Tuesday, 30 October 2007

Saturday, 27 October 2007

Racism's Dead...Thank God for Georgia

While racism's genius has been its ability to weave itself intricately and unnoticed into the fabric of the American character, it sometimes erupts from one of the many buboes on the pocked surface of our societal skin. In a horrible yet necessary way it overtly reminds us of all that is latent within each one of our bodies. If only the disgusting images from the Auburn frat-boys dressed in black-face to Jena could bring about a true examination of our history instead of being suffocated under the oppressive pillow of our misplaced morality. Though digging for illusory truth might destroy the insidiously supposititious ground that saves us all from gravity, the purgatory of the postmodern might be preferable to the arrogance of identity. At least all could recognize that we stand unwittingly on burial sites.

Sunday, 14 October 2007


A year ago I was consumed by humidity, languishing in artistic torpitude as sluggish as any mid-summer Atlanta afternoon. It was a combination of a procession of dreams deferred and, to butcher Hannah Arendt's phrase, the evil of banality. A year later I am reveling in inspiration, an inspiration that comes at the dawn of autumn where I can see every word spoken in the cold induced outline of my warm breath. I have never so desired to devour life and I want to thank those who have abetted my hunger.

Shanna Sang (I could never express in words my debt to you)
John Gullick (A lovely man full of grace and humility)
Frankie Fisher (Although you attempt a cynical character your love of life is infectious)
Lee Tesche (My musical partner and the most interesting, inspired person I know)
Mom (Anything I might say would be trite in comparison to your love)

In Rainbows

Radiohead have just released quite a breathtaking album. In four words, impeccable, infectious, soulful and beatific. I'm not your average obsessive Radiohead fanatic but this record makes me want to weep. Although the entire album is a revelation, I would have to recommend the following:

'Bodysnatchers' - dirty, grimy rocker

'Nude' - utterly beautiful slow-burner

'Reckoner' - the new soul, quite possibly one of the greatest songs I have ever heard

It is fruitless to attempt a full album review since Greg Kot at the Chicago Tribune has already written the perfect piece,

My Name is Albert Ayler

I wrote a review for the above referenced film a few months ago and then that tarred and feathered international man of mystery, Lee Tesche, drops this on me...