WFMU's Beware of the Blog

My Night at the Sleep Lab

So I've been having a lot of trouble sleeping.  Fortunately, I have this forum wherein I can compel our global readership to share their related experiences and advice.  The basic problem is this:  I don't usually have difficulty falling asleep, both due to work-related mental exhaustion as well as the fact that I take a prescription medication for anxiety also often prescribed for insomnia.  However, after anywhere from three to five hours, I wake up, and that seems to be that.  My pulse is elevated, though my mind is not particularly troubled or racing; I'm just awake, and can't get back to sleep—no way, no how.

I decided after six weeks or so of this mounting hell to avail myself of a local sleep lab, one affiliated with and on the premises of a reputable local hospital.  I'd read about these places before, and went in aware that they are basically designed to diagnose and treat a condition called sleep apnea, which I didn't really think fit my particular symptoms—but who knows, right?  I needed help and thought that it might even be an interesting experience.

I checked in to the sleep lab at 9 p.m. per their instructions.  The first thing that aroused my skepticism was that no one bothered to take my blood pressure or ask for a list of the prescription medications I take (I take a low-dose antihypertensive that I've been taking for years, plus the aforementioned anxiety pill—possibly relevant?!?!)  The room itself was less like a single hospital room, more like a single room at a really cheap motor hotel, I guess in an attempt to simulate the conditions under which most of us sleep.  (The techs kept saying, "you can watch TV now," as if this was some great gift.)

I was then hooked up to a variety of wired contacts, all connected to my body with surgical tape:  one behind each ear, two or three on various points on my skull, one below my left eye, one above my right eye, two on my chin, two on my chest and one on my back.  Then adjustable elastic strips were applied around my neck, chest and waist.  Now it's time to go to sleep!  Any time I needed to pee, Mohammed (not the Prophet, the sleep lab tech) had to unhook 2 main wires, so that I could carry the central receiver box (about the size of a VHS tape) to the bathroom with me, do my business, then come back and get re-hooked.  I was out for the first 1.5 hours, up for another hour and then basically asleep for another four hours until 6 a.m. when the techs woke me up.  Mohammed said, "Mr. Berger, your sleep was excellent."  If I'd been thinking, I might have asked him to qualify that statement.

Grammatical Adventure on the E Train

If you saw a flyer boasting "Prostitution Reform" crumpled up on the floor of the E train, you'd pick it up, too. Dirt, footprints, grammatical errors, and a most confusing message... nothing could have provided more entertainment for Maria Levitsky and I, who giggled all the way home.

I challenge any of you grammar geeks out there to take a stab at this. Download the PDFs:  front  |  back

They’re Tearin’ Down the House I Was Brung Up In

I often get little messages from my subconscious in the form of song lyrics. I’ll be going along, doing something or other—taking a shower, walking to work, washing the dishes—and I’ll realize I’m humming a song, and then if I pay attention and figure out what song it is, it’ll turn out that the lyrics are making a little commentary on something that’s been on my mind. Lately I’ve found myself humming an old country tune called “They’re Tearing Down the House I Was Brung Up In,” and I sure wish I could post an MP3 of it for you, in case you’re not familiar with it, or at least put up the lyrics, but it seems that the whole wide Internet has never heard of it. But it’s a real song, I promise.

I guess the reason that song’s been in my head is that the people who own the Carpenters’ old house in Downey, California, are getting ready to tear it down. This is the house that was on the cover of some Carpenters’ album, and apparently rabid Carpenters’ fans (Who knew?!) are all agitated because they consider the house to be a SHRINE. It’s where anorexic Karen collapsed before she died! The fan who’s put himself in charge of saving the house calls it “our version of Graceland,” although apparently there are no guided tours, no souvenirs, no Richard Carpenter sightings—oh, wait: I think he’s still alive. Anyway, the people who bought the house are tired of obsessed weirdos peeking in the windows, crying through the locks, and they want to tear the place down and build a McMansion or something, while the fans are hoping the city of Downey will declare it a historic landmark. Maybe the fans should stage a hunger strike in front of Downey city hall.

