tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-41492982012-02-11T23:49:49.908-08:00Keir DuBois carelessly adds to the festering stew of crap that's steadily consuming what remains of our civilization.Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.comBlogger3461100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-23849331443395364322012-02-11T21:10:00.001-08:002012-02-11T22:39:19.504-08:00

Boring scenery shot #1: Strands Beach, facing north/Monarch Bay. I've never been that interested in writing ballads. Most of my own songs are uptempo, faster pieces, and when I do write ballad lyrics it's usually because 1) I wrote a slow tune (which is extremely rare), 2) one of my faster songs has been revised ground-up, by the full band, as a ballad (which has happened at least twice), or 3)

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-62203928722675133772012-02-03T21:53:00.001-08:002012-02-03T22:19:46.858-08:00

Cover artwork for my "novel," The Weapon of Young Gods."Writing is the most hateful kind of work. I suspect it's a bit like fucking, which is only fun for amateurs. Old whores don't do much giggling." —Hunter S. ThompsonWhappo! How's that for some Friday Night Freakiness? Well...sort of. It's more a reaction to a lousy week that I will happily wish goodbye and good riddance. However, that HST

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-7952974785023981072012-01-27T17:15:00.000-08:002012-02-03T22:20:18.704-08:00

The I-5 freeway near Santa Ana. This is what I'm doing while you're reading this.Okay, so today in "30 Songs" we have a real treat—or at least I think so, and you all will just have to deal with me. This week's song is called "Tempting Fate" and I love it. It's one of my favorite songs that I've written and I think it's one of the best, too—not least because of a stone cold killer opening lyrical

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-32269266980907040802012-01-20T21:35:00.000-08:002012-01-20T22:15:22.707-08:00

100% authentic Naranjastani Radblaster, unearthed in Anaheim, 2011.Yes, you may be cringing now, but that's not just a painfully stupid rhyme, folks—it's the magic formula for "how to name your band." Of course, the catalyst of choice could be any reality-altering controlled substance, but here at the roving My Band Rocks HQ, we have usually chosen alcohol. Why start off the latest "30 Songs"

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-19613330682558596292012-01-13T23:47:00.000-08:002012-01-14T14:53:47.409-08:00

Honey White rehearsing at Table Salt, Oct. 2002.I like to think that my dreams of rock & roll stardom died quickly and painlessly, but they didn't. Someone's always too happy to tell you why you won't make it, especially if that means they think they're putting you in your place. I'm not too hung up on that stuff anymore—believe it or not, I've actually learned to take criticism less personally,

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-73401497618966851272012-01-08T11:19:00.000-08:002012-01-08T11:41:42.485-08:00

Guest backing vocalists on the faux Mojo theme song.For the final Mojo Wire post of the "30 Songs" series, we have a song that's almost the perfect synthesis of the entire Mojo Wire ethos and outlook on life: "Wishing Well Blues." It's an eight-bar blues arrangement, sun-kissed by reverby surf guitar; a simple, unpretentious lyric supported by a novelty-song feel and silly vocal overdubs. In

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-63827216671873273292012-01-01T23:54:00.000-08:002012-01-01T23:58:02.957-08:00

The den of iniquity: KJUC/KCSB and the UCSB Daily Nexus.Well, what title would you have written if you'd been watching consecutive Hobbit movies all week, instead of typing up a holiday-shortened, quickie "30 Songs" post about a song that doesn't inspire great and profound writing? Yeah, that's right—this week's song is like last week's, except even less so. It's called "Can't Keep Warm" and it's

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-57305312263360274462011-12-25T15:12:00.000-08:002011-12-25T15:12:14.783-08:00

The Clap at the Aliso Ice Palace, December 1996: Kevin, Keir, Adam, and Bryn. After almost 15 years, we re-formed in 2010 as Radblaster. Way back in the last century (circa May/June 1996), my first band was called The Clap. We became the Mojo Wire a bit later. I bought my first bass guitar a few months earlier, and my brother and two of his friends asked me to be their bass player when I got

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-86420316190760627702011-12-18T12:28:00.000-08:002011-12-18T12:49:29.301-08:00

"Did I listen to pop music because I was miserable? Or was I miserable because I listened to pop music?"—Rob Gordon in High Fidelity. Heart cake by Lilly Vanilli.The classic contradiction at the heart of 95-99% of all pop songs is that they make horrible emotions sound beautiful. Heartbreak, loss, revenge, guilt, anger—all those lizard-brain synaptic spasms of feeling are easier to swallow with a

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-86899427864011294772011-12-10T20:31:00.000-08:002011-12-10T20:46:44.878-08:00

I get caught up in all kinds of goofy graphic design dead-ends. Might as well go public with 'em. This project is something I thought of based on last week's post about my favorite albums of 2011.I don't think I've ever experienced a piece of music fit so perfectly with a location. I imagine this album would fit with umpteen million roads around the country, but this is what it makes me think of:

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-92144286456382738492011-12-09T23:46:00.001-08:002011-12-10T00:05:15.351-08:00

Joe Zulli and his legendary leonine second in command.Okay, children—this one's special for a lot of reasons, so I'm not gonna screw around with any fancy "30 Songs" introductions. "You're On Your Own" is, somewhat inexplicably, the only Mojo Wire song with music written by the fiendishly clever guitarist known as Joseph Sante Zulli of Zullitown, USA. I can't rightly remember why this is so—but

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-68148872446013157952011-12-05T19:52:00.000-08:002011-12-05T21:16:32.254-08:00

