Words Seem Out Of Place

Photograph by Chris Gabrin I like to think this was photo was taken at a diner near the Chelsea Hotel, back in the day, maybe right before William Burroughs meandered in, ordered a black coffee and winked in Debbie's direction. Maybe he was meeting Patti Smith, who sat by the window, engrossed in Rimbaud. Maybe David Johansen had just kissed Debbie goodbye and strolled out the door. Maybe I was sitting at a table nearby, watching it all unfold. Maybe I even snapped this picture. Too young, you say? Eh. Don't do the math; it won't add up, but in some alternate reality it might've happened. My film-and-music-nerd buddies Jason Blanco and Dean Garman were there and scarfing down pancakes while Debbie sipped tea and I slurped coffee and we both raved about the Ramones. Anything's possible. Two bands hooked me on the power of rock as a kid: the Pretenders and Blondie. Then came U2, then came Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Soundgarden etc. But it really started with the v...

Heart of Glass: Debbie Harry Blondie holds a special place in rock music history, but also in my life. I've been under their sonic spell for as long as I can remember. Musically, Blondie blend elements of several different styles—new wave, punk, girl group, disco, reggae, rap, pop—into a sound truly their own. They were also one of the first visually memorable bands in my life—thanks in large part to lead singer and cultural icon Debbie Harry's amazing cheekbones and avant-garde style. They're unlike any other band before or since. Harry enthusiastically embraces and playfully subverts the blonde bombshell archetype at every turn. Just listen to her subtle shifts in phrasing and delivery on songs like "Call Me", "One Way or Another", or "Hangin' on the Telephone." She smoothly segues from a sweet purr to a frisky growl in a heartbeat. Harry also understands the importance of visuals in rock music, and few performers have ever been...

In which our narrator tries to read his way through the endless stacks of books that are slowly overtaking both his bookshelves and his life. If you think it's been a while since the last post in this series, you're correct. During that stretch, I finished Stephen King's  It . I'm a longtime King lover, so I'm an easy mark for this one, yet so far I'm not ranking it in my top five King books. I'm fine with the excessive length (1,100 pages) if it's warranted, but at times it felt like needless meandering. Still, a terrific book, at times also terrifying and at others heartbreaking. And, um, that ending? I finished the book several weeks ago and I'm still not sure how to discuss it. You can read about the scene I'm referring to here . To say it yanked me right out of the book is an understatement. I'm no prude, but even I was disturbed by it. It's not only distasteful but also feels like a narrative leap that comes out of nowhere. ...

You can read the following article at Sequart , but I wanted to archive it here also. Punk rock records spoke to me like few others ever had, and they've been an integral part of my life since my late teens. The music also reminds me of people I met along the way who loaned me their old beat up copy of 1969: The Velvet Underground Live or extolled the virtues of Television's Marquee Moon . The music of Patti Smith, Lou Reed, the New York Dolls, and Iggy Pop, among others, also inspired me to question authority—and truth be told, distrust it—and to live by certain principles. As a Gen Xer, this was already baked into my genetics, of course, but music, art, and literature inspired by a punk ethos just further cemented my approach. Plus there was the aesthetic of punk rock, the art and design of it all. When I do design work, I constantly remind myself to use clean lines and bold yet readable typefaces, to remove any and all elements that are extraneous and don't add a...