A long time ago Sluggo worked the overnight shift as a proofreader at a big New York City law firm, but since he’s dyslexic he spent most of his time drawing pictures for the people he worked with. One of them happened to be an obsessed Carpenters fan, so one night Sluggo drew a picture of himself sitting on Karen Carpenter’s grave, eating a picnic. He meant it to be funny, but his colleague burst into tears and never spoke to him again. It’s kind of scary to think that if you get enough people like that together, they might make trouble for you, if you're the kind of person who would buy the former home of someone who sold a lot of record albums. In the 1970s.

Thanks for reading my blog post this week, and please give generously to the WFMU Marathon.

Berlitz Drama 7"

I first heard this 1982 Dutch single on Jon and Tovah Olson's Inzane podcast show, on a particular installment where they just played slabs of weird 7" singles they found floating around on their travels with Wolf Eyes/Dead Machines. I don't know why I love this one so much, perhaps it's because it's unlike much of the minimal synth/coldwave stuff. These alien, almost metallic twittering birds, a distant prop plane buzzing by, then this screwed up synth line and anguished voice fighting his backing bird bed. The gentle piano outro. Weird stuff. The flip focuses more on that voice than the bizarro environs around it. Enjoy: "Fruhling" (MP3), "Herrmann" (MP3).

National Rifle Association: A Legacy of Conservation (mp3s)

Open Spaces (0:18)

Just Like Any Other Animal (0:30)

But Not All People (0:31)

The Earth Is All We Have (1:00)

Fallout (:20)

Preservation (0:31)

The Year 2000 (0:20)

When the Blue of the Night Meets the Gold of the Day (0:31)

Conservation (0:30)

You Better Do Something About It (0:30)

Step Off (0:20)

Water Over the Dam (0:20)

Starvation (0:30)

Litter Bag (0:28)

Freeways (0:29)

Wildlife Habitat (0:31)

More Than Talk (0:29)

More Than Your Footprints (0:30)

River (1:01)

Educated Americans (0:30)

Imagine walking into a record store, say, Cheapos on Mass Ave in Cambridge, and seeing an album cover (front cover image) with a nice oil painting of ducks in flight. Flip it over, and National Rifle Association of America letterhead is staring back at you (back cover image). This is an album that you buy.

BUY ME, or at Least Label Me: Why is Culture Sold to Us?

     In the halcyon days of 1638, when the first printing press was shipped to the US, the colonists imagined that the ability to communicate with many people simultaneously would do massive amounts of good for the new world.  I feel I shared that sense of limitless joy last week while reading the NY Times.  It was there on page one that I discovered something buried within me, needing to be labeled.  For years, I had been carving out my identity as an over-educated artist/DJ/black sheep of the family/potential Buddhist/educator/gluten-free/bohemian.  That all came crashing to the floor when I recognized myself, as an 'EcoMom'! 
     Not only was I apparently in denial, but alas, I was doing it on my own.  Thankfully, the printed word hipped me to the many groups I could be part of, that could offer me support in this rough transitional moment.  Of course, you can see my unbridled joy at this important discovery.  What was I doing swapping out vinegar mixed with water as a window cleaner,  when I could be in a chat group trading quips about my kitchen smelling like fish and chips, but with very clean windows?  According to the article over 9,000 women have committed themselves to an organization that encourages them to unplug appliances when not in use, and to cut back on the amount of waste they generate by using washable containers for their kids' lunches, instead of plastic bags. Great!  Except, why do we need to be working toward a merit badge and do this in a group?  What ever happened to the pioneer spirit?  I fear it is cloaked in we-are-all carrying-the-same-cloth-totebag consumerism
     I can't find fault with many of the wonderful ideas that crop up in the latest living room version of Tupperware parties.  I use low VOC paints in my house, but this newspaper reporting stinks of a marketing moment gone wild.  Lately, many articles I read in the paper of record that don't detail body counts in East Timor, relate a story that suggests the author knows at least 3 people who are  doing this miraculous new 'thing' and it needs to be chronicled as a trend.  I know we are all still talking about the cultural importance of roller blades, or 'in-line' skates as we now know them to be more impartially called...but what about the substitution of the marketplace for thinking, looking and feeling?  Why does 'all the news that is fit to print' not feel the need to discuss the addiction to marketing and shopping that seems to fuel our 21st society?  Articles in home design magazines chiding happy readers to go green suggest buying window cleaner made with vinegar, instead of making your own.  "Throw away your old wooden chairs" (add to the landfill) "and buy new ones made from recycled soda bottles!" 
     Woman are the targeted audiences in this green marketing revolution.  Artist Martha Rosler skewered the disconnect between domestic reality and world tensions in the 1960's and 70's in her Red Stripe Kitchen photo montage, above, and Semiotics of the Kitchen video work that are still very resonant today.