Quickie little post with a drop in the flood of year-end "best-of" lists that will soon be deluging all of us. I don't do "best-of" lists anymore—they're silly and divisive—so I'll just list my favorite albums that were released this year. Most of these may not end up on every "Best of 2011" list but they're my favorites. The covers are shown above in the order below:1. Slave Ambient by the War

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-72499378450918658452011-12-02T23:31:00.000-08:002011-12-03T00:09:10.001-08:00

The Trojan War did not end well for Cassandra the prophet.I've been waiting for weeks to write an LSD-fried cuckoopants title like that—and the best part is, in this case, that it's all true. Well, it's true for the length of this week's "30 Songs" entry: "How Far Away," a staple of Mojo Wire and Honey White recordings and live sets, and one of the most fun songs to play in my entire canon. It's

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-47415579238639034502011-11-29T20:07:00.001-08:002011-11-29T20:14:29.676-08:00

Okay, here's Track 11 of 12 in my goofy series from the big shebang and money-pit, U2's re-released Achtung Baby album. It's a great song, with a gut-slashing blister of a chorus (see the post title above). It's good advice:I guess we can make this a real post with a quickie bullet-review of U2's "Achtung Baby" super-deluxe 20th anniversary edition:• The reissued Achtung Baby album is not

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-41054058425217235592011-11-27T12:56:00.000-08:002011-11-27T13:36:04.507-08:00

Yes, it's a stupid pun. No, I don't care.Denial is a powerful emotion, and I'd guess that it fuels about 80-90% of pop song lyrics out there. So many lyrics seem to be about denying reality in favor of something better, or something (mis)remembered, or something idealized, or any number of unrealistic expectations or assumptions. People have this marvelous ability to totally disbelieve something

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-72697309340625382092011-11-20T14:34:00.001-08:002011-11-20T14:40:19.634-08:00

Adam vs. Keir, May '98: When Cheap Hair Dye Attacks!This week's "30 Songs" column is a bit late—and a bit shorter than usual—because on Friday, I was truly fried, and in no fit state to write about it. Same with yesterday, actually—but now's as good a time as any for Round Two of "These Lyrics Need a Rewrite, Dude." Today's victim is "Wound Down," which like "Kid Icarus," is an otherwise great

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-71277760850747164822011-11-11T23:19:00.001-08:002011-11-11T23:42:55.920-08:00

No, not that Kid Icarus…but his attitude is fitting.Fair warning: the "30 Songs" series might be a dodgy, uneven proposition for the next several weeks. I've written about many of my very best lyrics recently, but now we're gonna go way back—to 1997 and some of my decidedly more mediocre stuff. It's a sad story, artistically and collaboratively, because what happened was that I unconsciously

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-53454801409899472882011-11-05T12:02:00.000-07:002011-11-05T12:05:02.417-07:00

Gives a whole new meaning to the phrase "like a boss," doesn't it?One of the most important artistic lessons I've learned is that, for creative people, there's a big difference between a "favorite" work and a "best" work. Favorites are sentimental, subjective, and transitory. Bests are obvious, objective, and permanent. Any creative person will tell you that there's a big difference between the

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-14305013750229486722011-10-30T11:29:00.001-07:002011-10-30T11:45:43.503-07:00

Trouble in Paradise, Part MCLXVIII.For some reason, one of the most difficult things for me to do as a lyricist is throw the blueprint away. I can do it in almost every other creative project—abandoning something that's not working is not only practical, it's necessary—but like other overwrought, self-absorbed people, I've had all kinds of hangups related to letting things go over the years.

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-72490922386099850292011-10-23T15:28:00.000-07:002011-10-23T15:34:57.108-07:00

Brian and Bill in the Seville St. rehearsal room, Isla Vista 12/4/03.This week's "30 Songs" post is shortened a bit—I was in Orange County rockin' out with Radblaster—and for some reason it's a bit difficult to get my head back into "then" mode instead of "now" mode, but let's try anyway, shall we? Okay, carrying on from "Sweet Oblivion" last week, but on a slightly more fatalistic note, is its

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-45684542626951290752011-10-14T23:51:00.000-07:002011-10-15T00:09:31.768-07:00

Honey White onstage at the Wildcat, Santa Barbara 4/26/04Honey White's "Sweet Oblivion" is a simple idea masquerading as an epic song. It was one of several transformative pieces for us back in 2003/2004, when we finally and truly gelled as a band. We also took everything that Honey White had been and blew it up, sonically, to elephantine proportions. Part of this was Brian stepping up to play

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-57771702503696725072011-10-09T00:21:00.001-07:002011-10-09T00:36:36.171-07:00

The tiny fishing village of Isla Vista, California. Eroding coastline not shown to scale.It's tough to give up a song as a bad job, especially if you've spent a lot of time on it, but sometimes you have to do exactly that. If so, you better do it before the thing actually gets recorded and released—and even then it still might end up like this week's "30 Songs" entry, the sorry saga of a

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-15081778781143539342011-10-04T22:06:00.000-07:002011-10-04T22:19:09.711-07:00

Well, here we are ten months down the greasy pole of 2011, looking into a rotten Fall. High time for some comfort food, right? Track 10 in my deathly nostalgic 20 years of "Achtung Baby" series is "Ultraviolet," a show-stopper from both ZooTV (1992/3)… …and U2/360 (2009-11)… I wrote some other stuff about it here…"Ultraviolet (Light My Way)" - I didn't think so highly of this one until I got why

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-12786133734434697272011-09-30T22:00:00.000-07:002011-10-15T09:13:15.483-07:00

When the keg cups start getting freaky, then you're cut off, son.Many songwriters find that their best stuff doesn't necessarily start out that way. If something's good to begin with, though, it usually gets even better when played live. Songs that grow up on stage and on tour tend to live longer and stay interesting. These might not necessarily be the big hit singles or the songs everyone knows

