite returns from hibernation with a generous slice of hilarious fan-fiction based on a “notorious” Bay Area Yelper. Also: Come to MSF this Saturday for Plebiscite’s always classic “Mission Stoned Food.” Classic!!!!