WFMU includes music made 100 years ago, still sounding as crackly as when it was first recorded, next to home grown DIY tuba toots, and computer generated hum.  I don't know exactly what we would call it, but we don't sell it as a marketing trend. When listening to free form, (gulp, no marketing advice taken), listener-supported, WFMU you never know if the next song is going to be recycled, reconstituted, mashed up, or environmentally sound...Pledge to this uncategorizable lifestyle, my dear free formers, and think of how much vinyl we are keeping out of the landfill with your heavily recycled dollars. 

Truly classic turntablism

For everyone who thinks club DJs are just late 20th century, check out this turn of the century dual turntable.

Via the always fun Vintage Ads.

Great Moments in WFMU History #6

Back to Old Habits (by Lou D’Antonio, Amy Foerster, and Liz Berg)

Ten months after freeform fighters Vin Scelsa and Lou D’Antonio signed off, disillusioned with Upsala’s looming influence over the station, WFMU returns to the air. The resurrected WFMU was briefly led by Station Manager Alan Fritch, whose goal was to run the station "in a professional manner.” Fritch was quickly undermined by a band of self-proclaimed "long-hairs" who insisted upon experimenting with tape loops, political speeches, and six-day marathon readings of The Lord of the Rings. October, 1970.

Illustration by Megan Murphy

Johnny Greenwood and the Oscars

It is a sure bet that Paul Thomas Anderson's excellent film There Will Be Blood will grab a few Oscars tonight, but unfortunately it won't get one for Best Original Score. The reason is an arcane and stupid Academy Awards rule excluding "scores diluted by the use of tracked themes or other pre-existing music".

The score was written by Radiohead guitarist Johnny Greenwood, combining pieces by Arvo Pärt, Johannes Brahms, and others, with a good chunk (supposedly about 35 minutes) of music written by himself specifically for this film. He also used a few pieces of his BBC-commissioned 2006 composition Popcorn Superhet Receiver (RealAudio streaming link). Apparently this was too much "diluting" for the Academy, and it really is a shame that this keeps the best 2007 film score out of the awards.

If you think this is a 21st century problem, you might be surprised that this rule has already robbed another great composer from receiving an Oscar, 35 years ago. Nino Rota's score for the original 1972 Godfather movie was ruled ineligible for recycling a theme from his soundtrack for the 1958 film Fortunella. However, Rota used the same theme again in 1974's Godfather II, and this film finally got him his deserved award. It doesn't make any sense, but it really happened that way. I am waiting for There Will Be Blood II...

You can listen to a track from Johnny Greenwood's score on his MySpace page, and you should also check out an excerpt from Bodysong (YouTube link), a 2003 film by Simon Pummell which was scored by Greenwood.

Science Geeks are the coolest!

Photobasement posted a slew of Science Fair photos last week, and it got me slipping down the k-hole of my past, thinking about those days as a budding science nerd. And so, after much googling and image searching, I pulled together even more photos. Some are funny, and some are just darn cute!

And so, a slew of Science Fair photos (including some of my faves from the Photobasement post) after the jump!

Leave It To Me: Teo Macero on Working with Miles Davis

I'm sure it's no news by now that Teo Macero, Columbia Records producer and the craftsman of Miles's electric period passed away last week at the age of 82.  Here's a short interview, worth watching for his imitation of Miles's speaking voice alone.