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-85845565143813719432011-09-26T12:27:00.000-07:002011-09-26T12:48:58.083-07:00

Del Playa Shadow Puppetry, Part MCXXVIII.Most of my song lyrics have arrived in groups. There was a time, about 10-12 years ago, when I'd be churning out several lyrics at a rate of about one every 2-3 months. That was relatively quick, considering that now it's about the same number every few years, but the pattern's stayed the same: within these groups there's usually one lyric that acts as the

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-84729940296866072722011-09-18T13:20:00.000-07:002011-09-19T22:40:49.407-07:00

I am the God your God. Pull my handle and watch me spin, baby!Sometimes a song lyric is going to be just average—not terrible, but not great—and there's nothing you can really do about it. No transcendent wisdom, no killer metaphor, no clever insights—so you just put your head down and grind through the thing hoping that the tune and performance will save it. Sometimes you get lucky and the band

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-9734655901946099402011-09-10T15:08:00.001-07:002011-09-10T15:21:38.656-07:00

Ancient Roman men doing their "Isla Vista Meat-Head" impressions.Combatting brutality with art is an extremely fine line for a creative person to walk. Too often, it seems like anything one does will fail to strike the right balance—and the situation inevitably becomes even worse. Writer Bill Flanagan once observed this; he theorized that from "The Rape of the Sabine Women" on, any work of art

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-48405783543149945142011-09-04T00:19:00.000-07:002011-09-04T01:02:56.393-07:00

Isla Vista on Halloween. Or maybe just on a Thursday. No self-respecting arbiter of cool ever wants to admit when they write a "political" song lyric, but thankfully I have little self-respect or cool anymore, and I only arbitrarily admit the painfully obvious at the very last moment, when all other options are exhausted. That's basically the plan for this week's "30 Songs" entry, "Blacking Out

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-89179101277056617952011-09-01T22:59:00.000-07:002011-09-01T23:07:22.681-07:00

Today was a good day, so have a biscuit, Potter: "Tryin; to Throw Your Arms Around the World," the fluffy Obla-di Obla-da track from "Achtung Baby," here from a 1992 Zoo TV special (complete with Bill Clinton Radio and video confessionals): Notice the same bass line throughout, not even changing keys. Lucky bastard, that Clayton. That has to be a great gig—chilling out playing the same 5 or 6

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-36510233333732224192011-08-28T20:56:00.000-07:002011-08-28T21:16:02.245-07:00

Em on the Del Playa swing, summer 1999. Some song lyrics never really get finished. They evolve over time, mostly in live performance as public works-in-progress. I can't think of a singer/songwriter/musician who hasn't eventually changed something in a lyric (though there's undoubtedly many), and I think that's because the song has to stay alive and relevant if it's going to get played by the

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-54136394825479571442011-08-25T20:09:00.000-07:002011-08-25T20:12:01.922-07:00

So...as a book, "The Rum Diary" was not as crazy as "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas," but it looks like they're trying to make it that way for the film. Plus Depp is too old to play the lead (though I'm told 30 was "old" in 1959). Also looks like they're combining characters on top of aging them a bit. On the other hand, it's Depp playing a Thompson alter ego again, and he knows how to deliver

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-56160705913297115732011-08-21T22:59:00.000-07:002011-08-22T00:29:59.551-07:00

Just kids, summer 1999. "The Shivering Sand" is special for a lot of reasons, but mainly because I have never written a song as fast as I wrote this one. The whole thing—riff, arrangement, lyric, everything—arrived in a glorious six-hour fit of inspiration one evening in August 1998. When I introduced this series three weeks ago, I mentioned that I'm not a first-thought-best-thought creative

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-1984946254518875192011-08-14T14:05:00.000-07:002011-08-14T14:54:38.032-07:00

Honey White guitarist Brian Wolff bends reality yet again, here at Nicholby's in Ventura 4/20/05. Most of my lyrics have taken a long, long time to finish. It's tough for me to pin down a piece of music with one emotion or interpretation, and it's even tougher if that piece of music isn't mine. Since I'm an infrequent composer compared to my bandmates, the latter happens way more often—and

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-45451459807331415382011-08-07T15:16:00.000-07:002011-08-07T15:45:05.398-07:00

Wasting time on the people's dime, 2002.One of the dirty little secrets of songwriting is that eventually, people run out of ideas and have to come up with creative ways of repeating themselves. This isn't unique to songwriting—all creative fields suffer from it, and I do this as a rule in web design every day—but it isn't necessarily a bad or uninspired thing. Case in point, for this second "30

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-67610290990039669412011-08-01T23:29:00.000-07:002011-08-04T07:13:07.165-07:00

Yeah yeah, another U2 post—even though I promised to hold back. Plug your nose and go for it, or else click away fast.So as I've said previously, I decided to blow off the 360° tour, after seeing a token show from the last three (PopMart, Elevation, and Vertigo). That proved to be a colossal personal mistake, but I won't dwell on that. Neither will I blather on and on about what sucked about U2

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-72477690255967968012011-07-29T21:54:00.000-07:002011-07-30T09:16:10.348-07:00

Portrait of the artist as a hypersensitive, insecure 19-year-oldFor better or worse, I'm not really a first-though-best-thought type. Most of my best stuff—writing, music, lyrics, design, whatever—is usually the result of an annoyingly protracted cerebral root canal, ideas over-thought within an inch of creative death. There is, however, a lone exception that naturally proves the rule, and it

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-74667447279778578862011-07-25T15:24:00.000-07:002012-02-11T21:49:18.373-08:00

UPDATE: Catch up with the whole sorry saga, now halfway through, using these links:01 - Fatal Flaws: In The Beginning Was The Riff 7.29.1102 - Mercy Rule: Chugging Candy-Coated Castor Oil 8.7.1103 - Dilemma by Design: Disjointed Down-Tuned Decision-Making 8.14.1104 - The Shivering Sand: Neo-Victorian Surf-Noir Love Letters 8.21.1105 - Pisces Lullabye: How to Use and Misuse Your Empathetic

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-8871538796050292222011-07-16T00:14:00.000-07:002011-07-16T19:34:45.888-07:00

So this month's gratuitous U2 post is supposed to be about "The Fly," Track 7 from "Achtung Baby," but…I just can't bring myself to get worked up about it right now—despite the fact that it's my favorite song of theirs (and one of my favorite songs, period).Studio versionNow, I have my reasons for today's particularly bitter and nasty onset of sloth, but they're all totally lame—so I'll just put

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-15496766566355779562011-06-28T20:24:00.000-07:002011-06-28T20:59:04.275-07:00

Today's victim is, sadly, rock star Polly Jean Harvey. Witness, Mojo Magazine (grayscale) vs. Blurt Magazine (color):Now, nothing against Blurt—the reason I picked up this copy was because it was packed with not only PJ, but Explosions in the Sky, Panda Bear, Drive By Truckers, and a weird sub-David Foster Wallace ripoff of an over-the-hill '80s fossil-metal cruise.But seriously, their photo

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-20818775417312926812011-06-20T19:52:00.000-07:002011-06-20T22:01:14.267-07:00

Like most of the other songs on its parent album (yes, the year-long series of shame continues), this pulpy beast of blood and guts cannot be taken nearly as serious as it seems to take itself. But by all that is great and holy, I tell you this: when I was 19 and pretty and dumb, U2's "So Cruel" was the most perfectly melodramatic tearjerking thing to deafen myself with on a muggy April night as

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-61591753424927126252011-06-05T12:53:00.000-07:002011-06-05T13:01:16.967-07:00

Quickie post for the Cracker/Camper Van Beethoven set we saw yesterday at the VC Fairgrounds. Cloudy/drizzly day (guess it's time for June gloom) didn't dampen anything permanently, but the general vibe of the closing hours at the inaugural "Indie West Fest" gave off a distinctly "is this it?" feeling. The staff people were all very pleasant though, and I hope they do it again next year. Anyway,

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-72548661545485667502011-05-29T18:55:00.000-07:002011-05-29T22:51:08.129-07:00

This month's entry in my "I Was 15 and Pretty and Dumb Once Upon a Time" series is about one of the most polarizing (in my experience) U2 songs ever. "Who's Gonna Ride Your Wild Horses" is equally revered and reviled by U2 fans, music fans, and almost everyone who seems to have heard it. Most of my female friends in high school (who shall not remain nameless) loved it. Most of my male friends in

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-35614164784587946082011-05-13T09:36:00.000-07:002011-05-13T11:28:37.092-07:00

Setlist from elviscostello.com:I Hope You're Happy NowHeart Of The CityMystery DanceUncomplicatedRadio RadioI Want You*Monkey To Man*God Give Me Strength*Watching The Detectives*And Your Bird Can SingClubland*Doll Revolution+Girl+Next Time 'Round+Out Of Time+Everyday I Write The Book*Stella Hurt*(Interlude)A Slow Drag With JosephineJimmie Standing In The RainPump It Up (in 6/8)/BustedWheels*

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-72133160545827891982011-04-30T01:00:00.000-07:002011-05-01T01:02:30.896-07:00

You know the drill:Zoo TV (Sydney, 1993):PopMart (Santiago, 1998):Elevation (Slane, 2001):Vertigo (Chicago, 2005):360 (Los Angeles, 2009):They've played this one on every tour for the past 20 years for a reason. It rocks.

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-77722250665058907052011-04-11T23:06:00.000-07:002011-04-11T23:19:02.178-07:00

Nothing worth blogging about lately, except for my new (or rather new-ish) band. Behold, we can write and play a song with only one chord:Lluvia de Jalisco by RadblasterOne day a new site will be built for that band, but today is not that day. However, my great band from last decade is not exactly slouching either—for behold: rough mixes of several songs for a new demo E.P.:Corcoran by Honey

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-36914396092537192452011-03-13T10:03:00.000-07:002011-03-13T11:02:05.559-07:00

Well, 2011 sure has been a terrible year for the old DV blog. Work, band, sloth, tsunami warnings, etc. are all valid reasons, but I think that silly things like Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, and my iPhone are contributing factors too. Enough about that, though—no one cares about how little I post—so let's talk about much less important things:Point #1: U2's "One" is a great song, mostly because it

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-90400745473314540932011-02-14T19:40:00.000-08:002011-02-14T20:19:45.104-08:00

The nose plays. Oh yes, the nose plays. You're welcome.

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-89214017903041406542011-02-07T21:59:00.000-08:002011-02-07T22:11:27.473-08:00

One of the truisms I've decided applies to my life is this: by the time I find out about something, it's usually over. That doesn't necessarily completely apply to the stuff posted below, but once again I have nothing important to say and am therefore hiding behind some videos. In this case, they're tangentially related to what I actually do—because there's plenty of fun typography in these

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-13541918513494967252011-02-04T19:48:00.000-08:002011-02-04T19:50:43.544-08:00

OK, so more silly U2 stuff because my favorite album is now 20 years old. This month's shlockbuster is track 2, "Even Better than the Real Thing." I thought I might have some personal observations about this one, but it's a bleary Friday night and I really don't have the time or patience to expand upon either my dashed megalomaniacal hopes at the terribly tasteless, Spiedel-helmed high school Air

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-30151296578364575722011-01-24T23:28:00.000-08:002011-01-24T23:40:27.237-08:00

…as spoken by myself (and others)—sort of—this past weekend:~~~~~~Texted to my boss (whom I'm representing): "Hi, Boss-Lady. I'm wandering around City Hall, drinking a Jack & Coke."My friend the programmer, who gave me the booze (in response): "You realize that you're not the first person to drink alcohol in this building, right?"Me: "I do now. Hey, is that the Chamber of Commerce CEO over there?