Chinchillas are Good Business

A lil while back I posted this episode of a forgotten TV show called Divorce Hearing and simply could not decide whether it was the absolute best or absolute worst piece of television I had ever seen. Most viewers decided it was one of the best. Well, it's time to cast those ballots again with this relic of early TV: The Hoot Gibson Show. It "stars" an aging B-movie western figure of the same name. The real meat of this program lies in its sponsor. At the 6:50 mark the sponsor appears in the flesh, a Chinchilla salesman who could not deliver a line of script to save his life. Needs to be seen to be believed.

Opry Almanac

Ralph Emery is the Dick Clark of country music.  His first television show was Opry Almanac, which aired at 6:00 in the morning on WSM-TV in Nashville.  On this particular broadcast in 1966, Ralph's guests were Roger Miller, Thumbs Carlisle, Jerry Allison and Charlie Louvin.  Legend has it that they had been up all night partying before the show...and it shows.  TV was much better back then.  Here's an excerpt.

 

This Week On Foxton Realtors®: Window Treatments

Foxtons Realtors® list over 10,000 homes for sale each year across New Jersey and New York. These are but a few.... Previously on This Week On Foxton Realtors®

Chris T.'s Oscar Picks 2008

I'm stranded in Hollywood due to the winter storm on the East Coast, so I thought I'd take advantage of my proximity to the Kodak Theater, where the 2008 Oscars will be awarded Sunday night, and see if I can go five for five in the top categories, as I did last year:

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS: The true contenders are Ruby Dee in American Gangster and Cate Blanchett in I'm Not There. I was leaning toward Blanchett but she won a few years ago for The Aviator. Ruby Dee has never won an Oscar and that will be rectified this year.

BEST ACTRESS: The race is between Marion Cotillard, La Vie En Rose, and Julie Christie, Away From Her. They're both earning raves but Miss Cotillard gets my nod because my friend Jim says she was amazing.

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR: This one is a lock: Javier Bardem in No Country For Old Men.

BEST ACTOR: Another lock: Daniel Day-Lewis, There Will Be Blood.

BEST PICTURE: Some folks hated the ending - not me: No Country For Old Men.

No Country For Old Star Children

Oh shit, is it that time already?!?  Well, what do you know - it's Oscar Weekend.  There's been a lot of heavy talk concerning the Coen Bros' beautiful "No Country For Old Men", and its supposed return to the despairing nihilism and hopelessness of "Blood Simple", among other things.  So was it really just a few months ago when the chatter surrounding the film's release centered primarily on The Hair?  It was, and I'm bringing it back, if for no other reason than I have discovered the direct ancestral source of The Hair.

That's right, I'm saying Javier Bardem's look was inspired by the teenage Paul Stanley.  Let's hope the inspiration doesn't extend to some acceptance-speech shenanigans.  I pity the schmuck who'd shine a laser on Starchild Chigurh!  (link) Oh, or what if Javier shows the same gratitude Paul showed to the fans who didn't buy his paintings at the "Wentworth Gallery" (at a shopping mall in Hackensack)?  (link)

Great Moments in WFMU History #5

WFMU Off the Air (by Lou D'Antonio and Liz Berg)

Fearing an Upsala College takeover and feeling general disgust with the demise of the counterculture, WFMU staffers shut down the station. DJ Lou D’Antonio reads a farewell speech prepared by Vin Scelsa, and the two sign off by playing “Wooden Ships” by Crosby, Stills, and Nash (real audio). Upsala keeps the station dark for ten months. August 26, 1969.

Illustration by Wayno

The Fantastic Horror of Mia Makila

Through collage and painting, Swedish artist Mia Makila creates hellish Bosch inspired worlds brimming with grotesque and hilarious characters.

RIP Pere Ubu's Jim Jones

Jones was guitarist of Pere Ubu from 1987-2002 and passed away in Cleveland Monday night after a long illness. Besides Ubu, Jim's involvement stretched into bands like the Mirrors, Styrenes, Easter Monkeys, Home and Garden, and Foreign Bodies. He was 57.

Meow Mix

Cats is rippin' it up on tha ones and twos...real cats.  These MC's (M'Duffy Catz) are the number one stunnas.  Of mice, that is.  Wreckin' and checkin', spinnin' and grinnin', thumpin' and bumpin', these is some baaaaaad felines, ya heard?  Na?  Well, they did; you done just interrupted their privacy, DAAS.