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-23528930723484279202011-01-18T20:58:00.000-08:002011-02-04T19:41:04.332-08:00

My favorite album turns 20 this year. I know, I know—there are many superior albums out there, of course, but for better or worse "Achtung Baby" is still my favorite. So even though we're both two decades older, I intend to kick and scream my way through 2011, month by month, pretending to be 15 and pretty and dumb with a full head of hair, able to fit in black pleather pants. Because really, why

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-22389823164782032212010-11-12T20:01:00.000-08:002010-11-29T07:04:50.213-08:00

"Harry, you know how much I love watching you pretend to work, but I've got Reagan's 100th birthday to plan, my re-election to fumble, my legacy to cripple, and professional liberals to frame for it. I'm swamped. "—President Barack H. ObamaMy ears have been ringing for over seven years now. I can pinpoint the precise moment this began—an explosively awesome gig in spring 2003 where my thunderous

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-85762512823031913672010-10-12T23:25:00.000-07:002010-12-11T21:22:54.553-08:00

Posted these a while back on Facebook (sadly, yes, they got there before they showed up here), so I figured might as well reissue recycle repackage:"Battery Acid Blues" by the Mojo Wire (Dec. 15, 1997)Our first official "album" had the same name as my weekly music column in the UCSB Daily Nexus, so I thought it was strikingly appropriate to illustrate it with a caricature by Nexite cartoonist

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-38750322417789930032010-09-01T23:07:00.000-07:002010-09-26T20:57:37.141-07:00

"Businessmen, they drink my blood, just like the kids in art school said they would."—President Barack H. ObamaPolitics is a serious business, or so I'm told—and told often—by people across the ideological spectrum. Indeed, so many have imparted this particular turd of wisdom in my direction so frequently and earnestly that I've long since ceased to give the idea any credence or respect. Sure,

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-39290451706242588742010-08-07T20:19:00.000-07:002010-08-07T20:21:19.744-07:00

(Cross-posted from the My Band Rocks blog...)...and when I say "New" I mean "after 2005," or something like that. Also, many more new Adam songs than represented here in these quick snippets of 12 new (sort of) demo songs from 2006-2010. Some are future Honey White songs, some are not. Some are so new they don't have titles yet. They are:NightfallThis is one of Bryn's that was done just after

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-44114554610458225032010-07-23T18:02:00.000-07:002010-07-23T18:06:09.703-07:00

We spent the week in Seattle, and I couldn't be bothered to use a real camera. Oh well...

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-34294434920284471332010-07-14T21:46:00.000-07:002010-07-14T22:12:38.991-07:00

As many of you know, I've been wrapping up a novel for...uh...several years now—and it's almost done. Really and truly. Anyway, I was so into it at one point that I even wrote and composed a soundtrack CD for it, mostly because I'm a raging egomaniac, but also because I'm not famous and don't know famous people and have no leverage on famous musicians and their music. I.e. music that I could

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-56144467352222126762010-07-09T21:26:00.000-07:002010-07-09T21:38:31.574-07:00

Originally published as a "Student Voices" column in the Summer 2010 Gifted Education Communicator.No one ever asked me if I wanted to be “gifted.” I didn’t know what it meant at first, and it didn’t seem like I had a choice in the matter, so it took a while to get used to the idea. At seven years old, I definitely wasn’t ready—it was sort of a surprise, and I’ve never handled strange new

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-89676048010095523412010-07-02T22:11:00.000-07:002010-07-10T16:54:50.421-07:00

I don't know where you're going / But you don't know where I've been / Baby, let me show you a world without sin—Malcolm Reynolds*Polarity has never been an issue for me. No, I'm not the kind of guy who flies off the handle at random—or at least not for about twelve years or so. Oh sure, there's the odd presidential election meltdown or sudden spasm of selfish mania—but in general I've been a

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-60779618692970019202010-06-26T19:32:00.000-07:002010-06-26T19:36:20.379-07:00

Don't let other people's hang-ups fuck with your art.—Keir DuBoisSame old deep blue green ocean view. It's almost too good to be true. Same bliss and doubt, day in day out. It's all about deluge and drought, deluge and drought and no surprise on this horizon. Same myth is strong in every song: stuck on the wrong island too long, island too long with no surprise on this horizon, no surprise on

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-34915408433332102362010-06-17T00:15:00.001-07:002010-06-17T21:38:37.945-07:00

If I'm part of a problem, but not part of the problem, then it's not really your problem.—Keir DuBoisFor many years now, I've forgotten my dreams—if I ever remember at all. Reality wants my attention more often, so I always come when she calls, and I'm getting used to the pull of routine and the comfort of my fatal flaws. Cause I never really found Boredom attractive, but she won't stop flirting

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-57744379559953679162010-05-25T20:43:00.000-07:002010-05-25T20:47:18.393-07:00

Jesus! Can't you guys recognize bullshit? Don't you think it would be a useful item to add to your intellectual toolkits to be capable of saying, when a ton of wet steaming bullshit lands on your head, "My goodness, this appears to be bullshit?"—Douglas MacArthur ShaftoeI've been having problems with deadlines lately—the space-time continuum has been extremely treacherous recently, especially

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-32460869696730078452010-05-15T09:32:00.000-07:002010-05-15T09:44:12.432-07:00

"I've always considered writing the most hateful kind of work. I suspect it's a bit like fucking—which is fun only for amateurs. Old whores don't do much giggling. Nothing is fun when you have to do it—over and over, again and again—or else you'll be evicted, and that gets old."—Hunter S. ThompsonSo...I had lots of great plans for this essay, but they all gave way to a brutal onslaught of sloth (

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-76494649262060669092010-04-26T22:55:00.000-07:002010-08-12T18:37:41.522-07:00

"I tell you, old sport—I've never met anyone as committed to a single cause as that man Weelykta. Why, I daresay he'd be a sterling example to all of us, if he manages to accomplish anything, of course."—Jay Gatsby"Gatsby's a rotten bastard, a hopeless lightweight. Terminal amateurs like him make us all look bad."—Frank Weelykta"Tequila and tabasco/Formaldehyde and gin/Hell yes we're gonna drink

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-73959491505560037902010-03-16T23:47:00.000-07:002010-03-17T07:43:45.693-07:00

"One song which would really tear the house down was 'Tutti Frutti.' The lyrics were kind of vulgar. White people, it always cracked 'em up, but black people didn't like it that much. They liked the blues."—Little Richard"If rock and roll has to be only one thing, then you might as well say it can only be Little Richard."—BonoLike many struggling rock stars, I've endured all kinds of cheap taunts

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-90459318834161911772010-03-01T19:43:00.000-08:002010-03-01T22:24:27.342-08:00

Well, the local economy may still be in the dumper, relatively speaking, but that hasn't stopped me from burning enough midnight oil to tap out Kuwait. Ye olde office in midtown V-town has quite a few big new websites ready in the pipeline, and the first out the gate is this one:Venture Strategies Innovations' new site is a CSS/HTML project powered by a database/CMS with some built-in Ajax and

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-8133091816247002952010-02-14T00:58:00.000-08:002010-02-14T10:52:04.831-08:00

There are no more barriers to cross. All I have in common with the uncontrollable and the insane, the vicious and the evil, all the mayhem I have caused and my utter indifference toward it, I have now surpassed. My pain is constant and sharp and I do not hope for a better world for anyone; in fact, I want my pain to be inflicted on others. I want no one to escape, but even after admitting this

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-49952981409507262762010-02-05T01:21:00.000-08:002010-02-05T19:37:05.985-08:00

Envy is the religion of the mediocre. It comforts them, it soothes their worries, and finally it rots their souls, allowing them to justify their meanness and their greed until they believe these to be virtues. Such people are convinced that the doors of heaven will be opened only to poor wretches like themselves who go through life without leaving any trace but their threadbare attempts to

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-90869839302270455952010-01-27T00:05:00.000-08:002010-01-27T07:47:07.637-08:00

He wondered again at the bewildering gullibility of people. How baffling it was that even the most cunning and clever people would frequently see only what they wanted to see, and would rarely look beyond the thinnest of facades. Or they would ignore reality, dismissing it as the facade. And then, when their whole world fell to pieces and they were on their knees slitting their bellies or cutting

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-69331605731240892722009-12-28T15:16:00.000-08:002009-12-30T01:51:29.103-08:00

Just cleaning up some loose ends before the 2000s slip into the black hole of history. This is a sequel to my previous post about personal creative high points from a mad decade. Without further ado, then:2005: I play two memorable gigs with Honey White: Ventura and Hollywood.This was a banner year for HW: the album we recorded in San Francisco was finally released in April, accompanied by a

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-65414381631101089242009-12-17T21:47:00.000-08:002009-12-17T21:56:58.655-08:00

In case you hadn't seen it yet, Time called the 2000s "the decade from hell." I guess the '30s and '40s don't count anymore, but whatever. Anyway, on a personal scale, that doesn't apply to me at all—between the ages of 23 and 33, I got married, bought a house, scored a nice creative career, wrote lots of crazy things, made plenty of loud rock noise, and generally amused myself while the rest of

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-5637356533040012432009-12-06T19:37:00.000-08:002009-12-06T19:40:07.380-08:00

Those damnable, pesky public employee unions! If it weren't for them and their cushy, decadent benefits packages, California's sterling government would surely be nowhere near the level of crushing idiocy that currently pervades the hallowed halls of Sacramento. And now, now those ungrateful teachers and their annoying elitist union have the temerity to continue to take no shit from a district

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-40509535769477366022009-11-27T16:08:00.000-08:002009-12-17T21:08:53.266-08:00

It's that time again, folks: we're all about to be inundated with not only year-ending, but decade-ending "best-of" and "coming soon" lists, so I thought I'd do as the Romans do and pile on like gangbusters. Since I got the impetus from David Garland's marketing predictions on Rise Underground, I'll do the professional thing and pretend to be knowledgeable about these things too. See, unlike

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-80126779205226953262009-11-21T14:01:00.000-08:002009-11-21T14:48:46.622-08:00

I am not a good person. I've known this for a long time now, but for some reason people insist on disbelieving me. It's true, though—I'm a bad man, and I work in an evil business, full of bitchy little plastic people with humorless agendas and fearful, envious hearts. It absolutely sucks, and yet conversely I feel right at home being a judgmental jerk among my peers and colleagues. Admitting that

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-41860999632396049112009-11-08T02:00:00.000-08:002009-11-21T14:03:32.512-08:00

Ye gods, the damn ungrateful brats just never stop screaming, do they? You work all day to bring home the bacon and they just turn up their noses at it. The very idea of it all, indeed! Why can't they just eat their sausages like good little children, huh? Why won't they just swallow, grin and bear it, and beg for more? Don't they understand how hard Dad busted his own ass all day to pay for this

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-36351379068101907442009-11-02T06:26:00.000-08:002009-11-02T06:35:28.925-08:00

AKA "It's That Glorious Time of Year Again, Part III." Getting up at 6 a.m. to eat birthday cake is the only reason to get up this early, but since I have now entered my Jesus Year (for the Christians out there) or my Alexander Year (for the rest of you), I've decided that the coming 12 months between #33 and #34 shall be Momentous Indeed. Let's just say that since I don't really do New Year's

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-53194037203115012242009-10-31T18:16:00.000-07:002009-11-01T10:33:32.216-08:00

Nothing complicated for this one; since it's Halloween, I thought I'd cough up one of my reheated metaphorical theories about monsters and horror and stuff. I actually hate horror movies and monster stories, but I appreciate the symbolism that many of them have. Since I've studied too much Dante and Milton, my own tendency is to attach all kinds of western Judeo-Christian stuff to monster

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-65020763009106649972009-10-26T18:27:00.000-07:002009-10-26T18:43:33.481-07:00

The Dubious birthday week continues, today with a nod to my sister Lis. As you can see from the photo, Lis has clearly always enjoyed spending time with her big brothers, which is surely why she now lives 500 miles away from both of us. ;-) Happy birthday Lil!

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-64145915537542024112009-10-25T14:58:00.000-07:002009-10-25T15:03:21.803-07:00

Yup, it's yet another Birthday Week for the DuBois kids, and we are kicking it off in style. Today it's Bryn's turn. Everyone wish him the best, because for eight high and mighty days, his age is only one number below mine. Happy birthday bro.

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-40724384898313656352009-10-21T07:36:00.000-07:002009-10-21T07:47:39.340-07:00

Yeah Bobby, cause there's a brand-new coat of paint going on over at ye olde My Band Rocks Dot Com. Mira:The Honey White version of the site has actually looked like this for most of 2009, but I figured it was high time to re-vamp the rest of the bands' pages over there and effectively bring them into the year 2001 with some basic, gimpy CSS. Right now they look a little bare-bones, for sure—but

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-67898743080264613872009-09-25T22:03:00.000-07:002009-09-26T21:54:22.616-07:00

Nothing special for this one; just felt like posting other people's photos from the shows I saw this summer—Neko Case (Greek L.A., 6/12), Wilco (Greek Berkeley, 6/27), Jenny Lewis (Hollywood Bowl, 7/12), Elbow (Wiltern L.A., 7/22), and Built to Spill (Velvet Jones S.B., 8/22). Em went to the first four with me, Mom and Bill came to Wilco with us, and Bryn and I endured sloppy drunks for Built to

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-74100268813641374922009-09-13T22:25:00.001-07:002009-11-21T14:04:29.565-08:00

Some people have no idea how goddamn fragile the universe is, you know? How temporary and tenuous and genuinely frightening it is. How all things are supposed to have a purpose and a reason and a proper place and time to exist. It's an awful shame, and apparently a staggeringly difficult concept to understand in crunch time, but it's true. No, seriously—anything worth doing is worth doing right.

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-67668205900963854302009-09-07T18:07:00.000-07:002009-09-08T07:28:20.484-07:00

The ongoing cycle of death and rebirth may be one of life's only truths, but that doesn't make it any more fun to write about. See, usually Truth can be a shockingly powerful weapon—even a deadly one, in the hands of the righteous and insane—albeit one so final that it obliterates all the pissy little details that writers love to obsess over, and sucking the truth out of anything usually demands

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-5028850961205677562009-09-06T22:31:00.001-07:002009-09-06T22:54:21.517-07:00

Okay, just some harmless, non-partisan stuff for the remainder of this gloriously socialistic holiday weekend. As a politics junkie with a particular interest in American presidential politics, these photos have always been interesting to me: the "Five Presidents" shots from (I think) 1991 and 2008. The first one I saw constantly, over the course of my professional career, and the second one was

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-6506895412524520882009-09-05T23:54:00.000-07:002009-10-10T22:27:02.022-07:00

"No one should die because they cannot afford health care, and no one should go broke because they get sick. If you agree, please post this as your status for the rest of the day."Well…shucks, that'll show 'em. Awesome viral activism, gang. Maybe somewhere, in another parallel Pepperland, Max Baucus and Kent Conrad immediately updated their Facebook status in sweet, serene solidarity. I can see

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-29823068291084923062009-08-20T22:10:00.001-07:002009-08-20T22:10:59.253-07:00

Because everyone is a fucking pro, and they all have answers for questions, you know?—Elliott SmithI used to hate the sound of screaming children. I mean really abhor it—the whining, the melodrama, the horrendous sense of entitled malediction—so much so that the slightest hint of temper bursting forth from an exploding id would make my soul pucker with vitriol. These days however, I'm finding

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-46470438313882803422009-07-27T23:42:00.001-07:002009-08-01T00:22:11.666-07:00

I know you like your pop stars to be exciting, but I'm afraid I simply can't be bothered right now. I've been on sabbatical, you see—I'm not doing anything remotely interesting at the moment, so I don't want anyone getting the wrong ideas—but it seemed as if everyone was getting on well enough without me. False prophets choked the life from already-poisonous atmospheres, vile succubi debased

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-92034236519297678002009-07-24T00:16:00.000-07:002009-10-13T07:38:51.255-07:00

Day 3: It was only eight in the morning, but the unnaturally stifling heat was beginning to ratchet up again as I walked through the Emerald City to the second day of Web Design World. Emily had stayed behind, dozing comfortably in our air-conditioned hotel room while I prepared for another helping of snarky lectures and greasy sales pitches. The catered breakfast was functional—bagels and

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-25964877855165504692009-07-23T07:14:00.000-07:002009-10-13T07:38:51.255-07:00

Day 1: The natives tried to warn me about Seattle when I was still in California. "It's cold and rainy, even in July," said Captain Clemente, as we lounged on the hot sand at his reunion party in Laguna Beach. "The sun doesn't set until, like, 9:45 or so, and the city's surrounded by deadly volcanos. It's another planet for sure, dude." My wife and I were due to fly from Burbank to SeaTac in

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-3581908509937663532009-07-03T17:45:00.000-07:002009-07-03T17:50:03.637-07:00

Well, it's that time again—but at least it's the last time. That's right, ye olde Shameless Revisionism series will be bowing out just as summer truly heats up, but maybe we'll go out with a bang here. So, like I said last week, I'm gonna try to slice and dice the "Weapon of Young Gods" novel into tasty little bits, despite the fact that it's a clumsy first draft and I really should be editing

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-71331336351877409932009-07-02T18:43:00.000-07:002009-07-02T22:39:50.095-07:00

Like wow man, and stuff, totally. My favorite band of rich Irish dorks pulls some old tunes out of their arses for their new tour (via U2log). Do I have tickets? Well, no, no I don't, but there are no tears over that because I'm a big boy now. Seriously, I'm not into seeing stadium shows anymore, even for these guys.Anyway, they did this for the last tour, of course--playing ancient obscure tunes

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-77993931819437501672009-07-01T22:22:00.000-07:002009-07-03T13:14:19.889-07:00

Finally got a chance to drive up to Mom and Bill's new hood last weekend in Half Moon Bay. The new home isn't ready yet so we crammed into the rented beach house with them and the crazy dogs. First on the agenda was an all-day jaunt up to Berkeley to see Wilco (who were pretty damn good this time around). It was the 6th time Em and I have seen them and this show was easily in the top 2. (UPDATE:

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-19402409546860918892009-06-25T19:18:00.000-07:002009-06-26T23:49:46.992-07:00

Long weekend (!) equals new SR, so as promised, this week's Shameless Revisionism is the second of two that try to get a handle on my 2009 quasi-political rants in the Soapblox universe. It's an appropriately Dubious Venture, of course—compiling such recent material is by nature a stupid idea, because it hasn't had time to ferment and congeal and acquire "meaning" yet. However, I think we can

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-20046247314423974932009-06-22T18:15:00.000-07:002009-06-22T22:39:27.182-07:00

Big fancy title for a small post noting completion of the 18th Gifted. Ed journal (12th re-designed, and 13th under my watch) for CAG. Two more to go this year. I've blogged this before, last summer—so this is kind of a repeat, but I just like to see all the covers in front of me, all together. Click on the image to see them all bigger.It's the same thing I used to do for all the Mojo Wire and

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-29784981047013979292009-06-21T00:02:00.000-07:002009-06-21T00:05:06.579-07:00

I don't know if Howlin' Wolf has ever been translated into Farsi, but if Islamic Republic government snipers are now killing beautiful women on live TV, something's sure gone up the Supreme Leader's ass sideways. Call me a sucker, call me a romantic, call me a suburban armchair activist—but I have been extremely moved by the fact that the women of Iran seem to be in the vanguard of the

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-59251620075254601252009-06-20T00:38:00.001-07:002009-06-20T00:59:17.918-07:00

Another weekend, another edition of Shameless Revisionism—this time the first of two posts re-capping a slew of more quasi-political rants from the Soapblox-powered mega-blogs like Daily Kos and its ilk. I've griped before about the dubious usefulness of the political blogosphere, but the increasing infantilism of these particular forums in the wake of Obama's election is becoming a major turnoff

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-50765964713323351402009-06-18T00:11:00.000-07:002009-11-30T22:18:03.362-08:00

For someone who can blather on and on about the unsung virtues of transformative change, I don't seem to take it too well when the tables are turned. I mean, I've long since accepted plenty of undercooked truisms like "contradiction is balance" and "hypocrisy is relative," and I'm often able to place seemingly bizarre paradigm shifts into meaningful context instead of going completely berserk

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-2986237933046894572009-06-14T00:39:00.000-07:002009-06-14T00:41:32.095-07:00

This week's Shameless Revisionism edition is dedicated to my semi-ill-fated attempts to begin writing about music again in 2008-09, from a supposedly "mature" and non-geeky perspective. That went right out the window immediately with the column's name, of course, but after a while it became much more fun to get back into the same old non-sensical babbling that so often consumed my other "official

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-44150499041855412662009-06-07T00:35:00.000-07:002009-06-07T11:55:27.342-07:00

For a bona fide rock star, I'm a man of surprisingly simple tastes. I like electricity. And amplification. I like wielding both of those things with fearsome power and sublime glory, and I'm not ashamed to admit that. I love shaking up the citizens with a serious lightning bolt every once in a while, just to see them flinch. It's one of my absolute favorite things to do. I mean, it's one thing

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4149298.post-18752574511252812872009-06-06T01:37:00.000-07:002009-06-06T01:40:02.350-07:00

So like I said about a month ago, I have these periodic compulsions to anthologize myself and the twisted, derivative things I write. I call it "Shameless Revisionism" because that's what all compilations are, and also because about this time last summer I re-jiggered this blog to suit these vain impulses, resulting in this series of posts. There are all kinds of categories—fiction, music,

Keirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04724669451849355105noreply@blogger.com0